A few days ago, I woke up from a dream in which I discovered ripe apples on a blossom-filled tree in the backyard, a dove nesting on eggs in our parakeet cage, and baby hamsters in the hamster cage.
It left a smile on my lips – all of those surprises, all of that abundance, all of those wish-come-true fertility symbols.
Today, though, I discovered that the apple apparently has another symbolic meaning: mortality.
At 42, it’s hard to escape this duality. I have age-related secondary infertility. In the past year, my husband and I have been through two miscarriages. He’s never had a biological child of his own, while I have two from a prior marriage. My husband is such a wonderful person that I can’t imagine him going through life without having a little someone to carry on his wonderfulness. And yet each day that goes by, I am reminded how time may be running out for us.
The question on my mind lately is, “When is it time to give up?” The women around me who are well into their pregnancies now are mostly in their late 20s and early 30s. They glow with youth (and the magic of pregnancy hormones). I look in the mirror and notice the crow’s feet, the little sag of skin around my neck that wasn’t there ten years ago. Sometimes on a weekday evening after a long day at work, I can barely keep my eyes open past 8:30 p.m. Where on earth do I think I’m going to get the energy to be up and down with a newborn all night? My body may have the wisdom to have decided that adding a new life to a tired old body requires more energy than it can produce.
And yet, I can’t stop seeing babies everywhere I go. Their soft skin, the cuddly little clothes. I try to imagine what a baby with my husband will look like. He is Indian and I am Caucasian. We’re both long legged and long fingered. His eyes are brown and mine are green. What combinations of genes might our baby end up with?
We’ve agonized about IVF; neither one of us is crazy about plunging ahead and spending tens of thousands of dollars to mess with Mother Nature. We’ve considered adoption, but he’s not quite ready to give up the biological child pursuit. So I try to eat a healthy diet, reduce caffeine intake, get some acupuncture and take yoga classes.
One day, though, we’re going to have to decide something. Even if we don’t, nature is going to decide for us. For now, my heart clings to this quote from Julia Indichova’s The Fertile Female:
At any given point throughout this journey, two birds might sing. The bird of doubt sings the song of blame and misfortune and self-flagellation. The bird of faith says, `More shall be revealed.’ You’ll have to decide which of those two birds you choose to feed.
I would like to feed the bird of faith, trusting that some wonderful and abundant surprises are up ahead. To do this means feeding that bird an apple, the one that I choose to believe is a lucky sign.
Sources:
www.appleofyourpie.com/appleinfo.html
www.arenaflowers com/facts/flowers/flower_meanings/appleblossoms_flowers
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Susan R.S. Lewis is a 42-year-old attorney, writer, and mother of two in Northern California. Susan married last year for the second time and has experienced two miscarriages with her husband, Raj. They still hope to add to their family one day, either naturally or through adoption.
Susan’s blog can be found at www.fallingaway.vox.com.