The Snow Child

Reading is an amazing thing to me.  Reading takes you to places you’ll never go, helps you meet people you’d never know, and sometimes in almost magical moments puts a voice to the thoughts you don’t know how to speak. 

This happened when I was reading a book called, The Snow Child, written by Eowyn Ivey.  I don’t know Eowyn Ivey’s background – I don’t know if she is married or not, has kids or not.

There is a quote in her book that explains to absolute perfection how I feel about my infertility.  A lot of people think that I’ve “gotten over it” and I am happy to report, I have, to an extent.  My arms aren’t constantly aching for a child.  My house doesn’t cry out to be filled with the sounds of children.  I don’t feel guilt at the fact that I cant give my husband a child – but sometimes, even with all the healing, it still hurts.

I just could never quite explain why, and then I read this quote:

“She had watched other women with infants and eventually understood what she craved: the boundless permission-no, the absolute necessity- to hold and kiss and stroke this tiny person. Cradling a swaddled infant in their arms, mothers would distractedly touch their lips to their babies’ foreheads. Passing their toddlers in a hall, mothers would tousle their hair even sweep them up in their arms and kiss them hard along their chins and necks until the children squealed with glee. Where else in life, Mabel wondered, could a woman love so openly and with such abandon?”

The beauty and the truth of those words, took my breath away and in one moment summed up what I have taken 7 years to explain.

That is the power of books.

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