Survivor's Day?? A Holiday For Us

It’s spring, and with the arrival of this season come daffodils, new leaves on trees, college breaks in Florida, and those dreaded holidays for the infertile – Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.

Each year on those days in my warm, wonderful, liberal church, special tribute is paid to mothers and fathers. The place is always packed with very pregnant women who beam radiantly while being smiled upon by all those around them. The new parents are there, too, with tired but loving looks for their little ones. And there we are trying to be cool, saluting in our hearts our own parents, but feeling a silent stab somewhere between the heart and the abdomen.

Don’t get me wrong – I recognize that parenthood is one of the world’s most difficult jobs, and one of the least recognized. Yet somewhere between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I want to salute us too; the parent hopefuls (PHs) and parents via circuitous routes (PVCRs). And when Hallmark makes the cards for this as yet unnamed day, I’d like them to recognize the following:

The bravery of those facing painful tests and surgeries in hopes of having children. I’ve never been in labor and may never have the experience, but a few endometrial biopsies, hysterosalpingograms, abdominal surgeries or varicocelectomies must somehow add up to labor. We all take these steps with only information as a result, and if we do become pregnant, still have to go through labor.
The faith of the adoptive parents, who open their hearts and homes and lives to children about whom they have limited medical and genetic information. Could he/she have Uncle Harry’s diabetes, Aunt Zelda’s great cheekbones or Cousin Clare’s learning disabilities? They don’t know and they accept their children with loving open arms.
The pain of our loss. I know infertility is not life-threatening in the traditional sense, but the life of my dream child is threatened. Peter’s blue eyes and my terrific Trivial Pursuit memory will not be passed on to future generations. Our dream has died (or been put to a severe test), and that loss needs to be recognized.
The stresses and strains that we have faced in our marriages. The depression, anger, guilt and frustration have made us vulnerable and forced us to grow stronger in our relationships, but not without a struggle.
The sincere joy we feel when a fellow infertile becomes a parent. While hoping to give life, we seem to become more sensitive to the value and meaning of life. I believe we somehow value our children more than those who take their fertility for granted.
The fact that we are normal people. I know there are children waiting to be adopted, but I want to start out as a parent like most everyone else – with a healthy, normal, ten-fingered and toed infant. I feel guilty enough about being infertile without adding to that guilt for not wanting to start my family with an older, handicapped child. I know in my heart and in my head I am not ready for that -- and that is okay!

So let’s take a minute to recognize ourselves – PHs and PVCRs somewhere between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day. Let us recognize ourselves for what we are – brave, faithful individuals who have been through a great deal and survived it all.

Written by Pat Cutulle, and reprinted from the RESOLVE of Wisconsin June/July 1999, which reprinted it from the RESOLVE of Rochester, MN, June 1995