I have a strange thankfulness recently as I connect with other women that experience infertility.
Before I lodge that gratefulness though, let me remind us that not all infertility is alike. Bearing life is a fragile, miraculous, delicate process; the "reasons" can be countless, and many are mysterious. And even if some of us are alike in technical terms, each of us has our own story with this. In such a place of vulnerability, honoring each person is key.
There are strings that lace us together though, and one is commonly this: feeling like our bodies have betrayed us. For many women, this is the first experience of their body not doing what it is supposed to do. Yes, what it was designed to do.
And here is where a strange thankfulness arises in me, quiet and sure. The battle of body betrayal was fought in my 20s. Deep within me, even as I walk steps each day, I am acutely aware that this body's function is a fragile, precious gift. I can steward it, I can honor it, but I cannot control it.
And so, even with our own brand of infertility, I have at least this: a knowledge that this life, literally - this body's life, is not my own. And neither would be one that I am to mother. Freedom.