Category: Adoption

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Two Steps Back

So recently there was this really honest post that Duck put out in the blogiverse. It had to do about wanting to want to adopt. It’s one that apparently remained stuck in my mind, despite it being posted over two weeks ago.

I’m at the point in my life where I’ve really got to start figuring out what to do about adoption. I know it’s my next step, but yet every day there seems to be something that pops in my mind that puts me back another step or two. Especially these last four months.

First there was my Hubby’s grandmother. Then there was the news about another pregnancy for my SIL. And, of course, my Dad’s hospitalization.

And in between all these events, my good friend, Endometriosis decides to come back and nestle into my nice warm body. Oh, and shortly afterwards, Aunt Flo comes for the visit from H*LL. Nothing like emphasizing that I can’t get pregnant. It’s like an exclamation point (in this case, a “period”) at the end of me shouting “I am infertile.”

So yeah, like a said, a few steps back.

Not that I’m blaming any of these particular events for my recent train of thoughts. It’s more what I’ve somehow managed to have each separate event represent. (I over-analyze things, if you haven’t caught on by now.) SIL’s pregnancy? That’s easy … and obvious. Dad’s hospitalization? How precious and fragile life can be; and how things can change in the blink of an eye. Hubby’s grandma? How one’s life affects so many others … especially their kids and their grandkids, and so on and so on.

And all of this relates back to adoption and back to Duck‘s original post, how? Well, I honestly think that those going through IF need to fully resolve their issues of not being able to biologically produce their own child before they look to adoption.

At first, I thought I was there. I thought I could simply give up the notion of not being able to produce a biological child of mine. And when I talk about biological child … I’m strictly talking about a child that looks like a mixture of Hubby & me. One that might have certain features or personality traits or even habits similar to us. One who would know his or her family tree and complete health history.

But then there’s the other aspect of not being able to produce my own child. It’s the feeling of being pregnant. Of watching my belly grow. Of craving strange things or claiming that I need more ice cream or chocolate for “the baby.” Of experiencing the joy of a positive pregnancy test and sharing that moment with Hubby. Of seeing my baby’s heartbeat on an ultrasound. Of being the guest of honor at my very own baby shower. Of people rubbing my belly. Of strangers coming up to me and asking when I was due. Of touring the hospital’s birthing center. Of going through lamaze. Of hearing the cries of my baby after he or she was just delivered. Of holding him or her in my arms for the first time. Of breastfeeding. Of coming home from the hospital with my precious cargo and my Hubby standing right next to me.

All that and much much MUCH more. Probably more than anyone who has never experienced infertility could ever understand. Empathize, yes. Completely understand, no. But then if we’re also talking about walking in someone else’s shoe, I also wouldn’t understand what it was like to lose a child. Or worse, the love of my life.

In any case, I find myself suddenly back to where I was before January; knowing that adoption is our next step … but once again scared to move forward.

After all, to want to want to adopt is a big thing. And to do that means I could possibly have utterly and completely given up on that dream to become pregnant. And that’s a pretty damn scary thing.

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Brick Walls (Childhood Dreams, Pt 2)

Oh my … I never expected the responses and hits that my “Childhood Dreams” post about Ran.dy Pa.usch’s “Last Lecture” would stir. As of today, that post alone has had just under 100 hits. Next to my “Year of the Rat” post, that’s the most viewed entry I’ve had.

While I’m honestly not surprised that it’s been viewed that many times (after all, Ran.dy Pa.usch’s lecture is incredible … even if the one I posted was the shortened 10-minute version of the original lecture); I am surprised by one particular email/comment I got. (Click here to see the actual comment.)

Okay, so I have to admit that I originally thought someone was spamming me or pulling my leg. So I took my time in responding. And I probably wouldn’t have responded until I decided to do a little Google PI (as in“Magnum PI“… yeah, I know; stale reference) in which I found out that this particular person actually did work for one of the national TV networks.

So I responded back (the minute I found out that this wasn’t spam) telling her that, yes I was interested … but I guess I just didn’t know how my blog related to Ran.dy Pa.usch’s lecture, as my blog was primarily about my struggles through infertility. But … just as soon as I sent out the email, I received this response back:

Hi Emily,

Next Wednesday night, ABC is airing a one-hour Diane Sawyer special on Professor Pausch. We noticed that his lecture was inspirational to so many people and incidentally the effects of his words are visible all over the internet. Though your blog is about a completely different subject, there are a variety of bloggers and “vloggers” talking about Ran.dy Pa.usch’s lecture.

