Crying in the Diaper Aisle Part 3 and Conclusion?

*photo by Christart.com

I moved into another department at work because the one I was in was borderline abusive. I couldn't handle it. I was too emotional. I decided to try a few more treatments with different drugs. I remember going through all kinds of scenarios of what would be a romantic time to tell my husband we were pregnant, when and if we were pregnant. Each of those special occasions came and went with disappointment. (I know. Glutton for self-punishment. What can I say?)

It was Valentine's day. I made it all the way to Pregnancy Test Day. I went early in the morning for the blood work and then to work. I vaguely recall attending a Valentine's Tea in my department. I was tranferred in my mind to Dreamland once more. When I got home later in the day, the message-indicator light was blinking on our answering machine. I was advised not drink any wine (I didn't anyway.) because the tests, although they came back positive, would have to be verified by the doctor. His was the second message; we were pregnant. I was beside myself with joy. I ran to the drug store, bought a baby bottle and a Valentine's Day card and left it on the kitchen table for my husband. (It would be the first thing he saw when he came up the stairs.) The first person I told at work--BIG MISTAKE--advised me to be careful. I could end up having a miscarriage. Don 't you know I cried? I was scared.

It's been almost thirteen years since that phone call. I have spent those years making sure I didn't take a single day for granted. When it came to changing diapers, I didn't complain. I thought of those who would give anything to change a diaper. We rarely had need for a baby sitter. When and if we did go out on our own (which was practically never) I only let a close friend watch her but when she moved away, we didn't leave her with anyone else.

Please don't jump to any conclusions, yet, although I'm just about done. I promise. I believe from my experience, that anyone who goes through fertility treatments and even adoption shares a common bond. You don't go through what we went through and forget those who don't have a happy ending and not feel their pain. It's not something you ever forget. However, when you are on the receiving end of a miracle(s), you don't forget that your children are miracles either.

I don't know why some folks are blessed with children and others are not. It's certainly not because God loves us any differently. He loves all. What I can tell you is this: don't EVER (even for one second) think that you can't make a difference in the life of a child. You don't have to be a parent to make a difference. With the way some folks treat their children, you may be the only source of real love they get. You're not a monster if you don't want children of your own either. You're honest. I know how it's difficult to understand why some parents gush over their children and don't get me started when a child behaves more like a monster than a child. It's wrong behavior and it ought not to be encouraged. When you see a child display signs of abuse, by all means get involved. The child needs someone to rescue him/her. Last but not least, if you are a parent...well that's another blog entry isn't it? Do you want to write that one?