Not so "sweet" emotion

Emotionally, these last several months have been crazy.  I don't think I realized how many emotions one person could experience in one day until these last couple of months.  I have been slack at writing on my blog since July as we have been trying to prepare our lives and our home for the next hopeful step in our lives....foster care and adoption.  While we know where we want to be headed, so much of the process is in the hands of someone else other than us and God.  It's currently in the hands of someone else who makes the decision if we are fit enough to have a foster child in our home...if our home is good enough...if we are good enough.  The waiting sucks.

 

I know that whether I was personally pregnant or whether we are choosing to adopt, there will always be a sense of waiting that must occur.   At least if I could have been pregnant I would know that usually the gestational time doesn't go past nine months.  With our foster care and adoption process we don't have that option.  What if the child that we fall in love with ends up not being able to become our child legally?  What is the judge chooses a family member that is a total stranger to that child over us?  What if we don't get approved?  We are warned to guard our hearts but how do you guard your heart when a family is everything you ever wanted? 

 

The wait gets harder.  Every time I hear of another person becoming pregnant either on Facebook or in my life, it makes the wait longer and the fear that we won't be good enough to be foster parents (or even just a parent) even greater.  Emotionally it drains me.  The future is uncertain...how can I plan for anything, hope for anything, when we are in the wait.  Every ring of the phone or piece of mail that comes to our mailbox is anticipated to be some sort of news on this path of ours to become a family but usually ends with disappointed as we continue to wait.

 

Emotions run high now with anger as I watch so many young pregnant women who are so complacent about what it is that they carry inside of them.  Has our society lost site of the fact that the act of conceiving a child is really a miracle?  Especially when statistically that egg and sperm have such a small window of opportunity to meet and actually join together and then the further complication of making it to the uterus where it has to implant into the wall.  It truly is a miracle.  In my eyes I would do everything to assure that the miracle I would be lucky enough to have (if only I was lucky enough) inside me was cared for in such a way that I wouldn't put it at risk for disease, developmental delays, or even the risk of death.  Why don't these pregnant women who smoke and drink and abuse their bodies in other ways during their pregnancies not care about that miracle?  Emotionally I want to scream.

 

I know that there would be fear irregardless of whether I was carrying a child of my own of the process we are currently going through.  I guess that is where hope comes into play.  I won't stop believing in miracles.  It has gotten us this far.  When I feel like giving in and giving up I continue to look at the silicone bracelet I wear that says BELIEVE IN MIRACLES.  Maybe our miracle will still come...whether adopted or conceived on our own.  I just know that when I look into the eyes of the child we hope to have as ours someday and hear that child call me Mommy or my husband Daddy, that I believe a little hard and hold on stronger to hope.

 

If you are in the same boat, don't give up.  Keep believing and keep praying.

Remembering

As I glanced at the last few posts that I wrote on this blog, I realized that I hadn't written in over a month.  Our lives have been filled with happiness and a variety of other emotions as we have been preparing for the dreaded Home Study in order to get our licensure to be Foster parents. With our goal of having a family our focus right now we have begun to rid our home of the things that bogged us down.  I mean, really...so many of us want to lose weight and make other changes in our life but never get to it until we are forced to for some reason, right?  For us it was the collection of 9+ years of clutter and old memories that really aren't even memories anymore as we had forgotten why we even kept something from that 9 years ago.  Regardless of what it is we have to declutter our live in order to make room for new memories and room for a child.  So why then do I hold on to the old feelings of frustration and failure as I look at my life and my inability to conceive?  Why can't I rid that in my life?

 

I was re reminded of the pain of infertility and my own challenges and failings in my life with the announcement of yet another person I know finding out that they were pregnant...without even trying.  I have tried for so long.  I have let go and said "if it happens, it happens," and I have even resolved to the idea that a foster or adopted child would still be my child irregardless.  However, I still remember the feelings and the pain of my infertility.  I remember the pain when someone else who has struggled from infertility announces their pregnancy and then proceeds to talk about the wonderfulness of pregnancy for 9 months.  The wonderfulness that I will never experience.  I remember the pain when my cycle goes from being somewhat normalized for several months to now being nearly 50 days in, hopeful that maybe I will see a plus sign this month only for the hopes to be dashed with test after test coming back negative.  I remember what it feels like to feel all along once again...even though I know there are people out there on my friends list or even followers of this blog that are going through the same thing or similar experiences as me.  I remember as I try to maintain intimacy with my husband how these moments still will be unfruitful and we will not multiply.  I remember it all.

