I’m writing this letter knowing full well that you’ll never read it. It’s not that I wouldn’t have wanted to carry you in my womb, or that I wouldn’t want to go through those few difficult months of pregnancy again, or the ups and downs of childbirth, or because I wouldn’t have been ready to get up several times a night for months on end…
You will forever remain nothing more than a silhouette in my sweetest dreams because the government decided it so. You must be wondering how the government has the power to decide whether you’ll ever see the light of day. The most religious people might say that only God has the power to give life. Well, in the society in which I live, the government has, in part, taken on that power. When the current government chose to cut costs by eliminating the assisted reproduction program established by its predecessors, it decided for me that you would remain nothing more than an idea, an unattainable wish.
I understand that I am infertile for a reason unknown to doctors. I am just one among many. It’s certain that I am not dying, nor am I even suffering. I’m in good health, so it’s not considered that health insurance should cover my fertility treatments. Based on this reasoning, I understand that the government doesn’t view infertility as a medical condition. And yet…
It wasn’t easy to make this decision, but your dad and I agreed that we couldn’t pay for the treatments out of pocket with no guarantee of success. If only you knew how expensive it is. I’ll have to convince myself for the rest of my life that this was the right decision we made. I know I can’t complain, since I was lucky enough to have two beautiful, healthy children during the short time the program was active. I’m lucky, and I remind myself of that every time I imagine what color your hair would have been or when I hear you humming a song to me in my daydreams.
I think of all those other women—those “wanna-be mommies”—who won’t be able to afford all the treatments at private clinics either. All those women who have so much love to give and who will never know what I consider to be the greatest love of all. It saddens me to have to tell them that they may miss out on the most beautiful experience of their lives because the government is trying to save a few pennies.
Finally, my baby, I want you to know that even though you exist only in my mind, I hold onto the hope that even if the government didn’t want to give you to me, fate might decide otherwise…
By Valérie Louise Pesant