After seminary I landed a coveted teaching position and not long after I became engaged. I was the world’s happiest kallah. I spent my waking hours daydreaming about my future home picturing myself in the role of wife and mother. My dreams were full of children born one after the next all smiling toothless or otherwise. I was the busy mommy lining them all up at the front door to greet their father as he came in from kollel.

We got married on a snowy December night. Blizzard notwithstanding ours was an outdoor chuppah. But I scarcely felt the cold as I fervently davened for shalom bayis health for my children to be yerei Shamayim. Did I think to daven for children? Of course I would have children! Just let them be holy and healthy oh please let them Hashem!

When a year passed with no baby on the horizon my mother gently suggested that perhaps I ought to see a doctor. I laughed. A year! What’s a year’s time in the all-consuming exciting life of a newlywed? She was certainly overreacting. But when our anniversary had long gone and most of my friends were already fresh mothers a niggling feeling led me to the phone. I booked an appointment.

The doctor’s response was similar to my own. It’s only a year. Not everyone has a baby right away. Relax.

I went home and waited. In the meantime an obvious gap began forming between me and the rest of the world. My friends discussed colic and teething while I desperately tried to veer the conversation to recipes and laundry. But who’s interested in recipes when there are adorable babies to discuss? Slowly to my horror people began escaping my company. I wasn’t sure which hurt more being avoided or being tiptoed around. Either way I nursed an aching pain that I hadn’t known existed. With my husband’s support I switched doctors and booked another appointment.

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