Wondering

I've decided, you never can heal 100% from infertility. You try and try, but there is always something there to remind you. Your body is broken. Your dream was denied. You will never be that growing belly. You will never feel that life grow inside you. You will always wonder, but you will never know.  You will always be excluded from the motherhood club.

A friend recently asked if I changed my mind. If I wanted to try again. No, I don't. But I can't deny I would have loved the experience and I am jealous of those who do get to experience it. Sometimes, I just want to know what it feels like to have a baby kick inside your belly. And sometimes my arms ache to hold a new born. But after that, I'm ready to go back to real life.

My house is quite. And if its messy, its just my fault. Not that messy houses bother me, I think they looked lived in and happy.

Don't get me wrong. I wanted to be a mom. I wanted it so bad I thought it would tear me apart. I didn't think there was any other point to life if I couldn't be a mom.

But I couldn't keep living like that. My life was so messed up and I was such an emotional wreck I could hardly function.

I have moved on. There is more things in life to give you purpose besides motherhood. My life finally feels complete.

But still, I will never stop wondering what it would have been like.

Remembering

I've spent the day trying to remember the happy memories from our adoption journey. From the time we started the paperwork, to closing our profile, its a path we walked for 4 years. Four years of ups and downs (mostly downs). But it included a blissful four month period where we thought we were going to be parents.

I'm having a hard time. I remember how exciting the first email was. But then I remember, it didn't end well. I remember how nervous and excited I was for the first phone call. Then I remember, it didn't end well. I remember how we hugged and cried after being chosen. Then I remember the email that undid it all. I remember how excited I was to learn it was a girl. Then I remember, we don't have a little girl.

I really need to get excited about something, but I'm struggling. I keep reminding myself that this kind of thing is good news, but then, all I can remember is how our story ended and I have a hard time being happy. And its all selfish; its not like I'm worried they will have the same sad ending. I'm just reminded how sad mine was.

Then I remember other parts of our infertility journey. The endless tears. The hurt feelings of rejection and oblivion. The ignorance to just how hard it was to put a smile on my face when I was dying inside.

I don't know if I can do this again.

Stepping onto my soapbox...

I have a friend who is going through a divorce right now. A nasty divorce. Like married to another women before divorcing her. I love her, and I won't delve into her personal life, but as she has talked about it, some parts of it have really hit a nerve for me.

One of their problems is, she can't have children. So now he is having a child with someone else. Their marriage had many problems, but when she talks about that, it just burns me.

I don't believe people get married JUST to have kids. They get married because they are in love. They want to start a family together. They talk about what beautiful babies they will have. They talk about what great grandparents their parents will be. I understand that. But I don't think a person decides they want a baby and then randomly chooses a stranger off of the street to help them procreate.

Motherhood was always in the back of my mind when I was dating. I had all those thoughts. But they were secondary to my courtship. Firstly, I wanted someone I could love and who could love me. Kids would come second.

I see marriages and feel bad for them. Dad is only kept around to keep a steady income coming in. Mom doesn't actually let him engage with the children. She feels that is HER job. Mom runs and runs with the kids. They are her ONLY focus. Then, one day, the kids have all grown and started families of their own. I think the couple looks at each other and thinks "who are you?" They didn't spend any time over the years, fostering their relationship. They realize they have nothing in common, and they separate.

I am no marriage expert, but I always feel like couples forget about THEM once the kids start coming. Or once they realize their will be no kids.

I used to belong to some infertility forums. One day, a woman said she was thinking of leaving her husband because he couldn't give her a baby. I was enraged and I called her out on it. I asked her if having a baby was the only reason she married him. I never did hear from her, so I have no idea how it worked out.

When we learned that Josh had a zero sperm count, I had a lot of thoughts. Leaving him was NOT one of them. I love that man. I did not marry him just so he could give me beautiful babies. I married him because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. Kids or no kids, I love that man.

It just burns me how kids, or the lack of kids, can destroy a marriage. I think a couple should focus on each other first. The strong their relationship, the better the entire family will be.

Stepping off of my soapbox now.