 

It was just over a year ago that I first started this blog.  I am proud of where it has gone and I hope that it continues to keep growing and going forward.  As I read back on some of my past blogs I remember the emotion, the stories, the events even that prompted those posts. These memories I will not clear from my life.  They are part of my life that I can't toss away.  I recall most recently being asked on the Foster Care Licensure Family inventory a question regarding infertility that asked how we had dealt with infertility is that was an issue.  It even hinted to the idea that they wanted to know how we had "gotten over" the issue or resolved it.  As I sat and thought about it I came to the conclusion that you never truly get over infertility.  It sticks with you the rest of your life...regardless if you are trying for your first, your second, or your third.  Infertility is a horrible thing regardless.  While I have grown from these experiences and not the same person I was a year ago, I will never be able to throw this journey away like the clutter I got rid of at my home.  I have met many people who go through the same things I have.  If I hadn't had this journey I probably wouldn't have met the person who has brought us to this point of foster care and adoption and the potential for our family to become a reality.

 

I haven't stopped believing in miracles.  I glance at this bracelet on my wrist at least a hundred times a day and each time I stop and say a prayer...whether it for me, one of my many friends on this same journey, or for the child that we hope someday will be ours. My journey isn't over.  Even after 9+ years of trying to conceive, our journey to our family becoming a reality is still at the beginning.  For today I will keep looking at this bracelet and those words and remember where and why they came to be.

 

Don't stop believing in miracles.

Without seeing...

"I never thought I could fall in love without ever seeing with my eyes.  I never knew my soul could feel the way it does about someone not even of my own flesh and blood."

A few weeks ago if you told me that I could love a child that wasn't my own flesh and blood as if it was my own I would have dismissed you and your ideas.  However, now I would agree.  My husband and I have been talking in the past about becoming licensed as foster parents with an intention to adopt.  Several of my posts have in the past touched on this idea.  With vigor in our step we are racing to get all the paperwork and classes completed in order to get it down sooner rather than later.  Recently we fell in love.  We fell in love with a child even before having the opportunity to meet that child.  Our hearts were smitten.  For a few moments we completely forgot about our infertility struggle.  Only for a few moments.

I won't take this time to talk about the child, who they are, or anything of that matter as it is too soon to dwell on it and the privacy of all parties involved is important.  Someday...someday, if and when all has culminated into my husband and I having this addition to our family legally, then and only then can and will we share about some of that part of the journey.  At that point it shouldn't matter anyways as they will be legally our child...our son or daughter.  Rather, I choose to use my post today to talk about this role in our infertility journey.

I think I need to clarify things.  I've spent alot of time thinking these last few weeks about adoption, foster care, and our infertility.  Just because we have the opportunity to possibly adopt doesn't mean that I have forgotten completely about my infertility.  Likewise, we didn't fall head over heals for this child because of our infertility as some as you may think.  We fell head over heals because the time was right.  We fell head over heals because God made it possible for it to happen.  This child doesn't serve as a substitute for a child of our own.  Rather, this child becomes and is a part of our heart from the start.  Even if it didn't work out for us to adopt this child, we know now that it is possible to love that greatly and to live such a warming and full life.  We had been warned to guard our hearts so that if it didn't work out that it wouldn't hurt so bad.  But if you guard your heart you can not fully give and accept the love that a parent needs to have.  While we speak as if our hearts are guarded, we know deep down that we couldn't block the heart from totally accepting this child eyes and smile and love into it. 

Our biggest road block thus far has been negativity by a few individuals in our life.  The positive I have received from their negativity is a strength beyond anything I ever thought imaginable.  We have chosen to fill our life through this process with positivity.  I have spoken throughout my blog about the importance of believing in miracles.  Negativity creates an obstacle to believing in the positive.  It creates an inability to believe that miracles are possible.   Recently when I got depressed thinking that this kind of miracle couldn't happen to and for us because we don't get miracles, I was reminded by a friend that part of believing in miracles is believing that they can happen and that they can happen to us.

The journey of infertility is long.  Adoption doesn't make us any less infertile.  Adoption isn't a cure to infertility.  For us though, it is to road that is opening our eyes and our hearts to the possible.  It is the road that is opening our eyes to miracles. 

Don't stop believing in miracles.  I won't.  You can't.  Together we will continue to walk this journey hand in hand, educating others in the pain and struggle we endure, all while hoping for miracles to come out way.  Believe in Miracles.

When Tears Stream...

