I was kneeling in the pew after Mass, reflecting on this blessing inside me when the urge to cry became very real. How many struggle for years for a healthy child growing inside them — to have what I have? There was a time at the start of my marriage where that unfounded fear: what if I can’t conceive? cropped up. It was silly, but very real to me and I felt like if I couldn’t well, then, it was unfair. I cried to my husband about my worries. He held me in his arms and told me I was likely being insane, but child or no child, it was God’s will and we could look into adopting later on if there was actually a problem. He cared of course, but like a man typically cares; it’s not usually as strong as the desire of a woman who has that inherent desire to be a mother, to nurture, to give life. He likely cared more for the sake of making me happy than to fill any emptiness he had himself inside him without a child to fill the gaps. Prompted by fears, even without healthcare due to my no