Living in the Shadow

I've thought more about my post the other day. I was having  a bad day, and one thing led to another, and lost control. I complained to one friend, who didn't get it. So then I complained to another friend, who did. That's why I love you H!

I kept thinking "why is this bothering me so much?" (Sorry I'm going to have to remain slightly vague here.) But then it dawned on me, its because I'm tired of living in the shadow of others. And if this thing does happen, I will once again, be in the shadow.

Its just that sometimes, the shadow gets so big that I fear it will swallow me.

Right now, there are a lot of pregnancies around me. (Why do those always come in waves?)  I can joke, because I've never been pregnant, but seriously, those growing bellies are casting shadows on me. (Sorry ladies, pun intended. But really, your bellies are beautiful.) With some people, every conversations  revolves around their belly. And after 9 months, it just gets old. There has got to be something else going on in your life; you are not JUST a pregnant belly.

Now I just sound bitter, and I don't mean to. I'm actually happy for these growing babies. I wouldn't let a lady move her chair the other night because I didn't want her to strain herself. And I'm hoping like crazy another lady is going to have a girl, so she won't be so out numbered by the boys anymore. I gave another lady a gift and wished it could have been more

I'm not bitter, I just need a break from it all.

This looming shadow isn't pregnancy related, but it still touches a very tender part of my infertility. I've realized, that the first big blow on my infertility, is still the one that hurts the most. After all these years, those relationship are still damaged.

Sometimes, they try to mend it. But I push them away. Then, when I feel like I'm ready to get closer, they are still mad at me and want nothing of it. I know its my fault for being so bitter and hateful, but that event was so crushing to my soul, I feel like it will never mend.

I've let it define me, and I shouldn't.

So, once again, I'm going to try and mend things. When I think of the whole situation, I will only allow myself to think happy thoughts. No more dealing on the past. It is what it is, and its time to finally let go and move on.

If the shadow approaches, I will have to find a way to redirect it.

Let Go

 

I wish I could figure out how to let go of things in my life.

So many of those statements are so true for me.

I've been trying to let go of pain for years, but all I ever manage to do is bury it down deep.

 

Then, it slowly comes back to haunt me.

 

I need to give up on my need for control.

The blame.

The need to impress.

My fears.

My excuses.

THE PAST.

 

Maybe if I could get over the past, I could over come all the other areas of my life.

 

But I swear, its always there, taunting me.

Haunting me.

 

Reminding me:

That I still hurt.

That I still cry.

That I can't let go.

That I can't forgive and forget.

 

And the sad thing is, most of these feelings aren't even related to being unchosen, but to other events and people. This bitterness started long before we even started the adoption process.

 

Infertility is such a big impact on my life. The problem is, most of the world doesn't get that.  I feel like I am the one being asked to move on with my life like things never happened. Like its all my fault I can't have babies and I should just get over it. Like you would expect a child to get over not getting exactly what they want for Christmas.

 

The peace that came after closing our adoption profile was amazing.

I just can't seem to find the same peace in the other areas of my infertile life.

 

 

 

More then one way to be happy

I am a huge fan of scrapbooking. I love pictures. I look at them, and remember so many happy memories. I love preserving those happy memories.

For years, I built up my scrapbook supplies thinking "when I have kids, I will be ready to document every second of their lives." I invested lots of money in those supplies. Those supplies gathered dust as we rode the infertility roller coaster.

As the ride reached its end, I realized, I could still use those supplies. Josh & I have our own adventures, but what I love documenting the most, is my nephews. They are a big part of my life and they bring me so much happiness.

Just last night, I got my newest order of prints in the mail. I scrapbook for myself, but I also try to do it for my mom and my sister.  So any picture order I have is huge, because I will order at least 3 of each print. Multiple in birthday's, fishing, holidays, etc. and it really is a huge project I bring onto myself.

But I love it. It helps me remember I don't have to be a mother to have happiness in my life. Being an aunt has brought more joy into my life then I even imagined. 