Initially I was hoping you could share your thoughts about Randy’s lecture on camera but plans have changed a bit here and we will not be doing anymore on-camera interviews. If you’re interested however, I invite you to create a sort of video blog in which you talk about the lecture and whether or not it has affected you in any way. Of course I understand if this is impossible but I thought I would throw the option out there. There’s always the possibility we would include a short clip in the special.

Please don’t hesitate to contact me with any questions.

Best regards,
Astrid

Aw shucks … I guess I missed my 15 minutes of fame. And while I can all hear you saying … “You should do a vlog! You should do a vlog!” To those of you that have met me IRL, I am not exactly the best person in front of a video camera … even if it is a clip of me just talking randomly into my iBook cam. For Pete’s sake … I babble enough when I write. What part of filming me babbling out loud makes for good video?! Uh … yeah. So no.

But that was just one reason why I was hesitant to do this. The other reason is that I confess that until today, I hadn’t even watched the whole 75 minute lecture (that’s still available here on you.tube, by the way). And after watching it today, I can tell you without a doubt that this lecture is In.Cred.Ible. I just found so much more inspiration in the original lecture that wasn’t even captured in the 10-minute Op.rah version.

And because work has been laying heavily on my mind lately, there were a lot of things I took out of this lecture that so relates to the whole work redesign thingy. Now … rather than go into great detail as to how it personally affects me and work (because somehow, I’m thinking it’s not such a good idea to do that here), these are the biggest nuggets I pulled out of this lecture:

  • Bosses: Respect authority while questioning it.
  • Have something to bring to the table; that way you’re always welcomed.
  • Be good at something; it makes you valuable.
  • Get the fundamentals down; otherwise the fancy stuff ain’t gonna work.
  • Don’t complain; just work harder.
  • Get a feedback loop on you and listen to it. The hardest part is not the criticism, it’s actually listening to it.
  • Apologize when you screw up. When you screw up and no one says anything to you any more, this means that they’ve given up on you.
  • Focus on others and not yourself.
  • Loyalty is a two-way street.
  • In order to get people to help you, you should always tell the truth, be earnest and show gratitude to those who help you.
  • Find the best in everybody; no mater how long you have to wait for them to show it. You might have to have to wait a long time … sometimes years … but people will eventually show you their good side.
  • You can’t get there (achieving your dream) alone, believe in karma. When you do the right thing, good stuff has a way of happening.
  • Sometimes things are just what they are. These are the cards that are dealt; we just got to know how to play the hand.
  • Experience is what you get when you didn’t get what you wanted.
  • Never lose the child-like wonder; it’s just too important. It’s what drives us.

Yes … and this isn’t even all of those nuggets Ran.dy Pa.usch threw out there. There was so much more. But since the primary focus of this blog is about infertility, I do want to bring up that many of what he says can certainly apply to the struggles we face with infertility.

Okay, so the whole “Don’t complain; just work harder” and “Focus on others and not yourself” seems like a crock when we all know how much we’ve worked at and have thought of others while still trying to achieve our goal of producing our biological child. But there are other nuggets that do apply. Take for instance the whole “Get the fundamentals down; otherwise the fancy stuff ain’t gonna work.” Hello?! Think of the fancy stuff as IVF and IUI. H*ll yeah, you’ve gotta know what the basics are in order to find the “optimum conditions” to get knocked up.

Throughout the lecture, there was this analogy of a “bric.k wa.ll” that Professor Pausch kept referring back to. He verbalized that bric.k wa.lls are there for a reason. And that reason is to let us prove how badly we want to achieve our dreams. They’re also there to stop those who don’t want things badly enough; these are the people that the bric.k wa.ll is trying to keep out. The bric.k wa.ll lets us show how dedicated we are to our dreams.

The “Bric.k Wa.ll” analogy is the one thing in particular that I feel can best relate to and impact those struggling with infertility. Nothing like coming up against a bric.k wa.ll when one finds out that they’re having difficulty trying to conceive a baby. Nothing like trying to overcome any obstacle to to try to achieve that dream. Nothing like showing dedication to this dream by subjecting ourselves to many blood draws and needle sticks and test after test just to get a positive pregnancy test. Nothing like doling out boocoo bucks in order to pay for all these treatments; many of whom don’t even have a health insurance plan that will pay for it. And that’s just the aspect of trying to get pregnant.

Then there’s the other aspect of adoption. Again, nothing like climbing over that bric.k wa.ll by subjecting ourselves to home studies in order to determine if we’re worthy to adopt a child. Nothing like coming upon that bric.k wa.ll by putting ourselves out there to potential birth mothers or countries, as if to advertise ourselves like a singles ad:

“Mid 30’s couple seeks an open relationship with a birth mother who is willing to let couple raise her baby as their own.”

