Having Kids After The Doctors Said Never (The Mother’s Day Story Of My Wife And Four Little Miracles)
By Chris Palmer, M.A
I remember seeing her face when the doctor gave the news.
It was an emptiness I had never seen before. Like some part of her was being torn away, leaving her less somehow.
Like part of her died in that moment.
“You have a 0% chance of having children,” he said. “I’m sorry but there’s nothing else we can do for you.”
There was a surprising coldness to his delivery. I remember he was in a rush to get to his next patient.
As he walked out, I felt myself wanting to reach out to stop him. Kind of like helplessly grasping for a life preserver as it floats away on the open sea.
We were alone.
But the truth was, she was more alone.
Although I was there for her, I could see that no one could change this. This was her devastation, her tragedy.
Up to this point it had been over two years trying and failing. Medical procedure after medical procedure.
Poking and prodding and extracting and injecting. I remember a month where I gave her 90 shots in the stomach to help fertility.
It was in those moments that I realized wanting to be a mother was one of the great desires of her life, as if every part of her believed this was her purpose for living.
It was her dream.
Like every single thing that happened in her life led to this moment.
So how could it be? No kids? Zero chance? How could this be true?
Amazingly, she bounced back quickly.
She went to an acupuncturist who specialized in fertility. And we started the adoption process.
No more drugs. No more procedures. Just acupuncture and a back-of-mind hope that maybe, just maybe…
She put so much effort into the adoption process. So many hoops to jump through.
She was so strong.
And once we were approved to adopt, we found out she was finally pregnant.
No drugs, no medical help.
It was miraculous. The doctors couldn’t believe it.
And after a long, scary, no-pain-meds natural labor — complete with the very real scare of losing him at birth — we finally had our son.
I’ll never forget the look on her face, the tears flooding her cheeks as she held him.
I still see that look sometimes.
We had three more beautiful children since then. All natural. And each one fills a part of her — and me — that was almost reserved for sharing their lives in exactly this way.
Like God or the universe or both somehow planned this.
So today there will be no cards that read “World’s Best Mom.” She realizes, and so do I, that every mother has her story and no card can capture it exactly. And being “World’s Best Mom” is never what it’s really all about.
It’s the connection.
The pull of the universe that draws us in to anything that completes us or magnifies us.
Life is beautiful and bittersweet. And of course the agonies and heartbreak will undoubtedly return.
But not today.
Today there are hugs and time and memories of all of it.
And that’s really what started all of this in the first place…