July 4, 2011.  Its a day that will forever be in my memory.  For most people, July 4th marks a day full of cook outs and family fun.  On that fourth of July, my life was anything but fun.  My husband and I had just come back the day before from a wedding of a relative. I had spent alot of time that weekend feeling invisable.  Invisable because we were one of the only childless couples in attendance at that wedding.  Invisable because even the in laws paid attention more to their grandchild that was there and left us out of doing things with them and other families with kids.  We were forgotten about.  We were invisable.  And inside I was hurting over yet another negative pregnancy test.

On that fourth of July I sat and cried.  Tears streamed down my face and I couldn't stop them.  I shook.  I rocked back and fourth.  I even tried to get my husband to leave me alone that day and go down to the lake house to spend time with his family.  I wanted to be alone. Yet there was fear inside of me about what I would have done had I been all alone.  I was depressed.  I was that depressed.  There was once again someone announcing they were expecting on Facebook or in an email.  There were pictures of new born babies being sent to my email from people not realizing just how it was hurting me and impacting me.  I wanted to ease the pain.  Alcohol couldn't give me any relief...it just made me more depressed.  I couldn't stop sobbing.  I couldn't understand why me....why us.  Others just wanted me to forget about having a child.  Others said to me that maybe it was God's way of telling me I wouldn't be a good mother or that maybe all I would be able to have were defective children.  I couldn't get thoughts like that out of my head.

It was also on that night that my husband wrapped me in his arms and told me that he wasn't giving up...and he wasn't going to let me give up either.  And he let me cry...and shake...and rock.  And he wiped my tears and made me pull myself together and leave the house that evening.  He made me take my first steps out the front door and keep living life.

I want nothing more than to be a mom.  To have a child of mine and my husband's.  I felt like a failure.  I felt flawed.  How could I consider myself a woman if the parts of my physical body that made me a woman didn't work?  No one I knew at that time understood.  No one could walk with me and put their arms around me and tell me it would be ok.  I was alone.  I was invisible.

In the year since that day...that day that I will never forget...I have gained a strength I never knew I would or could even have.  I met a group of others going through that same journey as me on Facebook.  I met others who cried those same tears I was crying.  I have yet to meet any of them face to face yet their support every single day helps me through this journey.  It was because of them that I started this blog. They gave me the courage to move forward, wake up each day, and to not give up.  They remind me to always believe in miracles....even when I feel like giving up.

I write this blog not just for me but for every single one of them.  I write this blog out of hope that if it helps even just one person today or tomorrow or a year from now and keeps them from giving up, then every word I type is worth it.  Every part of my life shared is worth it.

I wear my Believe in Miracles bracelet not just for me.  I wear it for every single person who struggles with this painful lonely journey.  I am not alone.  I am part of a bigger sister and brother hood.  I won't stop believing.  I will wake up each day, put on my shoes, and walk out that front door and face each day. 

When tears stream down you face, I will be there.  Don't stop believing in miracles.

One Day at a Time

I haven't written on here in almost a month.  It's hard to believe how time has flown by!  One of the things I have learned through our journey with infertility is the need to be patient.  And patience is the last thing in the world that I am often able to do.  What I have learned most this last month is to take each day one day at a time.  This is a necessity when on the infertility journey.

Just a day after my birthday last month (May 15th for the inquiring minds....) our hopes of being pregnant that month were dashed.  I had actually ovulated on my own for the first time really ever that month.  I remember doing three different ovulation test kits that month just to make sure that I had really seen two lines on the test.  When the 15th came and I had hoped to maybe find out I was pregnant on my birthday, it instead turned out to be negative. Big Fat Negative.  The next day, the monthly visitor reared her ugly head.  But I ovulated.  What a miracle this was!  Where I normally would have been upset that I wasn't pregnant I was relieved that I finally ovulated.  This month we are in the two week wait as once again ovulation occurred.  Another miracle.  I had begun to wonder if last months occurrence was a fluke when once again the OPK (ovulation predictor kits) came up with two lines and the ovulation twinges in the ovaries occurred.  One day at a time...

Sometimes taking each day as it comes helps us to let go of the anxiety and the desire to control things ourselves.  I am a control freak...I will admit it.  I hate it when things don't come in my time or when I planned it.  Maybe part of what I am learning most is to let go and relax...enjoy each day as it comes.  As I watch family and friends who have children or recently have had children, I am reminded that children grow up and once a child enters your life, your life is never the same.

