The Community Boat?

Within the very small section of the new unit my dh is in, we have come across two families who are involved with adoption. One family is almost through the process. They are getting ready to bring their child home, hopefully within the next 6 months. The other family… well the other family is so much like us it’s frightening. One child. Fertility issues. Unsure if it’s the right path for them.

Adoption is everywhere I look lately, in things I read, people I talk to. I question if whether this is a sign, or whether I’m finding things because I’m looking for a sign. And quite honestly, I’m struggling. Currently I have a self imposed ban on talking about adoption related stuff with my dh… mostly because I know that it will push him, and I don’t want him to be pushed. And partly because I know that he just needs time. Maybe I do, too.

I think if it were up to me, today at this very minute, I would go forward. But I am the queen of second guesses. I wish I could say that I always knew I would adopt, as many parents can. I can’t help but wonder if the pull I feel is negated by the reality that if we could have biological children without any trouble at all, I doubt very much we would be thinking about adoption. Does that make us “less worthy” than parents who choose to adopt just because they want to? And if this is indeed what God is calling our family to do, why do I have doubts?

Even when I bypass those sticky questions and just start looking at the process, I am overwhelmed by the decisions that must be made. Domestic or international? If domestic, would we want closed or semi-open or completely open? If international, which country? Reading websites alone is daunting. As much as I love the information highway, it’s like drinking from a fire hose.

Clarity seems elusive lately.

And then pigs flew.

In an interesting turn of events, my dh and I actually sat down last night and talked about adoption (!) And it wasn’t just ME talking about it, it was an actual conversation.

Ok, ok, let me back up because I don’t know that I’ve ever written about the subject here. Ever since our failed FET, I’ve started to feel more and more pulled toward adopting. However, my dh hasn’t felt the same way. I don’t want to get into too many details about why that is, but mostly it’s because an adopted child really caused some heartache in his family.

As time has passed, though, I think it’s sinking in that it is not likely that we will have another biological child. And it really gets to him to think about the dutchkid being an only child. It’s actually been something he mumbles to himself frequently around our house, “She needs a brother or a sister!” (It’s hard for me not to take offense when he says that, although I know very well he doesn’t intend to hurt my feelings).

We aren’t even anywhere near making a decision, or even starting the process. It will likely have to wait until after this next deployment. But the fact that he even talked about it? A huge step. Huge. Honestly I wasn’t sure this day would ever come, I’ve sort of been mentally planning out my future as the mom of one. How is it that one conversation suddenly changes the shape of your future?

Inadvertent

I don’t know why it is that I always have stories about the commissary.  Although I did have a staff person ask me if I was there every day (Um, you think I would come here for fun?!).  I suppose other people go to the commissary without incident, but then again they must have really boring blogs. 

Today started as a good trip, even though it started pouring rain just as I was about the put the dutchkid in the car. That’s ok, we don’t mind getting wet.  It made for fewer crowds. We cruised through in less than 45 minutes. As a treat for being so cooperative (if a bit loud – she had been serenading passersby), I let her pick out some animal crackers in the cute red box.

When we loaded into the car to head home, I realized that I forgot to save them out and they were in the trunk with the rest of the groceries. So after I buckled the dutchkid in, I told her I would go look. “Oh no, Mama, they’re right here!” she says proudly, opening up the little play purse she had with her. Sure enough, there they are.

My girl, a thief at 3. 

I even talk to her frequently about how we always pay the nice lady before we open or eat anything from a store!  I was so tempted, standing there in the rain, to just get in the car and take her and the stolen goods home.  But I couldn’t do it.  After the whole fiasco with the birthday cake!?  I’m lucky they even let me IN the commissary. We went back inside.  Paid for the crackers, all $1.10 of them.  She must take after her daddy.

Ho hum

I feel that lately I’ve not had anything much to write about, just the mundane things of life happening for the most part. I’m counting the days until we can get out of here, I’m so anxious to just get started at the new place. I don’t think we’ve ever had this much notice for a move before, and I think now I actually prefer the Army pulling the rug out from under me. But we do have some things going on. Things I wouldn’t normally write about because they are very personal, and fall dangerously close to the “TMI” category (and I have never had the desire to make you readers go: “Ewww”)

When I began blogging, I debated on whether or not to write about certain aspects of my life. My dh requested that some things remain private, mostly for safety reasons. I try to honor his requests, although since he’s not a reader I’m on the honor system (and I like it that way, actually). Since this is more about me, and I know that others I read in the blogosphere are struggling as well, I decided I would write about it.

We are embarking on the journey to try to have a second child. My precious daughter was born after nearly 4 years of trying to have a child. She is the result of what is called “Assisted Reproductive Technology” or ART. Those years were the most difficult of my life, and at that time I told almost no one. I did that mostly out of self preservation. It’s very hard to have well meaning people ask you repeatedly “how it’s going”. Almost as bad as nosy people asking “When are you going have kids?” when you have been subjecting yourself to all manner of drugs, procedures and emotional turmoil for years in the attempt.

It’s odd how my daughter turning 2 began a different kind of expectation. “When are you going to have another baby?”. I used to never know how to respond to those nosy questions. But now? I have become braver and I enjoy making people squirm. You would be amazed how the simple statement, “We probably won’t be able to have any more,” shuts them right up.

But what I don’t tell them is that we’re working on that. Over the past few months, even thinking about starting this process again brought back so many emotions I had forgotten (or maybe just repressed). Pregnant people are starting to bother me again. It feels official, as I am to start some medication today. The journey will be different this time, mostly because I still feel like my daughter is more than I ever deserved in the first place. A second child is almost more than I can hope for, but I’m willing to try. Buckle up, because here we go!