To my 12 remaining embryos,
The day we learned there were 14 of you, we instantly knew our story of hope wasn’t just for us. You have been frozen now for almost 3 years. Sometimes my infertility feels like a distant memory and other times the pain and anguish of an empty womb floods my heart like it was just yesterday. My body went through a lot just in hopes that God would give me one of you. So when the doctor called to tell us there were 14 of you, we were in shock.
I have been thinking about you a lot lately.
I don’t really know if we will be going back for another round of IVF. Your siblings are triplets and it is kind of a lot right now. And if we decided to have another baby and had the opportunity to bring one of you into this world, it wouldn’t be for a few more years and we know we could only take one of you. I wish we could take all of you, but I know deep in my heart that God didn’t make you so I could keep all of you just for myself.
It saddens me because I honestly can’t bare the thought of some else raising you. And truthfully, it is hard for me to accept that someone else will be your mom. She will feel you grow in her womb and share in your first moments. She will be the one to hold you when you are sad, help you when you are sick, keep you safe when you are scared. She will be the one you depend on, the one you cry for, the one you make all your memories with. She will love you with a special kind of love a mother has for her child. She will know you. She will watch you take your first steps, hear your first words. She will be the one to watch you grow up, graduate from school, and one day get married and have children of your own. I can feel the jealousy in my heart just thinking about her sharing those moments with you. I grieve not knowing you like she will know you. I grieve not being able to look deep into those beautiful eyes of yours and tell you how much I love you. I grieve giving you to her. You won’t be mine anymore.
However, the truth is, as much as I call you mine, or even one day hers, you are God’s perfectly made little snowflakes. And I have to trust in what God told me in the very beginning: “You are hope, hope for many.” Deep in my heart I know that your mama will love you like I love you. And even though it is hard for me to fully comprehend that right now, I know, one day, He will prepare my heart for her to be your mom, but I will always be connected to you. I will be a part of you. I will always be loving you.
Your first Mom.
*This piece was previously published on ourjourneytoparenthoodblog.com
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