I think I'm finally done with canning for this season. Lots of veggies put up, including tomatoes, pickles, sauerkraut, kimchee among others, and fruits consisting of jams/jellies, apples, and peaches. I love canning, and cooking in general. It's a divine act of creation. Especially when it's taking food which you have grown from the soil, and feeding it later to the child which you have nurtured into being. I like that feeling, that I am responsible for creative energy. It's one of the things I like about research- you start with nothing and later have some new idea that hadn't previously existed. Creativity is really the vein in which all of my passions reside- research, pregnancy, nursing, families, art, gardening and cooking. I love creative energy. I love creating.
But I am humbled by the friends I have found in the infertility community. I'm on the periphery of that group, I know. I haven't resided in that place. My only experiences with it are second hand and in assistance. I've never known the heartbreak of it in my own life. This makes me feel extremely fortunate, and forever grateful. It also fills me with admiration.
Those of you who have walked through the valley of the shadow of infertility, you are my heroines. You make me realize all that the human spirit can do, and all that it takes to break the human soul. You endure what I know I could not. You go on where I would give up. You toil and sweat where I would give in and walk away. You do me one better.
For me, my fertility is like secondary succession. The field is ready, everything is there that needs to be and the processes have begun. Things are simple for me, and I realize that.
For you, my sisters, you are primary succession. Only the rawest of materials are there. Life has not existed in this place before. There's a reason the word "barren" has been applied to both people and places. But you struggle on. You begin with a dream, and create a child of your own. You do me one step better. You are the ultimate act of creation- bringing to fruition that which was once no more than energy and wishes. You move universes to bring your child into the world. You prove that life springs from the ashes. You show the strength of the human mind. You prove with all your pain that the Phoenix does rise from the ash. I hurt for all you go through, but awe at the beautiful people that this pain can create. Beautiful adults and children, and beautiful relationships as well. Please don't be upset, I hate the pain that any of my sisters have suffered, but can't imagine my life without your friendships. We are all the summation of our experiences, and you give me comfort that joy can come from pain.
I hope that none of these words hurt any of you, for that is not my intention. These words come from a place of love for all of you, and I hope they come across as such.