I know this couple who is always eating at interesting new restaurants. They take real vacations -- I mean, the kind where you sleep in hotels, and go on your own dime instead of your parents', and don't spend three weeks beforehand panicking that you have enough diapers. They take mini weekend road trips to see fun things, just because the fun things are there.
I confess: I covet. Oh, how I covet. It's not that I've ever been particularly cosmopolitan (those of you who are familiar with my hometown can have a good chuckle now) or cared about interesting new restaurants. But I do like a good road trip. I like occasional spontaneity and fun things and sleeping in hotels. (Yes, I know it is possible to go to a hotel with children, but let's be honest: when they're all in pack'n'plays, it just ain't fun.) I am attracted by the idea of having enough time and money and energy and freedom to leave the house for more than 2-3 hours at a time.
But here's the thing: this couple has struggled with infertility for years. They've done drugs, IVF, I don't even know what else because I am the exact opposite of infertile. The thing they want the most is what I already have. (Or, at least, one quarter of what I have.) And when I think of the cost of their freedom -- the longing for a child, the heartbreak of failed treatments, what it must feel like to watch someone like me get pregnant four times in four years -- I am ashamed.
You all know me well enough to know that I'm not ever saying, would never say, that I would rather have anything other than my three precious boys and the little one growing inside right now. I'm not going to go into all of that again. I've just been struck again recently how easy it is to believe the lies, that the grass is greener on the other side, that anyone's seemingly wonderful life is ever without a cost.
I confess: I covet. Oh, how I covet. It's not that I've ever been particularly cosmopolitan (those of you who are familiar with my hometown can have a good chuckle now) or cared about interesting new restaurants. But I do like a good road trip. I like occasional spontaneity and fun things and sleeping in hotels. (Yes, I know it is possible to go to a hotel with children, but let's be honest: when they're all in pack'n'plays, it just ain't fun.) I am attracted by the idea of having enough time and money and energy and freedom to leave the house for more than 2-3 hours at a time.
But here's the thing: this couple has struggled with infertility for years. They've done drugs, IVF, I don't even know what else because I am the exact opposite of infertile. The thing they want the most is what I already have. (Or, at least, one quarter of what I have.) And when I think of the cost of their freedom -- the longing for a child, the heartbreak of failed treatments, what it must feel like to watch someone like me get pregnant four times in four years -- I am ashamed.
You all know me well enough to know that I'm not ever saying, would never say, that I would rather have anything other than my three precious boys and the little one growing inside right now. I'm not going to go into all of that again. I've just been struck again recently how easy it is to believe the lies, that the grass is greener on the other side, that anyone's seemingly wonderful life is ever without a cost.
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