Infertility: A Grandparents Story~by Linda McDowall

I am a grandma of infertility; I am my daughter’s mom.

I have watched my daughter and son-in-law try to have a little one. For years I watched as my own daughter arms ached to hold one of her own. I seen her each Mother’s Day so desperately wanting to be called “mom.” I watched her as other friends and family had babies. She smiled and loved on them, but I her mom, knew she was hurting.

Many of us take having children for granted. I myself had four, so why is my daughter having so much trouble?

I know it’s not anyone’s fault, but I wondered why did God choose them to have to endure this pain? What could I do to help my hurting daughter? The answer? Nothing, absolutely nothing. The ache for my daughter and my personal ache to be a grandma, is something I would have to bear alone.

The day did come when an announcement was made, a baby girl was on her way! I cannot explain my joy for my daughter, I was so excited for her and yes, myself. I slid into my role as “MyMy” and knew in life, there would be nothing better.

The talk of another baby brought excitement. I mean how hard could it be? She did it already and there surely would not be any problems now.

I was wrong and this time the infertility monster would be doubly cruel. I would watch as not just one baby, but three would come and go.

It would begin with the little boy.

My daughter called asking me to come get her, and drive her to the clinic. My mind reeled and everything in me wanted to scream for her. I was of no comfort to her; I didn’t know what to do. I watched this little one move, heard this little one’s heart beat and heard the doctor say “You having a miscarriage.”

I was numb and I sat there crying, crying for my daughter, crying that I once again could do nothing for her and I cried for the loss of a grandbaby.

If you are a parent of a child who is going through infertility know this, you will need to be stronger than you ever thought possible. Your pain will not only be for your child and her or his empty arms, but for your own empty arms as a grandparent. We are all in this together.

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