From time to time, I will have people imply that I can't be happy, based simply on the fact I am not a mother. But I have found, there are more paths to happiness than just mother hood. When I look at all my pictures, I think my heart will explode from all the love I have for those four boys I have in my life. I can't imagine my life being any different.

I'm glad there are more ways to happiness then just one.

Costs

I know, that when it comes to the finances of infertility, we actually got off pretty easy.

Just a few simple drugs to help me ovulate.

A test to learn we had no sperm.

No extensive drugs or test.

No IUI's or IVF's.

We did have to pay $1000 when we started our adoption profile. That was a LOT of money at that point of our marriage.

After that, there was a few more costs, but like I mentioned above, nothing compared to what a lot of women go through.

For that, I am grateful.

But when we were gathering money for our down payment on our house, I was burned that we lost that $1000 we originally put down to adopt. LDSFS did pretty much nothing during the years we were with them. Shoot, we even found our potential birth mom through a different website we paid a monthly fee for!

I know in this journey of infertility, its all a costly risk, but sometimes it burns more than other times.

My "baby" is Growing Up

I won't deny it, I am a bear (and I'm using a nice term here) when there are pregnancies in the family. We had a several year head start on both sides of our families, so when we didn't produce the 1st grand child, it tore me up and turned me into a pysco witch.

With my sister's 1st pregnancy, I actually did ok for part of it; we were expecting too.

Then when we lost our baby, I was so consumed in my own grief to even be a part of anything else.

It only took me 4 years to find enough peace with my own infertility before I could fully enjoy the anticipation of a new nephew. That was around the time my sister was expecting her 2nd baby.

I seriously love this little guy to pieces.

A few weeks ago, he turned two. I kept telling Josh "my baby is growing up." He finally corrected me and reminded me, he isn't MY baby.

But he still sort of feels like my baby because he was the 1st one I let myself fully love. My happiness for a nephew was finally greater then my ache for a baby of my own.

When my 2nd nephew was born, our profile had been active for almost 2 years and we had had no legit contacts on it. I was severely depressed and caught up only in my grief. I also felt like I had been mislead during the 1st pregnancy, so I was having a hard time with that too. 

We were up visiting one day and suddenly the baby was literally dropped in my lap. I know how to hold babies, I'm not a dummy. But mentally, I wasn't prepared for that. There is a Friend's episode where they tell Rachel to not hold the baby like a foot ball. That is exactly how I felt.I felt like I was being forced to do something, and I couldn't handle it.

That pretty much describes, the first 3 nephews.

But with the 4th, the pain was faint enough that I could enjoy it all. I was so excited when this little guy was born and I couldn't not get enough of him.

I don't play favorites, I promise. And yet, this guy holds an extra piece of my heart. Maybe he helped to fill some of the hole that was there from my infertility.

I just can't believe my "baby" is growing up.

The Big Reason

While trying to be true to myself, and not feel the need to hide who I am, I am going to give a short version of why we don't go to church anymore. I know it confuses people because we tried to adopt through LDSFS, and you have to be LDS to do so, but I don't consider myself LDS anymore.

I got married in the temple because it was the "right thing to do."
When we couldn't have kids, the LDS Church (which I'll call just "the church" for the rest of this post), encouraged us to adopt.
When we were selected, they encouraged us to treat it as near to being pregnant as we could. Celebrate the moments! Announce it to family and friends!

After the adoption, the church did nothing. Not that they should have done much, but they literally did nothing. I bawled in church the day after that baby was born. No one noticed.

Each member might feel differently, but the general belief seems to be: If you have a miscarriage, that baby will be yours to raise in the next life. The church had told us that our being unchosen was kind of like a miscarriage.

Except that baby is now sealed to another family.

We're a loop hole. And I simply can NOT live with that.

I'm not saying the LDS church is wrong. But I am saying, it is not for me.

New Purpose for This Blog

I've been browsing the internet today and have found several childless bloggers and feel like I have found a new set of friends. I have felt so alone lately. My heart and soul cry to find others who are childless like me.

Reading all of their different experiences has brought tears to my eyes. Tears for their sorrows, but also, tears to know I'm not alone.

