Being informed in 2003, that I would not be able to bear children hit me like a ton of bricks. I always dreamed of being married, raising four boys and residing in a house with a wrap-around porch.

The separation of my parents, uncles and aunts’ separations didn’t steal my desire. I never knew why either couple pulled apart from each other. Especially since, I saw moments of shared love between them. Direct, loving eye-contact, slow dancing, shared laughter, holding each other as if they were the last person on earth and kissing regardless of onlookers.

My mother always stated “when you cannot change a situation, put it behind you and keep moving”. The fact that I will never carry a baby in my womb was filed far away. Until, previously, pregnant women showed off their newborns. I located the nearest exit for fear of breaking down. Imagine running from an infant.

Such an aching feeling that I thought was behind me only lived in the shadows and appeared as a ghost. A well-known Family Therapist recommended that I volunteer for Border Babies. But there was a never-ending waiting list.

During COVID-19 I stayed at the home of a close friend. Her daughter gave birth to twins, Robert and Royal January 2020. January-June, she kept the babies at her place. Then, she started bringing them around. I stayed upstairs writing in the dining room. From afar, I could hear the sweet, gurgling sounds that babies make. At this time, they were being carried in their car seats to sit in the living room with their aunt Karen.

She had to excuse herself for the restroom. So, guess who she said “I’ll be right back” to? Me. Thinking she watched both babies only Royal sat in the living room. I entered the area and room, stood in front of her and grabbed her tiny, fingers as Royal looked up smiling at me. That was the beginning of my melting heart. So, I picked her up, took her into my arms and whisked her into the dining room where I entertained her with cartoon for babies on my Kindle Fire.

For thirty minutes, Royal watched the screen, yawned, and eventually fell asleep as her tiny, curly head rested on my shoulder. Those magical, moments placed an indescribable joy in my soul. I am thankful for the opportunity that God provided for me to begin the healing process.

For years I asked God “why did you deprive me of the joy of motherhood? God by giving me responsibility of being Power of Attorney to people unable to care for themselves which spanned over 20 years. So, this was these were my children in a sense. Now, I can begin to live my life in the same way that parents begin to do so once their children become adults.

Karen M. Woodbury

Photo by Elia Pellegrini on Unsplash