I try not to do it... I try not to look, knowing how it will trigger me.
I try not to read about infertile women looking for babies, but I did it today, because I'm a masochist, and it seems like today is a good day for pain.
Today's find involves yet another infertile blogger, advising others how to find a baby. Yes, Virginia, there are many like you, wanting to know oh-so-desperately, "what needs to happen so a baby can be delivered, ASAP?"
Many years ago, I had many discussions with a first-mother who lost her son, first through adoption, then later to suicide.
Our phone conversations were especially hard because I could hear the sob in her voice. Her voice sounded like that of a child... yet her words written on adoption forums read like she was a very well-informed profoundly strong woman. Like me, (at the time), she was a warrior in words, but a weepy child in private.
When I first asked my adoptive parents why they didn't have children of their own, they told me they couldn't get children of their own. I don't know if they used the word "infertility", I was too young anyway to understand five syllable words at the time. Had there not been more to it, I would have never heard and probably would never have asked.