So I am going to try to make this blog a more active blog again. So others out there can know they aren't alone.

I thought once we felt good about closing our adoption profile, the ache would go away. It did fade to the back ground, but it is still there. I'm so glad to know I'm not the only one like that! I find myself constantly yelling at my internal clock to shut up. We are done, it shouldn't hurt. But sometimes, it still does.

I've been afraid to blog here because I don't want to hurt feelings. But I'm slowing learning that I need to stand up for myself. I'm human, just like every one else. I shouldn't have to brush my feelings and emotions under the rug to spare a few hurt feelings. This is MY blog. You are welcome to read it or you can leave.

I just need a safe place to express my feelings and I am going to make that place here.

I'm Struggling

I need to quit lying to myself and admit, I am really struggling right now.

It started when I started packing to move. Its like all these memories came rushing back and were trying to drown me.

I remembered how I felt when we moved into that house. I was hopeful and I just knew we would start a family there.

I can remembered sitting on the couch with Josh and reading his test results.

I remembered the countless hours trying to put together an adoption profile.

I remembered getting that first email from C. And the first phone call with  her. And the first time meeting her.

And the email that made it all come true.

And the email that took it all away.

After that memory, I couldn't get out of that house fast enough. I wanted it behind me and I was never looking back. (And the bats. They were just as bad!)

I stumbled onto things that I had bought while in the adoption spirit. Stuff I thought would be a good birth mom gifts or other things that inspired me. Luckily, I had gotten rid of all the other baby stuff last year. I don't know if I could have dealt with that too while I was going through all this other emotion turmoil.

I just kept telling myself "get out of here and it will all go back to normal."

But it hasn't.

Babies are on my mind all.the.time right now. There is this "what if" voice in my head and it is driving me insane.

I was over this.

No, that doesn't mean we are thinking of trying again. I still swear that bridge is burned. I can't put myself through that again.

I just wish I could get the voices in my head and my heart to agree with each other.

Why Am I Crying?!

Why am I crying?!

Not bawling really, just small tears trickling down.

But why?

I'm sure it could hormones; it is that time of the month.

Or I could blame stress. House buying, what an adventure.

Or lack of sleep. But I think that is because of the stress.

Or is it tears of happiness for another? Someone who really deserves this happy ending. My first thought was "No way? I'm so happy for her!" She deserves this pregnancy more then anyone I know.

Or is it sadness? For a path of happiness I never got to travel. Not that I'm not happy, cause I am. I just read a hilarious book written by a lady who lives childfree. LOVED it! Just like when you deal with infertility, once you decide to live child free, people are so judgmental and say the meanest/stupidest things.

Or maybe its just tears from remembrance of a painful time.

Infertility, I will never figure you out.

Warning: Explosion of Feelings

Not sure if I'll ever publish this, but I need to vent.

Why must infertility affect relationships so much?

Before we had nephews, I had a good relationship with the in-laws and a mediocre one with mine. Now that there is nephews, on both sides, it feels like the opposite. Great relationship with my family, but I feel like the one with the in-laws isn't as good as it used to be.
 

When it comes to my family, I'm grateful I finally have a good relationship. Its almost like we needed those kids to love together to give us something in common. I would not trade the world for the relationship I have with my sister now. But I miss the relationship I used to have with my in-laws. Yet, I have no idea what went wrong or how to fix it.
 

I feel so out of the loop anymore. I'm pretty sure it all boils down to: we don't have kids, so we aren't as important.
 

Or maybe its the whole church thing. If we don't go, we aren't as important. I don't want to get into the whole church thing because I respect those who go and I keep hoping for the same respect back.
 

The short version is, church isn't for me anymore. Nothing else has changed other then the fact I don't go to church on Sunday's. I'm still me. I still scrapbook. I still love my husband and my cats. I still spend lots of time spoiling the nephews. I still like the same kind of books and movies. I just don't have the desire to let religion to be a part of my life anymore. Its not like I've become a deep, dark person with no soul all the sudden.
 

Or maybe its a combination of both the above reasons.
 

