I learned around 1992 at age 22 that I likely would not be able to have children on my own. At that time there were very limited options to fix the issues that prevented me from conceiving. The options were very expensive, not covered by insurance, and invitro fertilization was brand new. When delivering the news my doctor didn’t say it could not ever happen, so I had a little sliver of hope that I could become pregnant. When I learned about my reproductive issues I was recently divorced and not trying to conceive. I had always wanted to adopt as well. I was devastated but held onto the tiny hope that it could miraculously happen and with the idea of adoption, I figured I would be a mother at some point.

I continued with life. Was this my plan B? I went to graduate school and began building my career. I dated but wasn’t finding a life partner, someone with whom I would want to have children. I decided that if I hadn’t found a partner by age 30, that I would adopt on my own. The problem was that I did not want to begin parenthood (purposefully) as a single mother. I knew and respected single mothers and I knew that I wanted to be in a relationship before becoming a parent. When I turned 30 and still single, the thought crossed my mind that I didn’t have to have children, it wasn’t a requirement. I could decide to be childless. As I thought about life without children, I became more and more convinced that I did not want children.  And so, I embraced this life plan (Plan C?) that I would live without children.

Several years later, I began dating someone and four years later we married in 2007 (I was 37). Over those years I started thinking about motherhood again. Since I had made the decision to be childless years before, I was apprehensive. How would it look to the people I previously told I wanted to be childless to now say that I wanted children? I felt shame about my desire to be a mother. It took a while before I spoke to my husband about children. Shortly thereafter we began the process for adoption; this was a terribly invasive and painful process. The short of it is that we would not be allowed to adopt in this state. I was heartbroken, again. I tried many avenues for adoption, each path brought more heartache.  Then, I learned about the various Assisted Reproductive Technologies(ART) available now that had not been available when I first learned about my reproductive issues.  A new plan! Is this Plan E now?

The first ART doctor we saw was extremely encouraging about our situation. We were so excited about the prospect of becoming parents through invitro fertilization. We can be parents! I will get to be a mother after-all, hope was not lost. The next years were brutal on me physically, mentally, and spiritually. Our marriage was strained. I began with a clinic in our city for the first round of IVF. Because of insurance, the next rounds I had to fly back and forth to a clinic in another state. I went through several surgeries and treatments to correct some issues, one completed round of IVF, another discontinued the day before implant because of the quality of eggs, and two other rounds that were discontinued at some point.  We had to let go of the idea of having a child together and began looking for an alternative – egg donation.  When we had to let go of that dream, we embraced a new plan – embryo donation. We identified the embryo and were gearing up for implantation when we learned that I am diabetic and wouldn’t be able to go forward with this implant.  With each of the failures, I tried unsuccessfully to let go of the dream of motherhood. With this last failure, I knew that I needed to let the dream go. I knew my body and spirit could not take anymore. Though I knew that, I could not let it go.

I stayed angry for a very, very long time. A counselor said to me that “we can rewrite the story” suggesting that how we tell our stories affects how we see ourselves and the world.  I screamed at her “I don’t want to rewrite the f****** story, I want to be a mother!”We ended up having to file bankruptcy when the insurance company refused to pay the covered procedure.  I fought for more than a year to get this straightened out. Each person I spoke to agreed that it was covered and should be paid and each time the higher ups refused payment.  And then, my husband and I separated. We sold the house we bought believing that we would fill it with children.

I don’t know how many plans had been changed over the years and I don’t know precisely when a new plan became my plan. It was a much more gradual process for me than deciding on a new plan. I knew that parenthood was not going to happen for me, I knew I needed to let it go. Yet, I didn’t decide to embrace a Plan G. I tried to let go of the dream, I tried many rituals like burning all my journals, throwing away all the ART materials, walking the labyrinth, making art, journaling and so forth. I cried with my Spiritual Director, went to counseling, tried to start a support group, yelled, cried, prayed and hurled accusations at God. Under all that anger, I also felt deeply ashamed.  In my first Plan B, when I was in my early 20’s I had learned to accept that I would not birth a child. It was such a painful thing at the time, but I had gotten through it. I was ashamed that I got my hopes up that science could change that so that I could have a child. It was my own fault that I was in so much pain.

I don’t think I really established a new plan. Gradually, the pain decreased. My husband and I began therapy and reunited. We purchased a new home that fits us and our current lifestyle. We have hobbies and enjoy being with each other. Over the years, I let go of my anger and developed a stronger relationship with my Higher Power. I have a good life, a happy marriage, and a fulfilling ministry.  There will always be a space in my heart the size of a child. I am no longer controlled by the pain, desperation, and devastation that once gripped me.  Today, my plan doesn’t have a letter behind it.  It is simply my life and for that, I am grateful.

The Rev. Dr. Michelle Pederson

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