Duda’im

The pain of secondary infertility is different than primary.

But it is one that creates similar feelings of isolation and loneliness.

Please don’t gaslight people’s pain, even if they have children.

Pain is pain is pain is pain.

“Mommy, why don't you buy some duda'im?” (duda’im are mandrakes)

We were in the middle of reading a bedtime story, an ancient Yaffa Gancz book. I'm not sure if there was something in the pictures that triggered the question or if the gears had been turning since that morning's chumash (torah) class.

"It’s flowers, and you can eat them and then it makes you have a baby," my 6-year old son continued.

I smiled at him. "You would really like another baby, wouldn't you?"

He widened his already large eyes and nodded.

"A thousand."

Well.

It had been an emotional weekend for me as my "baby" turned 4. My friend has a son the same age. She's already had another two since he was born and there's another on the way.

If having babies was a competition, I would certainly be losing.

And of course it’s not, really. But why then do people have conversations with my stomach instead of my eyes, wondering if there is something brewing?

I spoke to my great aunt on the phone a little while ago and the conversation went like this:

Great Aunt: “So what's doing?”

Me: “Not much! B"H everyone is well.”

Great Aunt: “And what's new?”

Me: “Um... I mean, same old....”

Great Aunt: “No, I mean are you expecting?”

Upon hearing the anecdote, my ever-so-wise friend quipped:

Since when has child raising become such an insignificant matter than if one is not procreating, it’s as if they are not doing anything of worth?

And how.

Life had... a lot of things going on.

And even when we thought the time had come, our rav (rabbi) instructed otherwise. But living in a society in which having child after child seems to be a given, one begins to feel somewhat of a social outcast.

And the children's comments don't help.

“Mommy, say aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!,”my son instructed me one morning.

I dutifully opened my mouth wide while he peered inside.

"Ummm.... what are you looking for?" I inquired.

"I'm looking to see if there is a baby in your rechem (womb) or if you are an akara (barren woman)."

Oh.

"Zeiskeit (my sweet child), how can I be an akara? We have 4 beautiful kids in our family!"

"I know, but you didn't have a baby in a long, long time. Everyone has babies except for you."

And it’s true. Just look around my neighborhood and you can count the women who are not either pregnant or pushing a stroller.

I am one of them.

It is a private pain that can't be shared.

My own questions that echo that of my kids'. Hashem, why?

Until the time is ripe, I will continue to try and answer my own questions with the answers

I've already reviewed hundreds of times.

I know them, I just need to re-internalize.

Again.

And again.

And in the meantime, I'm going to pursue my circular.

Maybe my makolet has a sale this week on duda'im.