I signed up to deliver dinner to Anna, my infertile friend who just gave birth to her newborn baby. Let me just say that a lot of courage was needed to click on the link and put my name down. I love her dearly but the sight of her nursery, the dimmed lighting in the living room, Anna’s hands that kept rubbing her postpartum belly, and her description of the painful labor were a little too much for me. Baby was sleeping tranquilly. I commented on the abundance of his dark hair. Anna exclaimed at her surprise of his dark hair because both she and her husband were born bald and later on grew blonde hair. I couldn’t help but wonder if I would feel the loss of the privilege of making such a comment in the future if my children are conceived with donor gametes.
Maybe by then I’ll just feel so lucky to have a baby that it doesn’t matter anymore.
(Want to participate in MicroblogMondays? Go to Mel’s post.)