Dear Sarah,
First and foremost, I never sought your opinion. You, who share a Catholic upbringing with me, a faith that teaches the virtues of love and sacrifice, do you truly understand the extent of my sacrifices for these children? Do you know how many needles I endured, how many procedures I faced, or how many times I was rushed to the ER in excruciating pain? Do you have any idea of the countless tears I shed along the way?
You, who became a mother after a fleeting moment of forgetfulness regarding contraception, have you ever tried to comprehend what it means to walk the path of infertility? Can you fathom the anguish of a body that denies its own desires?
Do you know the pain of staring at yet another negative pregnancy test, only to retrieve it from the trash an hour later, hoping against hope for a miracle? Do you realize how much love was poured into the creation of these children? They are born from the love shared between a husband and wife, from the dreams of hopeful parents, and from the very essence of a mother’s yearning for her future children.
Do you think that the brief time they spent in a lab diminishes any of that? Each time I felt them move within me, my heart swelled with gratitude. My body nourished them; we shared nutrients, oxygen, and a heartbeat. Even now, as I cradle them close, our heartbeats resonate in harmony. Can you even imagine the depth of my love for them? Or how much they love me in return? Do you truly believe that something which brings forth more love can be labeled a “sin”?
You mentioned that my cyst-ridden ovaries are part of a “greater plan.” Have you considered that finding the compassionate professionals at the fertility clinic could also be a part of that plan? If you witnessed a child struck by a vehicle, would you simply dismiss it as fate and refrain from calling for help?
You asserted that it was immoral to use “any means necessary” to conceive. Are you aware that many infertility cases are treatable medical conditions? If a loved one faced cancer, would you advise her to refuse chemotherapy, insisting it was wrong to fight against fate, even when skilled and caring individuals could lend assistance?
You accused me of discarding “unused” or “weak” embryos as if they were refuse. Did you know that I could not bring myself to discard even the lowest graded embryo? Any embryos that were not transferred back to me were treated with the utmost respect, safeguarded in a medical facility, filled with potential for either us or another couple seeking a child through donation.
You claimed I was “taking life for granted.” Do you know how I grieved over every egg that failed to mature, every embryo that ceased to develop, and every blastocyst that didn’t implant? I lit candles, laid out prayer cards, and wept until I was unsure of what clarity felt like.
Look at my children—my beautiful, vibrant, love-filled miracles. Watch them illuminate a room with their presence, witness their laughter bringing joy to the most solemn faces. Listen to the sweet sound of “Mama” escaping their lips, a love letter from their hearts to mine. Observe their wonder as they discover the world around them, finding delight in the simplest moments.
Feel their tiny fingers clasp yours in innocent trust. You may label me a sinner, and I won’t argue; I am human, I am imperfect, and I have erred in many ways. But being a mother? That is not one of my transgressions.
If you’re interested in exploring more about home insemination options, check out this at-home intracervical insemination syringe kit. For further insights, visit Laura Smith’s profile, an authority on this topic. Additionally, the NHS provides excellent resources on intrauterine insemination that can be beneficial for anyone on a similar journey.
In summary, the journey to motherhood is filled with challenges, sacrifices, and immeasurable love. It is a path that should be respected, not condemned.