The clock read 12:58 a.m. I was half asleep, half awake, tossing, talking and dreaming. My husband asked what was going on and I said, “There aren’t enough eggs for everybody.” I went on to tell him I felt strange as I drifted back to sleep. When I awakened later in the morning, the dream was still on my mind. In the dream, I was frying eggs while a line of people waited to be served. I could feel my heart race and panic set in as I realized there might not be enough eggs to feed them all. Although I heard no voices, I sensed they really wanted an egg. They looked angry and determined to get one.
To try and figure out what this dream could possibly mean, I did a mental inventory of the previous day’s events. After going back through the day, I remembered I had watched an episode of “48 Hours” that featured a couple trying to conceive a baby through IVF (In Vitro Fertilization). The physician they were seeing just so happened to be one of my doctors many years ago. The last segment of the program was about women choosing to freeze their eggs. Eggs, eggs and more eggs! The entire episode was filled with talk of eggs. Then it dawned on me, was this dream bothering me because once again infertility was raising its ugly head and creeping into my subconscious?
Although I was blessed to sustain a pregnancy and give birth to a beautiful daughter in 1986, it was the only time I would be able to do so. I had secondary infertility caused by endometriosis. My husband and I spent several years running back and forth to specialists, having one procedure and then another and taking fertility drugs, all to no avail. The disappointment, heartbreak and anger of the situation were overwhelming. Daily I questioned why God was doing this to us. I was mad at God, myself and the world. I had never known anyone who had to deal with this issue, so in my mind it had to be something I had done. To make matters worse, it seemed everyone around me kept getting pregnant. I wanted to be happy for them, truly I did. They were my friends and family, but my own sadness and feelings of inadequacy kept me from fully sharing in their joy. Adoption had always been an option for building our family, so when we reached the point of more invasive and expensive procedures, we chose adoption. I thank God every day that we did. Through adoption we were blessed with three additional bundles of joy, two boys and a girl. I had the family I had always dreamed of and I loved my children.
To my surprise, the desire to get pregnant was still present. Each month was met with anticipation and a silent prayer that maybe this would be the month. It never was. It helped that I was part of the adoption community and now knew many who had dealt with infertility. The ability to share the pain and ultimate joy was bonding and therapeutic. However, in private, I continued to feel the sadness of not being able to get pregnant. I thought the desire would never go away. A couple of years ago it did. I am no longer angry with God as I now understand that he knew exactly what he was doing. My children were waiting patiently far away while I was waiting not so patiently at home. A friend told me once that everything would work out. She said, “The right babies get to the right house”. They certainly did.
I concluded that if my dream was a representation of my fertility issues, I suppose those waiting for eggs could have been a symbolic representation of me. Their anger and frustration, determination and desire were really mine. Even though I thought my fertility issues were a thing of the past, maybe they will never be completely gone. While I have closed that chapter of my life, I believe it might be okay to remember what a painful time it was. I know it made me a stronger person and it showed me that my sadness and loss could fuel a drive and determination I never knew I possessed. It was that determination which allowed me to take a leap of faith and travel thousands of miles to reach my children. They were very much worth leaping for.
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