I want to fix things, but after the whole infertility roller coaster, its like I feel the need to immediately put up walls and become defensive around people, even when we're just over for a Sunday lunch or other simple gathering.
 

Its not like I feel like I'm hated, just valued as less worthy or less important. Like I can't bring as much to the family. Or like we are less insignificant. But we aren't. Josh and I are still a family unit on our own. We have just as many dreams, aspirations, heartaches, tough times, etc. as any one else in the family.
 

I take it personally that my birthday gets forgotten. And that we miss out on other family things. I know I act like its not important to me, but it is. I've just been hurt so many times, I feel the need to act standoffish. But when I realize we've missed something, inside, I am crushed. Even missing the little things hurts.
 

I could give examples, but anymore, I don't know who reads this blog and I don't want to say something that will be taken the wrong way.


With my family, I feel like I'm "in the loop". With the in-laws, stuff will come up and they expect me to know about something that happened last month, but this is the first time it was mentioned to me. Then I feel dumb for not knowing. But if I don't know there is something I'm supposed to know, how am I supposed to know I'm missing out on it?
 

Its so frustrating! But I don't know what to do!
 

I wish I could explain it better. With my sister, I feel comfortable inviting myself to things. And when she says yes, I can feel her excitement to have me there. With the in-laws, its like..., well its just different. And even when I don't invite myself, my sister is right there inviting me anyways. I love that our relationship is like that.
 

Its like she sees me as someone who can be an important part of the boys lives. Gifts are great, but that's not all I am. And I feel like her boys love and adore me. Maybe that comes from being around them so much more, but again, that's because I feel like I'm of worth to contribute something to them. Not just a face in the crowd.
 

And maybe I'm being to harsh. The in-laws have made sure the boys give us hugs when we bring gifts or treats. Again, I'm just at a loss of words of how to describe how it feels so different. Like there is a different feeling in the air or atmosphere between the two families.
 

And friendships? Sigh. Its hard to make friends with people who had kids. I was trying to explain it to the hubs when I was complaining one night that I had no one to hang with. He mentioned a few people I work with. I would enjoy hanging with them, but after they work a 10 hour day, I'm sure the place they want to be the most, is with their kids. I know that is how I would feel if I was a working mother.
 

Or again, maybe its the whole religion thing again. Please know, even if our values are different, we can respect yours. If we offend in word or action, please say something and we will correct it. Don't want us drinking around you? Done. Its not like we drink that much anyway, just an occasional one here and there. Granted, my swearing has gotten a little worse, but I try to watch myself around others. Or is it is something else? Just let me know. I'd rather be told what I did wrong so I can fix it, rather then just be ignored and forgotten.
 

So I think to myself, find some friends that don't have kids, you know, just like you. That is proving harder then I thought it would be.
 

Sometimes, I feel like I'm a small child standing away from the groups at recess praying, please be my friend.

 

 

Now this just sounds like a desperate plea to be noticed.... Maybe its time to publish this so I quit coming back and repeatedly sticking my foot in my mouth. I'll probably end up regretting publishing this. Why? Because I try so hard to be a people pleaser, and I'm pretty sure this whole thing goes against that. But I have feelings, and I can only hold them in for so long before they spill out. Maybe if I got this stuff off my chest more often, it wouldn't explode out of control like this.

 

 

Or maybe this is all just in my head and I'm over analyzing everything way to much.

 

 

I thought when I moved beyond my infertility, I would no longer experience this lonely feeling anymore...

I find myself wondering if it really is better to have loved and lost rather then to have not loved at all.

Being an expectant mom was some of the happiest moments of my life. I was on top of the world. Even everyone questioning "what if" couldn't knock me down. Shame on all of you naysayers. Forget how it turned out, you should have been happy for me when I was happy.

Being unchosen, and the months that followed, were the darkest moments of my life. Sometimes I'm amazed I survived it.

I still question (and probably always will) why it had to happen. Since deciding to not pursue parenthood anymore, Josh and I have found peace. So why did we need to try to adopt only to fail? Are we better off because we tried? Is it better to have tried and failed rather then to not have tried at all.