Or better yet, a want ad:

“Happily married couple looking for a country that is willing to provide a child to raise in the USA (infant preferred, but other situations negotiable).”

And of course, nothing else says dedication by coming up with creative ways to finance the adoption and then place the money up front, trusting that things will work out.

There is currently a movie out right now called “Run Fatboy Run“ starring Simon Pegg (of “Shaun of the Dead” fame). In the movie there is another analogy of the “Bric.k Wa.ll.” It refers to the point during a marathon when a runner figuratively comes up against the a bric.k wa.ll. It’s the point when the runner is both physically and mentally exhausted. When the way a shoe is tied or the way the shorts rub up against the skin is shear agony. Where every forward step taken feels like a million tiny scalpels are tearing you to shreds. It’s at that time the runner has to decide if he or she is mentally capable of forging through the bric.k wa.ll … or too weak to continue forward.

When it comes to that childhood dream I mentioned in my previous post … you know, the one about being able to nurture my child and to encourage him/her to dream big … I am currently facing that “Bric.k Wa.ll.” I have gone through the medical aspect of infertility; the work-up, the almost-daily blood tests, the ultrasounds. All that plus the failed IVF attempt. Then there were (and currently are) all the pregnancies of friends and family over the past ten years that I’ve had to face head on. And still, I have nothing to show for the miles I’ve already ran in this marathon. Talk about banging your head against a bric.k wa.ll.

So here I stand in front of this “Bric.k Wa.ll” (where I’ve been for the past ten years), knowing what I need to do next. And here I am trying to gather enough strength, both mentally and physically, to plow through (or climb over) that d*mn wall. If that isn’t dedication to my dream, then I don’t know what is.

One last nugget of inspiration from Ran.dy Pa.usch before I finally end this incredibly long post (I applaud anyone that has gotten to this point) …

“Don’t bail on your dream. The best gold is at the bottom of barrels of crap.”

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Me, Bartleby and Ta.rzan

Hubby & I spent the night on the west side of the state Saturday night. We were out that way specifically to catch the theater debut of one of our friends. (I’d tell you more about the play, but “I’d prefer not to.” But I do have to say, I do think our friend did a wonderful job.)

We’ve been to this town before (the most recent to see the Cowboy Junkies about five years ago), but never got a chance to really check the place out. But since our friend lives out there, we managed to get the “grand tour” of the area which included a trip to a local brewery that produces the only beer my alcohol-allergic / beer-loathing Hubby will drink. Seriously didn’t know that this brew was locally-produced.

Anyway, we ended up staying the night because the play didn’t even start until 11:00 pm. And then afterwards, well … of course we ended up going out and grabbing a drink afterwards. So we booked a room at one of the local hotels just to rest our heads for the night. After all, it’s a decent 3-hour ride back to Detroit and we weren’t about to make that drive after being out until 2 am. (Okay, maybe we would … if we were still college-age!)

The next morning, I turned on the TV in the room (while Hubby started to get ready) and started flipping through the channels. As I flipped, I stumbled onto the Dis.ney channel that happened to be showing the animated film, “Ta.rzan.” I don’t know what possessed me to keep the TV on that channel, but I suddenly found myself sucked into the movie.

There’s something about Dis.ney animated movies that I really enjoy. Especially the ones that were produced from “The Little Mermaid” onward. OK, so there were a few that I could care less about (hmmm … “Emperor’s New Groove”?), but overall I’ve liked their films.

In fact when planning our wedding, Hubby & I created a “Three Wishes” theme, including designing our own invitations (which, back in 1996, was definitely not a common thing to do) based on the movie “Aladdin.” It started with a porcelain figure of Jasmine & Aladdin that Hubby gave me when we were still dating which we thought would make a great cake topper. Then we chose “A Whole New World” from “Aladdin” as our first dance and then gave little ceramic genie lamps as our favors. Yes, I guess you can say we had our own version of our “Dis.ney Fairy Tale” wedding.

But I digress … What struck me about watching “Ta.rzan” was the whole “Boy being raised by a gorilla” thing. Specifically the part where Ta.rzan found out how he came to live with and grow up with a pack of gorillas. Now, I’m assuming that most people have seen this movie or are familiar with the story. However, if you haven’t and you have the urge to read the book / watch the movie … then I suggest you skip the next two paragraphs.

