Be fruitful and multiplySaturday, March 01, 2014
My husband and I were talking about M's future. Her life, as we imagined it. We talked about her children, and our hopes that if she chose, she would be able to mother them without the same heartache that had befallen us.
Imagine that- having a baby who may one day be a mother.
I have two older sons, and while they may one day be parents- they were not born with the capability for life already in place.
My daughter has the seeds for countless generations already in place and waiting inside of her body.
And those seeds were, at one time, in my infant body (so to speak), and in my mother's body- and so on for countless generations.
I look at this sweet tiny girl, toddling around on her unsteady legs and I am awed that her generations are already in place.
My Beatrix had many anomalies that affected many parts of her body- but her reproductive organs were smashingly perfect. She had two minuscule ovaries full of her own generations, and a small womb.
I remember the sadness with which I heard the words- "here are her ovaries", from one of the physicians as they looked over test results- fetal MRI, I believe.
That was one of those moments when I became fully aware of all that would be lost- that an entire piece of my family was being wiped out in one fell swoop. And it was a messy cut- a slap in the face.
Her future intended would love, marry, and create a family with some other mother's daughter.
Her children would remain unnamed. All of those lovely children, half of whose genetic makeup was already present in her body- gone.
Can you imagine? She was the end of her own family line.
It's difficult to contemplate- that missing future.
Sometimes the sadness isn't because of what was, but what will never be.
The potential unfulfilled.
I can't forget the way that her heart beat under my fingertips- I have that forever, and my pulse will match that discordant rhythm at the end of my life.
But I will never hold her own newborn daughter in my arms.