"Your dream may look different than you expected."

Substack writer Beth L. Gainer shares her fertility and motherhood journey

Here’s the first photo I ever took of my daughter, the night we met. She cried herself to sleep. PHOTO CREDIT: Beth Gainer

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This is the first “I Grow Strong Again” submission by Substack writer

Beth L Gainer

. Beth generously offers to us the story of her path to motherhood, which was not what she imagined, wanted, or expected. Her loss of a marriage, chemotherapy that resulted in sterility, and a vanished dream of biological motherhood led her to find her daughter and reclaim a fulfilling life. Please check out her Substack, leave an affirming comment, and share her story with others you believe will be inspired by it.

I am still looking for future submissions. If you would like me to feature your story, please visit the Submissions page for detailed information.

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Take some time to consider what “I grow strong again” means in your life, and study the image of an oak tree stump with a sapling sprouting at its base. Reflect on what that image might symbolize for your story of resilience.

Literally speaking, the oak tree stump is me, who is strong as an oak tree in terms of resilience, persistence, and grit. I’ve had obstacles to realizing my dream, which is why I identify with the oak stump, which has been cut down significantly. The sapling is my daughter on a literal note, but the sapling also signifies hope that shines through despite obstacles. 

What does “I grow strong again” mean to you?

The statement “I grow strong again” means that at one time I was strong in going after my dream of starting a family, but then, along the journey of life, a huge setback occurred. Despite this setback, I found an alternate way to attain my dream and re-ignite my strength. 

Select one specific hurdle you’d like to focus on and explain a) what happened that was painful or hard, b) what altered or shifted for you, and c) where you are now. There should be a clear arc of change from incident to pivot to new direction.

During my marriage, I hoped to eventually have children. My husband and I tried to have children, but I miscarried. I was then diagnosed with breast cancer on the younger side. I was convinced that breast cancer would kill me, so my focus shifted to saving my life instead of pursuing parenthood. But I was anguished and temporarily lost hope that I wouldn’t be able to live out my dreams, and I slipped into the abyss of despair.

While my incredibly kind and wonderful oncologist worked diligently to save my life, he didn’t consider that living, for me, involved not just being alive, but realizing my dream of having children. Besides having had surgeries, I would have to undergo radiation and chemotherapy treatments. My oncologist did not mention the option of harvesting my eggs before chemotherapy, which is a treatment that can cause infertility. 

After I finished chemotherapy, I re-evaluated and recalibrated my life. My marriage had been failing, so my husband and I divorced, but I hung onto my dream of one day having children. However, my periods were slowing down and eventually stopped. I went to a fertility specialist, and she told me that medical tests revealed that I was now infertile, thanks to chemotherapy treatment. I didn’t know at the time that this was the beginning of full menopause, a true gut punch.

I grieved the loss of my fertility; I was grateful to be alive, but my hopes of having children had died. I felt angry at my oncologist for not considering, or even asking, whether I eventually wanted children. The medical system that saved my life didn’t consider my post-treatment quality of life. And, for me, quality of life included having a family.

After some intense grief and feeling sorry for myself, I recalibrated my life, and came to the understanding that if I didn’t have children, I’d still turn out fine, however empty I currently felt. I continued to teach college English, and being busy really helped distract me. I had realized my dream of being an English professor, but my dream of having children was over. 

Until it wasn’t.

A sea change had re-ignited my hope to have children. One day, I needed a substitute to teach my classes. The substitute and I got along well for years, and later that evening, I called to see how the day went. We chatted, and I mentioned that I was infertile and had desperately wanted children, but it was not to be. And she became a life-changing force for me. She told me that, as a single person, she adopted a baby.

Before our conversation, I had never even considered adoption. And I was shocked that one could be single and adopt a child. She gave me the name of her adoption agency.

As soon as my divorce was finalized, I contacted the agency and applied to adopt a baby girl from China, as it would only take one year of waiting before I’d get my baby. I had to go through rigorous interviews, background checks, and I had to collect massive amounts of paperwork, including proof of good health from my oncologist. This took grit, tenacity, and perseverance—and patience. It turned out that China started slowing down the number of international adoptions allowed, so the wait turned into four years.

Still, I kept myself busy during all that time, socializing with friends, oil painting, and learning Mandarin, never giving up my re-ignited hope of going to China for my baby. 

On July 19, 2009, in China, orphanage officials placed a crying 13-month-old into my arms. She sobbed herself to sleep in her crib, and I really got a good look at her after she fell asleep. She was so beautiful to me. 

My dream had come true, but the work was just beginning. She was hysterical for the first few days of our lives together and could not be comforted. Understandably, she was afraid of me, as I was a stranger to her, looking different than her original caregivers and speaking a foreign language.

After four days of hysterics, she looked at me, and the smiling and laughing had begun.

We finally formed a bond.

While motherhood was intense, I savored it because I knew that my dream of being a parent came painfully close to being extinguished. In fact, my travel group was one of my adoption agency’s last groups to adopt from China, as international adoptions from this country would be closed indefinitely.

Now I am the proud mom of a delightful 16-year-old young lady. The teenage years are tough sometimes, but I still have immense gratitude, for I know how close I came to not realizing my dream. I cherish our time together, and she feels comfortable enough in our relationship to confide in me. My life is fuller than I could ever have imagined.  

Back in her new home in the U.S. and well-adjusted to me and her surroundings, my daughter and I play around. PHOTO CREDIT: Judith Rhodes

Where did you imagine your life was headed before everything changed for you?

From the time I was a child, I dreamed of one day having children. I was looking forward to one day becoming a mom. As a young and healthy adult, I had always believed that if I treated my body right—exercise, eating healthy, avoiding drugs and alcohol, etc.—I could be healthy for years to come. I was wrong.

How has your perspective or worldview changed since this life event happened to you?

Life can change immediately, so don’t take life for granted. It sounds cliché but it’s true.

And even if things seem grim and impossible, there is reason to hope. 

What three insights or revelations would you like to share with others that you believe have universal application and resonance?

1. When things seem grim, there can be hope, even if you don’t yet see it. So don’t give up, even when setbacks occur.

2. Realizing one’s dream may look different than you ever expected, but be open to new possibilities. Despite hurdles, there are other ways to achieve your dreams.

3. Being alive is different from living. One can physically be alive, but life is not just about being alive; life is about contentment, self-actualization, and so much more.