*
If you recall that in the movie (because the movie actually does vary a bit from the book by Edward Burroughs), Ta.rzan was brought up by a pack of gorillas and was always regarded by the other gorillas as different. This, however, didn’t matter to his “Mom,” Kala, who brought him up as her own, after losing her own baby gorilla by the same leopard who killed Ta.rzan’s parents. When Ta.rzan stumbles upon Jane and is surprised that there is a person who looks similar to him, he tries to learn from Jane (and her father) as much as he can about his “kind.” Ultimately, Jane is supposed to be leaving back for “merry olde England.” As Ta.rzan had ultimately fallen in love with her, he has to make the decision to either remain behind or go with Jane.

Before Ta.rzan’s decision is made, Kala tells him the truth about his parents and how, after her own son died, she raised him as if he was her own child. After he makes his decision to follow Jane, he turns to Kala and tells her that she will always be his mom.
*

Uh, yeah … and that’s where the tears started flowing. (Thank God Hubby was in the shower at that point!) I kept thinking that if I was Kala, I would would be absolutely heartbroken. Proud of him, but utterly heartbroken for myself.

First of all, it’s the whole “mother who loses her own biological child” thing. How can that not relate to how I’m feeling? Okay, so I never was able to get pregnant on my own and have never physically lost a pregnancy. Or worse, a baby. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have the right to grieve about not being able to have my own biological baby. And how about those that have experienced failed IVF’s alongside with me? Or those that have experienced ectopic pregnancies or miscarriages? Those are all losses.

And then there’s the whole “being raised by someone that didn’t give birth to you” issue. Uh … that would totally relate to adoption. I know that my journey through infertility has taken me down the adoption path. And I know that every day I am one step closer to becoming just as strong as Kala wanting to raise a child that isn’t biologically part of me.

I know that adoption is my fate and once I have my child, I will be so totally, utterly and unconditionally in love with him/her. BUT … I can’t help but think that somehow, somewhere down the adoption path I will truly start to freak out about the possibility that this child might not love me or feel that the love he/she has for me is not as strong as it would be if I were his/her biological mother.

Huhm … I just realized that perhaps my child would probably think the same of the love that I would have for him/her. He/She could be thinking … “Does she love me as if I were born from her womb?” Well, the answer to that is yes. As I’ve never been able to experience pregnancy, I guess I wouldn’t know the difference between loving a child that is biologically mine or loving one that was brought into our family through adoption. So my future son or daughter … I want to let you know this right now: I will love you, because … to me, you are my own child.

Damn Dis.ney … why must you always produce movies about orphaned heroes or heroines that overcome adversity. Do you purposely peer into my heart and see which one of those heart-strings (or better yet, my apron strings) to pull?!

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Open-Faced Sandwich

I’m back at the same hospital where my Dad had his surgery. Except this time, it’s to take my Mom to her previously scheduled routine outpatient procedure. As my Dad still cannot drive and my Mom’s procedure requires that she has a companion to take her to and from her appointment, I volunteered to take her.

And as I’m sitting in the waiting room (just picture my hair in piggy-tails, by the way … hah!), I’m looking around to see other folk waiting for their loved ones to come out. Most of those are men and women who look like they’re in their late-40’s or early 50’s, and I was expecting that they would be waiting for their spouses. So imagine my surprise when I’m seeing most of the patients being discharged are older … and most likely my fellow waiting room companions’ parents.

And then I realized … that with this appointment, I’ve been officially “inducted” into the sandwich generation.

Except my parents aren’t, what I consider, “elderly.” (Hey, other than my Dad’s lengthy hospitalization and now subsequent follow-up appointments, both of my parents are otherwise pretty active.) Plus, I’m not exactly in my late 40’s or even my early 50’s.

And I’m not exactly “sandwiched” either. Because technically, being “sandwiched” means being placed in the middle of something. And the term “Sandwich Generation” implies that a person who fits this category is caring for both their parents AND their children.

As I am currently childless, I guess this really means I’m part of the “Open-Faced Sandwich Generation.” And to be completely honest … being childless and growing old has always been a concern for me.

Hubby & I have this longstanding joke about Senior Apartments or Assisted Livings that started when I first graduated from college and was looking at moving out of my parents’ house. (I must add that we were just newly engaged at that time.) He pointed to this one set of apartments and suggested that we check them out … not knowing that they were actually Senior Apartments.

From then, any senior apartment and assisted living we’d drive by we would always say, “What about those ones?” And the response would always be, “Nah, it’s not close enough to a movie theater or a library.” That’s because we always say that when we retire, all we want to do is watch movies and read. But the truth is, moving into those type of places could certainly be in our future.

