Canned Goods

I recently reconnected with someone I had met through an online women's support group for Infertility. The group proved to be a valuable resource for many women who were battling fertility issues, and after sharing our daily rants with one another for well over a year, seven of us from around the country met during a spring weekend in Chicago in 2001.

We were a diverse group of women, having come from all over the country--some women were from cities, others hailed from rural areas and our backgrounds were equally as different, yet we shared one thing in common: the hope of getting pregnant.

Since we were linked by only one commonality, shortly after our meeting, the group slowly began to disband--with several women finally getting pregnant and others, myself included, quietly moving on either to grieve over our losses and failed attempts, or simply just to take a break from a very long, expensive and painful process. I managed to stay in contact with one or two of the women, but for the most part, I lost touch with the group.

While I've long given up trying to have a biological child, I no longer consider my efforts to have failed. If it hadn't been for the hardships Pa and I had faced during those dark years, we would never have welcomed Mr. Na into our lives. And even aside from being a very happy parent to the greatest kid in the world (smile), I learned so much about myself having endured my own little slice of hell. I realized, first and foremost, that there was so much more to life than that one, itty bitty aspect I had longed for. And as such, I began to really enjoy my life and do things I only dreamed of doing--like writing a book or running a marathon.

So the other day, I received an announcement from another old Infertility support group member that one of our other board mates had just published a book. And not just any old book, mind you, but an historical fiction novel that is set during WWII. I was amazed, not only of her success but also because during the time we knew one another, neither of us knew that the other was ever interested in writing historical fiction and since infertility was the twine that wove together our connection, we never really took the time to learn more about each other.

Once I learned of her success, I contacted Becky to congratulate her and we've since swapped a few e-mails, bringing eachother up to speed about our lives. Turns out that she's also teaching an historical fiction workshop through the University of Iowa this summer, something that I'd love to take.

Out of the seven of us who met up in Chicago, three finally got pregnant, two adopted children, and one fell out of touch with the rest of us, so I'm not sure what happened with her. But it's wonderful to hear that someone else within the group channeled all of that energy into something as wonderful as publishing a novel. She's a girl after my own heart!