Repost from blitheblog | I Could Have a Baby but She Could Not

   

 A dear friend posted a link to this article on Facebook last night. 

When I read it, I wept.
I wept because I hurt whenever I read or hear anything about babies or pregnancy.

I wept because I am the friend that can't bear to hear the joy of another's pregnancy.

I wept because I don't want to be the infertile friend.
I wept because a woman who had never experienced infertility understood as much as one could.

And I wept because it was all so true.

"I could have a baby, but she could not"

To me, the power of this woman's post comes from the realization that infertility doesn't mean that we aren't happy for you, excited to meet your baby, or that we don't love your children.
It simply means that the joy of all those moments is soured with the constant reminder that we can't, and may never, experience any of it.

We love your children.
And we mourn ours.

“Don't be ashamed to weep; 'tis right to grieve. Tears are only water, and flowers, trees, and fruit cannot grow without water. But there must be sunlight also. A wounded heart will heal in time, and when it does, the memory and love of our lost ones is sealed inside to comfort us.”

- Brian Jaques


Original Post
blitheblog.com