My goal for this next year is to work on accepting each day as it comes.  I want to be pregnant and have children more than anything in the world.  My heart aches because of this desire.  Today, though, I will live as today.  I will work at enjoying each day of this two week wait before the next home pregnancy test.  While each day I think that maybe this time it worked and that maybe this time there will be two lines on the pregnancy test, I at least have hope each of these days.  A renewed hope that a couple months ago left me ready to throw in the towel.  Today I continue to believe in miracles because miracles are possible today if only I take it one day at a time.

Birthday Wishes

When the alarm clock went off this morning the last thing I wanted to do was actually get out of bed.  I was dreading going to work because as usual, I anticipated that once again they would rush out at the last minute when they realized it was my birthday today, get a card and whatever cheesey gift could be purchased at the local drugstore.  I imagined that today of all days  I would fell more alone than anyone could feel, regardless of the fact I have a husband, siblings, and parents alive.  Yes...today is my birthday.  But not just any birthday.  It's my 39th birthday.  The birthday before the big "OMG you are how old?" 40th birthday.  I know that I will feel each minute for the next year tick away slowly and reminding me that I am indeed hitting a milestone.  So many people have messaged me when they saw on my Facebook account that I was having a birthday today that 39 was not that old.  Normally this would be true.  In fertility years it means I am one step closer to menopause.  It means that my biological clock is about to explode.

For the last several years, everytime I was lucky enough to have a cake with candles on it that didn't start a small forest fire,  I wished to have a child as I was blowing out the candles.  But here I sit still with nothing.  Part of me hoped that this year would be the year....that maybe I would have a positive test on my birthday.  Instead, I am left with uncertainty.  An uncertain pregnancy test.  Did I see a very very very faint second line or is it all in my head because I want it tht much?  Did I test too early?  So, again its just a waiting game.

And yet the birthday I thought would suck the most has not been such a bad birthday...even with the unknown in front of me.  Glimpsing at my Facebook page I was amazed at how many people took the time from their day to wish me a Happy Birthday.  It amazed me.  It was authentic.  It meant alot to me.  Most of all, I didn't feel alone.

To all those of you who have wished me a happy birtday I say thanks you.  Once again my birthday wish this year as I blow out the candle on my gluten free cake will be the same...to one day hold a bundle of joy in my arms.  Until then I gotta keep believing in miracles.

The Waiting Game

One of the first lines of the Celine Dion song, "A New Day Has Come" says,

                                                   "I was waiting for so long
                                                    For a miracle to come
                                                    Everyone told me to be strong
                                                   Hold on, and don't shed a tear"

So often I feel like my life has been one large waiting game.  And here, once again, I am in that 2 week wait, hoping and praying that in a little over a week from now there will be two lines on the over the counter pregnancy test.  The worst thing of it all is that this Sunday is Mother's Day.  For many of us "Infertiles" (as so often dubbed), it is the worst day of the year.  It's a reminder to us that we are inadequate...or at least that's how we feel.  Sure we all have a mother and we can celebrate them.  However, nothing is worse than the feeling in my heart I get after hearing how all my friends and family that have children celebrated Mother's Day or what they got.  Is it about a gift or card or flowers?  No...it's about hearing someone say "Thank you Mom" or "I love you Mommy."

The two week wait is the worst!  For those of you who have experienced the two week wait, you know that your mind starts playing tricks on you and while you try not to hope that it will finally be a big fat positive, it still ruminates and sits in your entire being.  You start to think that every twinge means it for sure will be negative or for sure will be positive.  You deal with depression on the days your mind tells you that it has to be negative and you feel nothing but giddiness on the days you think that this time it just has to be positive.  Tears flow on and off like a broken faucet.

Waiting is hard.  It's even harder when its at this time of the year.  It has been difficult for some time because not only because of it being mother's day but rather because every year, Mother's Day is only a couple of days before my birthday.  This year I will be 39.  (I hate even typing that number!)  My biological clock is so loud now that I can barely think about anything else but wanting to become a mom.  Waiting.  I sit here and wait.

Strength is not one of my strong characteristics this week or ever this time of year.  As Mother's Day approaches I ask you all to do one favor.  As you go to your Mom's home (or aunt or grandmother who raised you) or celebrate your life as a parent (whether a mother or a father if you are one...) I ask you to take a few minutes to say a little prayer for all those of us struggling to make it through that day.  And pray for those who have lost a mother at this time.  I am fortunate that both my parents are still alive and I am grateful for my Mom and Grandma.

This is not my typical blog but it was something on my mind as I wait.  I haven't given up.  I still believe in miracles.