Driving back late last night from a round of grocery shopping, I leaned back and let out a sigh of contentment. The road we were on seemed metaphorical. I turned around in the darkness and watched the gentle heave of tiny bodies as they slept.
It is in the everyday moments like these that profound thoughts assail me. The years between 2005 and 2009 had infertility defining my life. I would alternate between pragmatism and philosophy. Convincing myself that eventually I would be a mom and mentally steeling myself for a lifetime of empty evenings. The intensity of my emotions surprised me. I never thought of myself as someone who could be obsessed with one thought and one thought only. Consumed by a hunger for information, I scoured the internet, lurked on forums, dug up information on the latest advances, mentally made notes on what next to test for or find treatment for. I was always working on a Plan B.
I visualized the multiple paths that lay ahead. All of them culminated at the same destination. The views were different, the obstacles different, the landscape varied. Looking back now on the path we traveled I find with great satisfaction that there is nothing I would change about it. None of the heartbreak, none of the tears. I am so glad that of all the paths we could have been on, this is the one we took.