Thankful…. Coming to Terms with Infertility

Eight years ago my husband and I spent Thanksgiving at The Tides Inn, a resort on Virginia’s Northern Neck. We were living in DC at the time, with both of our families in Nebraska, and it seemed like a nice way to reconnect and relax instead of engaging in the usual pre-Thanksgiving stress out.

Thanksgiving in 2003 was all about relaxation because at the time, T and I were in the middle of our first battle with infertility and we’d already gone through several brutal miscarriages. I was feeling pessimistic and scared.

I remember how we sat at Thanksgiving dinner in the hotel dining room, surrounded by people with families – large, small, quiet, and loud and rambunctious. I remember thinking just how much I wanted to someday have Thanksgiving surrounded by my children and at least a half dozen grandchildren, all clamoring for Grandma’s attention.

T and I looked at each other, both thinking the same wistful thoughts. And I said, “This will be our last Thanksgiving without children. I just know it. So we should be thankful for this time together alone, because it will never happen again.” And I was right. Hollis was born in September of 2004, with Holden following in January of 2006. Every holiday for the last seven years has been better than the last. I am thankful for every blessing and every moment.

Fast forward eight years and T and I are in round two with infertility and our last IUI is a failure. We’ll be starting IVF in the new year but you all know how difficult it has been for me to be hopeful, to think about possible success. But we desperately want another child in our family. I need that six pack of grandchildren someday, you know! So this year T and I packed up our boys and headed to the Tides Inn for Thanksgiving.

Last night, I sat next to my seven year old, in his adorable sweater, with his napkin folded neatly in his lap, politely using his knife and fork, and across from my five year old, also adorable, but with his napkin on the floor and his cranberry sauce flung across the table, and I looked at my husband and our boys. Again, T and I both thought the same wistful thoughts, but looking at my children I realized that we are the luckiest couple in the world. And I found it again. Hope.

I had planned a very different post for today. But as I write on the balcony of my room at The Tides Inn, there is a wedding happening outside my hotel window. We’ve seen the bridal party all weekend and it seems to be a second marriage for each.  I can hear the cheers and the laughter as I type. And I’m reminded of how life goes on, even when bad things happen.

And I can’t help but smile and think that, whatever happens in the coming months, everything will be OK.

Photograph by Stephanie Himel-Nelson.