I’m 48 & my wife (of almost 23 years :woohoo: ) will soon be the same. We suffer from primary, wholly unexplained, infertility. We did lots of AIH, 9 IVFs & 2 FETs, all of which failed :grr: . Most of our embryos were of poor quality & even the few good ones did not implant, and the doctors here (Israel; IVF’s basically free) have no idea why. We adopted 2 boys (closed & public; that’s how all domestic adoptions are here, by law) who are now almost 15 & just-turned 11 (were 4 months & 2.5 weeks when we got 'em). (Side note: Like a cyberfriend told me once, adoption may be second choice but it’s [I]not[/I] second best!)
Back when we were doing all the treatments, I posted here sporadically (under a different username) but I haven’t posted anything in maybe 10 years or so. Why am I posting now? Everytime my wife has her period, we wonder/hope it will be her last. So, I wrote the following poem, which I would like to share.
We are orthodox Jews and there are Jewish concepts/words in my poem (tho’ I tried to keep these to a minimum). I’ve put in explanatory links which, I hope, will help.
My wife’s monthly visitor, an unlooked-for aunt,
Her time with us now runs very scant.
"Foul witch, what makest thou in our sight?"
Leave! Begone, mocking meanspirited old wight.
No “change” to be dreaded but a welome relief
from physical pain and spiritual grief.
(God unjust? I won’t go down that route
but still, at long last, His “No” is now moot.)
Nidda, mikveh, reunion, the cycle will end
to understand it all, I will not pretend.
The commandment is what is; our lot’s to obey
yet I must wonder that our Sages say
“Potential life not fulfilled”. We are very distraught
Sham, hollow words to those whose potential is naught
All these years, in the face of such notions,
were we just going through the motions?
From all of the strictures, we’ll soon be exempt
I pray familiarity will not breed contempt,
Heaven forbid! I thank God for my wife
A blessing she is, the joy of my life.
We’ve long put away the needles and vials
and forlorn, crumpled hopes, heaped up in piles.
Two souls we’ve adopted; ours is the gain
Therefore, in truth, we can, and will, not complain.
Yet my “Good riddance!” will also ring hollow
and be, in one sense, not easy to swallow.
One hope yet I hold, in secret, on the sly;
and as she departs, I will let it die
Oh, what a tale, love, we have spun.
On to a new chapter; this one is done.
Leaving nothing behind but a wistful regret
to peek in through the windows for some time yet.