Reflecting on my journey to motherhood feels almost surreal. My son is now ten years old and flourishing, and I can’t fathom it any other way. This narrative isn’t one of despair; rather, it’s a celebration—an homage to life, love, and the spirit of perseverance. It highlights how we often receive what we need, even when circumstances seem unfavorable.
At forty, I was acutely aware that conceiving might prove challenging. From the outset, my partner and I welcomed fertility treatments with open hearts. We were committed to having a child and accepted the path that lay ahead. My partner, having a child from a prior relationship, didn’t long for parenthood in the same way I did. Instead, he yearned to share the experience of raising a child with me.
After enduring four unsuccessful IVF cycles across four years, we began to consider adoption. Many prospective adoptive parents can relate to that pivotal moment in their journey when the method of becoming a parent becomes secondary to the desire to be one. We conducted thorough research, and adoption felt like a solid plan—one I had instinctively sensed would be right for me from the beginning. However, it was still a backup plan, which liberated me emotionally to attempt one more IVF cycle.
This last effort was successful. After five long years of trying, I was not only pregnant but expecting twins, whom we named Lily and Mia. They were my precious little ones, and my pregnancy became the most treasured phase of my life. Being pregnant in my forties allowed me to appreciate every moment deeply, with all my struggles and triumphs shaping my perspective. I felt ready to embrace motherhood.
However, my joy was short-lived. One early December morning, I noticed a faint trace of pink blood. What began as a minor concern escalated by noon, and by evening, I found myself in a hospital bed, monitored for contractions as the Magnesium Sulfate attempted to halt premature labor. My partner sat beside me, feeling powerless yet determined to assist in any way he could, obsessively watching the monitor for signs of hope. We clung to optimism through the night and into the next day.
By 10 a.m. the following morning, we received devastating news—there was nothing more that could be done. I delivered our two babies, only to lose them two hours later, too young to survive. My partner held them, one in each hand, until they took their last breaths.
Rather than dwell on my despair, I accepted that the only way to heal and fulfill my destiny as a mother was to confront my grief head-on. This became my life’s work. As a spiritual person, I believed there was a purpose behind this tragedy. Though I could not comprehend it, I endeavored to accept that everything was unfolding as it should. It was my deep longing to be a mother that ultimately guided me through this dark period.
The following summer, we embarked on the adoption process; I felt ready. Having researched adoption beforehand, it didn’t feel foreign. Somewhere within me, I sensed that Lily and Mia were blessing my journey. We opted for domestic adoption, ensuring our child would be born within the United States.
Nine months later, I received an unexpected call—our son had been born. I was stunned since we had yet to be selected by a birth mother, which is typically how adoption works. Yet, through this unpredictable process, we learned to embrace the unexpected. The very next day, we traveled an hour and a half from our home in Westborough, Massachusetts, to a hospital in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, to meet our son.
It was April 12, exactly one year since Lily and Mia would have been born. The cosmic connection was undeniable. As I reflect on this journey a decade later, I recognize that my son and I were meant to be together. I cannot envision any other child but him. Time has healed my heart, allowing me to look back on my pregnancy with gratitude. While I wouldn’t have wished for that outcome, I acknowledge that wishing is futile, and perhaps one of the greatest gifts from this experience is that realization. I am in awe of my son, his essence, and the profound relationship we share. He illuminates my strengths and helps heal my wounds. Yes, I marvel at the beauty and mystery of it all.
This article was originally published on Dec. 10, 2010.
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Summary:
The author shares her heartfelt journey to motherhood, navigating the challenging landscape of fertility treatments and the loss of her twins. After embracing the adoption process, she finds hope and fulfillment with her son, born on the anniversary of her twins’ due date. Through grief and healing, she learns the importance of acceptance and the beauty of her unique path to motherhood.