The brown-eyed 6-year-old with dark, curly hair and two missing front teeth had just finished painting for me a pond with goldfish.


What a gift that smile was.


I was never blessed with children biologically. After all sorts of costly tests and two failed pregnancies, docs could find nothing wrong other than I probably waited too long. I didn’t get married until I was 34.


That chapter in my life made me question a lot of things. Yes, I pitied myself. Got depressed. Felt inadequate.


Luckily, I have come far enough to realize I am not childless.


When you can’t have children of your own, well-meaning people are quick to tell you that there are many children in the world who need and/or want your love.


So true, but you’ve got to work through it to come to terms with nature’s limitations. We are hard-wired to procreate; not being able to dredges up all sorts of anxieties.


Indeed, there are many ways to satisfy those paternal and maternal instincts. One of my editors found her beautiful baby daughter in China. There’s Big Brothers Big Sisters, which matches up adults who mentor children and teens. Of course, most of us have friends or relatives who could always use a hand with baby sitting.


I am now divorced and, at present, adoption is not an option. For me, healing was a matter of opening my eyes and discovering the children who surround me.


I have an extraordinary niece and nephew, Jillian, 9, and Jeffrey, 8. (By the way, both of these treasures surprised my sister and her husband in their 40s. My proud-but-hilarious brother-in-law quipped “I hope they are out of diapers before I am in them.”)


Unfortunately for me, they are far away in Dayton, Ohio. But recently my niece and I are starting this Sunday tradition where we will take an hour and she will sing and tell me stories over the phone.


Last summer, half-pint 6-year-old triplets, Patrick, Rachel and Sarah, who were living at my townhouse complex, loved to stop by to visit my basset hound Barney. All three would talk in their sweet voices at once bouncing off the walls like sprites.


I would come home and find letters in crayon stuffed in my mail slot. They would leave me little presents, such as stickers and knickknacks.


I was stunned when I came home one day and found an envelope full of coins from Patrick, who emptied out his piggy bank. Who ever heard of a 6-year-old giving up his money? Of course, I gave it back, but how sweet was that?


Since the holidays, I have been blessed with visits from the sweet and lovable grandchildren of my new next door neighbors JoAnn and Larry. Besides Ashley, they include Brittany, Kailey and Jason.


I put them to work water-color painting at my dining-room table and they produced stacks of masterpieces, which I made into a collage. I have it at my work desk and I look at it often.


I can’t say I don’t get pangs of self-pity from time to time, but that collage is my latest reminder: If you love children, it is impossible to be childless.




Patricia Poist is a staff writer for the Living section. Write to her at: ppoist@lnpnews.com. blog comments powered by Disqus