I hate to think of us still being stuck in the eternal limbo of hoping to get looked at. If we had never met C, would we still be waiting? Waiting for nothing? Maybe we needed to try and fail just so we could move forward with our lives. For that, I guess I am grateful for C. I know people who were approved even before us and they are still waiting. Still waiting for baby #1 to find them. I'm so glad that isn't us anymore. I'm not saying their baby won't find them, I'm hoping their family will grow. I'm just grateful to be past the waiting and wondering. I'm so glad Josh and I were able to find peace with our family the size it is.

I know we've always had the freedom of being just us, but over the last 2 years, we've really come to appreciate it. I love our last minute dates. I love not being tied down. I love that when we decided to plan a cruise, it was that much less complicated. I know I complained about all the traveling for the recent wedding celebrations, but I really did love it all. I'm glad we didn't have to worry about kids and the long hours on the road or even having to miss stuff because of kids. I love late Wii nights with our other childless friends.

And I LOVE spoiling my nephews. I just went with my sister to take Valex to his first movie and I had a BLAST. I've started thinking about what I want to get them for Easter and I could end up spending quite a bit. I love those little boys so much and through them I have been able to feel the void I once had in my heart.

My two best friends are relations, but I didn't come to know them until we were all led to adoption. I hate to think of all the time we've missed together before then. But I'm so glad that through infertility and adoption, I was able to get to know them and love them. As Heather said, "it was fate". Yes, I think it was.

In 2009, we had a yard sale to raise some money for our adoption fund. We didn't earn much, but I've come to realize, that's because something else needed to come from the yard sale. One of my dad's relations came and bought some books. Then she mentioned that her oldest daughter, Heather, was looking into adoption. I told her I'd love to visit with her. I remembered her from childhood, but she was my sister's age so we were never close. I can't even remember who emailed who first, but soon afterwards an amazing friendship blossomed. I'm forever grateful for that. She is one of my dearest and truest friends.

I can't even remember how Jessica and I finally connected, but I know it was somehow through FSA. I haven't had a bff since I got married and I didn't realize how much I missed that.

One failed adoption broke my heart, but when I look at all the other blessings, it almost seems worth it.

The Dream That Never Lived, but Never Died

A few weeks ago, I was bored. B.O.R.E.D. So I got on Pinterest. After looking at all my favorite boards, I was still bored. So I started looking at the boards I never look at. I ended up on the kids board. I thought maybe I could find some fun projects to do with the nephews. Instead, I was bombarded by baby paraphernalia. Baby shoes, baby dresses, baby.baby.baby. Next thing I knew, I'm bawling because I want a baby too.

In the heat of the moment, I wrote out a poem. I'm sure it doesn't hold to perfect poem form, but it was my thoughts at that exact moment. After finishing it up, I set it aside and thought I'd come back to it a few days later and fine tune it. The next morning, I woke up fine with the way things were and forgot about it.

I stumbled onto it today. The feelings did not come rushing back, but I've decided I want to publish this on my blog. Infertility never goes away. Its not something a person can just "get over." But it is something that most people can accept. I'm never going to be a mother and that is ok. Once upon a time, it wasn't. It was devastating. But now, this is my life and it is just as wonderful. 

The Dream that Never Lived, but Never Died
My little baby, some days,

I still yearn for you.

My arms ache to hold you.

My ears yearn to hear your cries.

Years of trying.

Years of hoping.

Years of hurting.

Denied by nature.

Denied by fate.

You were my dream denied.

Even after moving on,

I still can't help but look back,

From time to time.

You were a dream that never lived,

but also never died. 

The clock may never stop ticking.

A moment or memory,

Or a thought of what could be

Brings it all rushing back.

And I can't help but wonder.

I can only spare a moment for you,

Life moves on, so must I.

I am blessed in other ways.

A tear slips out, but only one.

Heaven knows I've cried an ocean over you.

You never grew in my belly.
I never held you in my arms.

But you were always in my heart.

You were a dream that never lived, 
But also never died.

(This poem is property of Savannah Christensen, written on 1/14/13.)