Words by Candace Clark   | @infertilitystories | 

The Re-imagined Dream

I like to think I am an optimistic person. I don’t believe in fairy tales, happily ever after, mystical or fantastic stories and I certainly didn’t believe in miracles. After 3 miscarriages (6 if you count all the occurrences of blighted ovum) 9 attempts at IVF, 1 egg donor, 2 surgeries to remove fibroids; I was in a place where I just wanted to find a peaceful end to it all and say screw it to having a baby. I was done. Done with counting every day of the month, the pills, the shots, the patches, the tests, the transfers, the doctor appointments, the dreaded 2 week wait…most of all I was just done with hoping that it would all turn out and I would be pregnant. My infertility was unexplained. I could get pregnant with IVF but I couldn’t carry past the 1st trimester. It was starting to feel that every successful pregnancy test was merely a countdown until I miscarried. Infertility can crush hope. It crushed mine.

So there I was, bitter, angry, sad. So sad that it was palpable, It felt like I was walking around wearing my sadness as a coat. There was a heaviness in my every waking moment. The physical toll that loss can take on you mentally and physically was something that I had not been prepared for in trying to get pregnant.

My therapist suggested something out of the box.
She had referred several clients to a medical empath and had gotten back rave reviews. Apparently this empath was just very sensitive to medical issues that modern science may have had trouble diagnosing. I was going only because there was nothing I wasn’t willing to try on my quest to the impossible. I went half thinking it was going to be like those dogs you hear about that can sniff out cancer. I didn’t think it would be an afternoon that would change my life.

I met with the empath, a lovely woman who upon meeting me gave me the warmest hug. She took my hands, looked me directly in the eye and said, “I am so sorry for all your loss, I want you to know that you are the only one feeling this pain. All those souls felt so loved by you and they have moved on. Sometimes souls need just one moment and they are completely fulfilled.”

I broke down crying, just finally releasing all that had been built up inside of me for years at this point. The release of pain is jarring. A person can hold onto pain like a shield to block everything else out. The shield was down.
Over the course of the afternoon, she told me several things that she sensed. There was definitely a child coming to me, it just wouldn’t come through my body. I was never going to give birth but I was definitely going to be a mother. There was a soul waiting just for me. This soul only wanted me for a mother but was stuck waiting because it couldn’t come through my body.

I always think about that afternoon. I told my husband that night and he rolled his eyes. I know it may sound silly and strange and just a little bit kooky. What has stayed with me is that her words gave me a sense of peace and completion of a chapter in my life. She helped me let go and move on. I had to let go of the hope of ever carrying a child myself and that is a hard dream to die. She gave me a clarity and focus that I didn’t find anywhere else.


Getting pregnant was not the goal.
What was important to me was becoming a mother. All of a sudden I was open to the idea that there is more than one way to become a parent. Within a year, miraculously my husband and I welcomed our son through Open Adoption. The moment he was placed in my arms, I whispered. “I am sorry it took me so long, I’ve been waiting only for you too”.

-Candace Clark Trinchieri

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