the art of waiting

"Because we spend much of our young lives imagining ourselves as parents, it isn't surprising that even the strongest of us let the body's failure become how we define ourselves.  But life, which gives us other things to do, tells us otherwise.  The feeling of grief subsides; we think through our options and make choices."

This is an excerpt from a book I read three years ago.  A childhood family friend is a lovely author and when her newest book The Art of Waiting, came out, I jumped on the chance to own a copy.  Funny enough, I had not had any infertility issues and was pregnant with my second child that completed our family.  I went to a public reading in which the author, Belle, was making her rounds to different areas signing copies.  I must've been about 15 weeks pregnant (a secret only Jacob and I knew at the time) accompanied by my mom.  As Belle read her own words, the heartache of what she and her husband endured was conveyed in her tone more than it was in the words coming out of her lips.

I felt almost guilty being pregnant and reading this book, however, it gave me perspective.  Perspective to be thankful and truly understand others' struggles with infertility.

Now, it seems to come full circle.  My body has become an option to offer someone else the joy of motherhood.  If this option is not a viable one, it will have helped the grief subside so that the next option (potentially adoption) can be explored.  As I write this, I realize the make up of that word - from the verb adopt, in the form of a noun:  ad-option.  Another option.  Again, full circle.  If it doesn't work out with me as their gestational carrier, they can close this chapter and open another, the next one.