Not that I expect to remain childless (I will adopt, damnit!), but if Hubby & I chose to remain childless … who would be that person to take care of us if we were too frail to take care of one another? Who would drive us to our appointments if we weren’t able to do it ourselves? Who would be No. 1 on our speed dial? Who would be that “Emergency Contact” person on our medical records? I couldn’t very well expect our nephew (or any of our future nieces and nephews) to do that … they’d have their own set of parents to worry about.

I must add here that even if … or rather when … we have children, I would never expect them to take complete care and responsibility of us. We’re waaay too much of an independent-minded and problem-solving couple by nature. And hell … as a Nurse Case Manager, these are the things I’m trained and certified to help problem-solve with the population I serve.

Regardless, this is a concern. And a valid one at that. And it’s yet another thing (along with possibly not ever being a “Mother of the Bride/Groom“) that the other 80% of women not experiencing infertility wouldn’t necessarily have to think about. At least not yet.

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Blogiversary

Thanks AGAIN for everyone’s well wishes for my Dad’s speedy recovery. I am so incredibly grateful for all the blove (blog love) I’ve received. I will update you on my Dad’s condition in another post, but today I figured I’d blog about something else.

I just got done reading BabyBound‘s latest post, and it reminded me that a year ago this month is when I started blogging. Okay, so officially it’s not until March 17th but … whatever.

Anyhoo … the reason BabyBound’s post reminded me of my blogiversary was because she was talking about the reason why she started her blog. And what has transpired (or hasn’t transpired) since taking a break from fertility treatments.

For me, the reason I started this blog was to find an outlet to express how frustrated I was with my infertility. At this time last year, I was going through quite a bit of angst and frustration. Shall we recap? Yeah, why not.

  1. Mid-March would be the 3rd anniversary of my one (and only) failed attempt at IVF. Since then, I had not done anything active to pursue further infertility treatments. Nor was I moving forward in any direction towards adoption. It terrified me to move forward (and in some ways, it still does today).
  2. My SIL, who had just gotten remarried less than a year ago at that time, was already 5 months pregnant. And, of course, after trying for well-over 10 years to start our own family, I fell into a deep dark abyss of feeling like shit.
  3. Same SIL found out just two weeks prior that her baby was showing signs of abnormalities (US was indicative of a cleft lip and omphalocele) and of course, I was feeling guilty that I probably caused it by all my horrible feelings of jealousy and anger.
  4. The slimmest of slim possibilities of a quick and painless Philippine adoption was quickly and ceremoniously stripped away. (Come to think of it, I don’t think I even blogged about that. Hmmm … maybe a post for another time.)

So yeah … I think I had enough to vent about and just had to find an outlet for it all. And hence, Apron Strings for Emily was born.

A year later, I’m still writing. And I’ve enjoyed writing. It’s given me an opportunity to share and exchange information and emotions with people that I’ve never met IRL (in real life). And even those IRL people that do read my blog, it’s an opportunity for them to read exactly what I’m going through. Because in my real life, I’m not good at showing my real emotions.

And a year later, this is what’s going on in relation to the above-mentioned recaps:

  1. Yep; it will be the 4th anniversary of our IVF attempt. I’m still saddened by it, but the grief has lessened considerably since last year. I still have no desire to pursue any further IF treatments, but instead am now dealing with the return of some unfriendly and unwanted GYN issues.
  2. My SIL remained pregnant and in May (at 31 weeks), prematurely delivered Liam. In his short life (he lived only 4 months), he touched all of our lives with his beautiful eyes and incredible strength.
  3. Same SIL announced this past January that she is once again pregnant (and due in August). Yes, it still hurts. No I didn’t fall into that abyss again. I’m dealing with it the best I can , which is to accept it for what it is. I do have to add that this time around, SIL has been wonderfully conscious about how her pregnancy affects me … and for that I am grateful.
  4. Adoption. Yes, this is our next step and I’m actively taking baby steps to get there. I’m still quite overwhelmed, but taking even just these little steps is more than I have taken in the four years since our failed IVF.

So, if you’ve kept reading to the end of this post … I applaud you. And I thank you. Thanks for being the ears (or in this case, the eyes) that I’ve needed to get past the most difficult times in my life this past year. I’ve learned that I am not alone in feeling the way I do. I’ve learned that others also share the same warmth, compassion and empathy that I have. I’ve learned that I am a much stronger person that I give myself credit for. I’ve learned that my husband continues to be and will always be my best friend in the world. And I’ve learned that blogging is therapeutic for my soul.

Happy Blogiversary to me!!