a blog by Suzanne Rico, July 3, 2012
A decade ago, I began mentoring a girl from South Central Los Angeles. She was 9 years old, a shy kid who rarely smiled and had more distrust of the world in her big brown eyes than hope for it. By giving her what little time I had in my life, I hoped to change hers. What I did not expect was to gain the daughter I’ve always wanted.
Diana was about 11 when I began my struggle with infertility. With five brothers and sisters, the idea that a woman could have trouble reproducing was baffling. Still, she listened with ever-increasing interest to my talk of babies — and when, after a year of back-to-back miscarriages, I told her I was pregnant, she hugged me with true joy. I was so thrilled to be past the troublesome first trimester, I forgot to be disappointed I was carrying a boy — and not the girl I’d hoped for.