Dear Friend,
First, let me clarify that I never sought your opinion. You, who share a similar background with me, having been raised in a faith that teaches love and selflessness, do you understand the immense sacrifices I’ve made for my children? Have you any idea how many needles I’ve endured, how many medical procedures I’ve faced, or how many times I found myself in the ER, overwhelmed by pain? Each tear I shed was a testament to my longing.
You, who conceived your child with a simple oversight, have you ever paused to reflect on what it truly means to walk in the shoes of someone facing infertility? Do you grasp the heartache of a body that refuses to fulfill its most profound desire? The pain of discovering yet another negative pregnancy test, only to find yourself rummaging through the trash in hope that maybe, just maybe, a second line has appeared?
These children are born from the love my partner and I share, and from the dreams we’ve nurtured of a family. Does it matter that a fraction of their lives was spent in a lab? The love I feel for them swells within me each time I sense their movements. Our bodies shared nutrients, oxygen, and a heartbeat long before they were born.
Can you fathom the depth of my love? To think that something which brings forth more love could be deemed a “sin” is heartbreaking. You mentioned my health struggles were merely “part of a bigger plan.” Have you considered that perhaps meeting the compassionate professionals at the fertility clinic was also part of that design?
If you witnessed a child in danger, would you simply accept it as fate without calling for help? You’ve labeled my journey immoral for using “any means necessary” to conceive. But many infertility issues are indeed treatable medical conditions. Would you advise a loved one suffering from a curable illness to forgo treatment in the name of destiny?
You suggested I was callous for discarding “weak” embryos. But I want you to know that I have treated every embryo with the utmost respect, refusing to discard even those deemed low quality. The embryos I chose not to transfer are safely preserved, holding potential for future families, including others who might be struggling, as I once did.
You accused me of taking life for granted, but do you realize that I grieved for every egg that didn’t mature, every embryo that stalled in growth, every attempt that didn’t result in a pregnancy? I lit candles and prayed, often to the point of tears, wishing for clarity amidst the storm.
Look at my children—my joyful, vibrant miracles born from love. They brighten any room and bring smiles to faces that need it. Listen as they call me “Mama,” that sweet name a precious love letter to the one who gave them life. They marvel at the world, finding joy in simple moments and laughter in fleeting silence.
Watch their excitement as they spot an airplane, or how they wave to the mail carrier with pure delight. Their genuine concern for others, their innocent songs—these are all expressions of a love that fills our home. You can call me a sinner, and I won’t argue; I am flawed and human. But being a mother? That’s a blessing I cherish deeply.
If you’re looking for more insightful perspectives on fertility and home insemination, check out this excellent resource on pregnancy and explore some helpful products like the at home insemination kit. For those interested in a deeper dive into the topic, visit this blog post that offers valuable insights.
In closing, my journey may not fit into a neat little box, but it’s filled with love, resilience, and the joy of motherhood.
Summary:
This heartfelt letter addresses a critic of IVF, emphasizing the sacrifices made for children born from love. It highlights the emotional journey of infertility, the respect for embryos, and the joy brought by motherhood, while inviting readers to explore further resources on home insemination.