"We Want Your Story"

The organization that runs the music program where I'm a docent wants to collect their docents' "stories" for an advertising campaign. I wonder if they want mine . . .

I saw an advertisement to become a music docent the month after my second miscarriage. I was looking for alternative ways to bring children into my life, since creating them in the usual way wasn't working so well for me, so I signed up. The training was one of the best and worst experiences I have every had. Learning to teach music, pretending to be children, getting to actually *play* the games and sing the songs we'd be teaching, was wonderful! I had so much fun with that part of it. The problem was that my fellow trainees were all either mothers (or grandmothers) or bright-eyed naive young women with children of their own "sometime" in their future. I wasn't talking about my miscarriages freely. I was too afraid of getting overloaded with unsolicited advice. So I didn't make any connections, just felt bitter and envious of all these lucky mothers I had to spend several hours a week with for 2.5 months.

I made exactly one friend, and she was the docent coordinator. She was sympathetic, and having her know my situation helped me through some rough parts of getting started in the classroom. That was the other complication. The teacher of classroom I was assigned to was ill for several months, and I ended up having to work with 3 or 4 different subs during that time. Communications were sometimes difficult, and I never knew who to expect when I showed up. At least the teachers communicated with each other, so they usually knew to expect me, but one time, even that message didn't get through!

In the midst of all of this confusion, I had my third miscarriage and missed a few weeks of teaching due to that, and then having the flu. The kids were the reason I kept going. Teaching them was a joy, partly because I love music, but also because it gave me 30 minutes out of my week when I wasn't thinking about my infertility, when I felt worthwhile and valued. It also was a wonderful way for me to stay in touch with why I love children and want some of my own. When I see kids with their parents at the supermarket, I focus on the parents. I see the kids almost as possessions or status symbols that I don't have and they do. But when I am in the classroom, I see the children as the individuals they are. I got to know the children in my class. I tried to pay attention to each of them, to help the rowdy ones participate appropriately and the shy ones come out of their shells.

I was able to bring music to 20 children who might not have had it otherwise, and to see their smiling faces every week kept me going through the rough times. Now I've had a total of five miscarriages, and I'm hoping that new testing will yield new information to create a better treatment plan. I hope to stay pregnant the next time I try. But no matter what happens on my family building journey, I'm going to keep teaching music, because it brings a ray of sunshine into the darkness that is my current life.

I don't think that's the kind of story they are looking for. They want to hear about the music, and the cute things kids say and do. They want to inspire other people to become docents. But for me, the experience was so much more. It was a challenge and a lifeline all rolled into one. The music was a vehicle for me to interact with children in a scenario that was emotionally safe for *me*. And their request inspired me to tell my music docenting story, even if I don't end up telling it to them.