Kate Zinsmeister Harvey '10 | February 4, 2016
While the MRI hammers away around me, I whisper Our Fathers and send my thoughts into the universe. This is all for you, little one. I picture a happier scene. I see the child I’m fighting for, and even in my imagination the relief is so real it stings at my eyes. For a moment I move through pain and arrive at courage. This is all for you.
It’s been two years of Sturm und Drang. A tussle between fear and faith, desolate tears and determined strength that starts all over again every month. Battling infertility changes a person. Thoughtless comments from strangers have power over me despite huge efforts to be thick-skinned. I notice young mothers pushing strollers down the street and women with sweet rounded bellies buying paint in the hardware store and families who take up a whole pew in church. The longing sometimes feels like a physical hole that exists somewhere between my throat and my stomach.