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?

Pity Party

(names have been changed to protect the innocent)

dutchkid: “Mama! Look! There’s Daniel!”

me: (waves to Daniel)

dutchkid: “And that’s Daniel’s big sister.  (pause) I’m not a sister, I’m a big girl.”

And then my heart broke into a thousand pieces as I was walking through the preschool parking lot.

Just feeling sorry for myself today.  I have a headache that won’t be shaken.   The questions, both my own and from others have started again.  I have found myself  in situations where it was implied (ok, maybe I read into it) that one child just didn’t count.  One child doesn’t represent enough hardship to win in the great motherhood badge of honor/pissing contest.

I was pretty successful at keeping our failed frozen embryo transfer buried somewhere in the back of my mind until  just recently.  Since the dutchkid’s birth, I haven’t seriously considered doing IVF all over again.  I still don’t think we will.  But I still wish for another child.

I suppose it’s normal for these feelings to wax and wane.   I know I sound like a broken record, but I always DO feel so lucky that I have my daughter at all, and some days I am happy with our little family of 3… and some days innocent comments or unintentionally thoughtless ones  just make me want to cry my eyes out.   I don’t know how parents who choose to only have one child deal with this.   So often people want some sort of explanation as to why we only have one, and I think to myself, “why the hell should I have to justify this to you when I didn’t choose it?“

I have this unshakable feeling that I won’t have another biological child, and I am slowly coming to terms with that.  But what I really want to know is when my feelings won’t be so raw about it.  Does it ever go away?

The best-laid plans…

Why is it that some people can actually plan out their life and watch it unfold exactly as they wanted?

I don’t understand this. My life very rarely turns out according to plan.

Nothing irritates me more than when I hear people talk in such certain terms about their future and then lo and behold, it happens. In particular this pisses me off when talking about having children. I’m bitter, ok, I’m aware of this.

I found out today that a sister-in-law of mine, who irritates me as a general rule anyway, is pregnant again. I’m mad because she’s always been so obnoxiously smug in saying how many kids they’re going to have, and when, and what their names will be and la-de-dah. And it’s not fair that I can’t have that too. I was expecting her pregnancy, I daresay waiting for it, even. So I should be thankful it didn’t have that element of surprise that catches me off guard, but I’m not.

Does it just look like life for those people is going according to plan? That would make me feel better, because I’m all caught up in wanting to make sure that the crap gets evenly dealt around here. Tonight I certainly feel like I’ve gotten my fair share.

I will feel better tomorrow, when I’ve had time to process this and can think about it rationally. I know I will.

(And for those of you who read this who probably will tell me someday soon that you’re pregnant, please know that this wasn’t about you at all, and I will be happy for you, as I am for almost everybody….except those with the perfectly laid plans).

The elephant in the room

Sometimes when I least expect it, the pain of infertility really sneaks up on me. It reminds me of when I was a kid and my younger brother just walked up behind me and whacked me on the head with a Tonka truck (you know, the big metal yellow kind?). I haven’t written much about it since our unsuccessful FET several months ago. I’m pretty good at ignoring it and we’ve been so busy with our move that I haven’t had much time to dwell on it.

It’s the oddity of the triggers that bothers me. It is almost never what I expect it to be, probably because I steel myself for those moments… like when someone close to me is pregnant again, or I know someone is trying. It’s random strangers in the grocery store, or realizing that we are the only family with one child in a group.

I don’t mean to write about it to garner pity. I have a wonderfully blessed and full life, and an amazing daughter who I literally treasure every day. I just had one of those moments today and the ferocity of the pain surprised me. It’s part of life, and this pain happens to be my own. Over the past few months I have struggled to come to terms with the reality that I may never have the second child I long for… only to realize that the pain has changed me for the good. I am a better parent and more focused on whatever God has in mind for my life, regardless of what I had planned. C.S. Lewis once wrote, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” I have experienced the truth in that. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much.

At a loss

I’ve been sitting here for awhile now trying to sort out my thoughts. But I give up. I was going to try to write something eloquent about how I feel but I don’t have it in me today.

I had my blood drawn this morning and I am not pregnant. My embryos did not survive.

Mostly I feel like I’m walking around in some sort of fog. Thinking about random nonsense like how I should make a list of all the things I can do now that I won’t be having a baby this year, or how I should get rid of all of the baby stuff and maternity clothes I’ve been hanging onto.

It feels final. I have not been on any sort of contraception for over 7 years, and the only time I have ever gotten pregnant was with in vitro. I am rapidly getting too old for that “miracle natural baby” crap. My mom made me laugh today, bless her, she said I would probably get pregnant again someday when the dutchkid is 14. Yeah. That would be my luck.

The hardest part is readjusting my idea of what my life was going to look like. I had foolishly allowed myself to envision the rest of this year being pregnant, and now that I’m not going to be I have to revise that. We had been talking about getting a larger vehicle that we now won’t need. I have to embrace the idea that my daughter will be an only child. Which makes me kick myself that I didn’t treasure even more fully every moment of her babyhood. I wish I would have known when I was pregnant that I would never get to experience that again.

Well, I wish a lot of things.

This is it

Tomorrow we will get on a plane.

After several setbacks and episodes where we thought we might have to call it off, we are headed back to the specialist who made the dutchkid possible. We are going to attempt to use the 2 remaining embryos that we stored from our last IVF attempt.

I am strangely calm. Even though the thought of my daughter not ever having the fun and exasperation of a sibling makes me cry sometimes. Even though I worry that I or my dh will someday be a burden when we are old, since she will be the only one to care for us. Even though I sometimes entertain the morbid thoughts of what will I do if something should happen to her (anticipatory grief isn’t only for deployments I’ve discovered), I am a model of serenity. At least for today. Maybe it’s the medication, although usually it just makes me feel like I have that absent-minded pregnant brain, without the pregnant.

It has become a new lesson in trust. Whether I like it or not, God is the only one in control of this situation (it makes me glad I am a believer, I would have far less trust in “fate”). I am faced with the reality of putting my money where my mouth is… that I really will be ok with my daughter being an only child. We have decided not to go through the IVF process again. My dh is not open to adoption, at least at this point in time.

Anticipation, hope and desperation all rolled up together. I am a little worried that in taking a small vacation while we are there that I will have too much time to think. But for now I am consumed with packing and in the getting there, and seeing friends we’ve missed. Since the laptop died I don’t know that I’ll be able to write until we’re home. I’ll let you know how I am when we get back.

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!