Fertility Shaming

When I was deep in the trenches of infertility, there was nothing I hated more than Mother's Day. I dreaded that holiday more than any other. Partly because it was a reminder that I was not a mother, so I had no reason to celebrate. But also because I hated how I would be treated on that day. If I went to church, they would hand me a flower and say it was because I was a women who had the potential to be a good mother. But after the first time that happened, I avoided church like the plague on that Sunday each year.

Each year, it was hard to honor my own mother and mother in-law because the pain was too much. Because not only was it Mother's Day, but also seemed to be a day to honor grandparents also. So not only was I reminded I wasn't a mother, but also that because of me, they weren't grandmother's. (Realistically, I knew that wasn't my fault. But as the oldest child of each family, I had put that extra pressure on myself.)

With all of that being said, this post may come as a shock to most. But I'm noticing a growing trend, fertility shaming. Maybe this is only my opinion, but I feel like I must speak out.

Maybe its because I'm in such a healthy place now. But I don't remember ever being so hateful to motherhood in general. I would find myself trying to justify some mother's over others and I would baffled at how some could be mother's when I couldn't. But I never felt like I was at war with all mothers in general.

I noticed this trend slowly. Someone would post a meme about being a grandmother. Or about how the greatest gems around a neck were those of your child. (You know the ones that make you think, blah, blah, blah. Big deal) Sure, it would sting a little bit, but I would just scroll by. And I don't think I ever saw a person attacked publicly over it. But I've seen rants on private groups and they make me sad.

But now that Mother's Day is approaching, I feel like the haters are coming out. I almost feel like they want the day cancelled in honor of their grief. I no longer hate Mother's Day, but still have very mixed feelings over it. I wish there was a way it could be a day to honor mom's, and yet those in the infertile community could have no idea it was that day and therefore it would be just another day to them. But I know that's not even possible in our over commercialized world we live in.

At first, I just tried to ignore this fertility shaming. I remember the pain. It feels like it will never end. But yesterday, I found myself trying to leave a comment on a blog post a mother had written. It was your basic, "the house is filthy; its mac n cheese for dinner. But I wouldn't change it for anything." I wrote a long comment about how I used to wish that was my life. I would trade my clean house for not clean. But I wasn't given that opportunity. Then I realized I couldn't comment as anonymous, so I didn't want to post the comment.

I'm not against anonymous comments; I allow them on my blog. But I also feel like if you can't say something and attach your name to it, maybe you shouldn't say it at all. I allow anonymous comments because I want someone to feel like they can freely express themselves without reviling too much about themselves. But if its a rude comment, I delete it. Anonymous should be for someone scared, not angry.

I keep going back and forth on my feelings here. In reality, most of these hateful things I have seen are on private groups; groups for childless people only. So mom's and grandma's probably have no idea. Which is the way it should be. As an infertile, we need a safe place to vent and cry and curse.

Still, I can't help but wonder if these feelings help a person find peace and healing, or if they actually slow down the process. I believe its the latter reason. If you cling to hate and bitterness, it becomes a part of you.

That's the point I'm trying to get to. Infertility sucks. It hurts. Sometimes you think you are going to die from the pain. Sometimes you wish you would. But don't stay in that moment. I believe, that if all you do is curse mother's and grandmother's for their happiness, you will never find your own happiness. Its not their fault they aren't living in the same nightmare you are; don't hold it against them. I can't walk around and always expect my family and friends to pretend they don't have kids & grand kids. I wouldn't want my misery to rain on their parade.

Could they be more supportive? I think that is a mixed question. Honestly, most people are pretty sensitive to my situation. Its only every now and then when I want to choke someone until they understand. But I can't be that way to everyone, because not everyone is that way to me.

I think there can be a better balance. Don't ignore your feelings. Doing so will only let them pressure and build up until they explode in an ugly fashion. But don't stew on them forever. Acknowledge the pain, but then count your other blessing. I hate not being a mother. But right now, I'm extremely grateful that I'm able to go back to school. I wouldn't have done it if I had kids. I hate that I'm not a mother, but I'm not going to lie, I love sleeping in on the weekends and having a quite house.

If you are still pursing treatment or adoption, my prayers are with you. I hope it works out. But whether it works out or not, I wish you happiness. Don't wait around waiting for it to happen. Find those moments now.

Good Mom

Do you ever meet a stranger and wish you could go back and say something to them? Several months ago, I met a lady. She admitted that she was struggling as a mom; she felt like she wasn't good enough. I have thought about her a lot since then. I wish I could go back, wrap my arms around her, and tell her that I could see she was a good mom. But since I'll probably never get that opportunity, I decided to write a blog post instead.

I have yet to meet someone who suffers from infertility that isn't quick to pass judgement. We see news stories of babies found in dumpsters and wonder why God would give that baby to someone else and not us, when clearly we want one so much. Or we know someone who is on drugs. Why does God bless them with babies, but not us? We will even question why someone can have 5, 6, 7 (or more kids) and wonder why they couldn't just have one less and we could have just one? Just one? Is that too much to ask?

But with this lady, I felt like I could see her sweet spirit. Not only could I tell that she wasn't one of the above, but I could just tell that she tries her hardest. Maybe its because of the guilt she was feeling that helped me understand she is a good mom. She cared that her child was suffering in school. She felt bad for loosing her temper one night. She just wanted energy to be able to be the best mom for her kids. I think those thoughts and feelings she shared with me are what pointed towards her being a good mom. She cared so much that it hurt.

I know I don't have first hand experience, but I still can appreciate that raising kids is a LOT of work and it can be exhausting. I don't look at mom's and think I could do better. Personally, I wonder how you do it all. Parenting is hard. But you make it look beautiful.

Keep up the good work. You are a good mom.

Dear Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,
I would like the chance to address your comment that you left. I'd like to say it gave me something to think about, but mostly it just made me want to share some thoughts of my own.

You said:

Listen, why don't you just adopt. It'll be infinitely rewarding. A human soul is a human soul, it needs nurture, love and support. If you give that to him, he will be your child. Any child you would've given birth to would also have been an individual, maybe nothing like you or your husband. Similarities in genetics or physical appearance eventually only brings you so much joy. What brings joy is seeing a child laugh because of something you did, seeing them do kind things, seeing them grow into the best version of themselves. Because of you. You have nephews, you know this. So go ahead and try and adopt, what's stopping you. There are so many children out there, so so many, that need loving homes and human influences in their lives. You can do that for them. Stop moping and go for it!

Is this your first visit to this blog? If so, can I recommend you read a few posts on this blog and my other blog?
Nobody Told Me

UnChosen
 (Just to point out a few, basically the start and the end. But that are some many posts about our adoption journey over the years.On both blogs.)

Also, you can just look at my sidebar on this blog to get a brief history of our journey.

My next question is, have you adopted your self? Or are all of your children conceived biologically?
Its really hard to answer your question without know that part.

If you have adopted, then you know what a hard, long, expensive, emotional journey it can be. In that case, I'm not sure if its passion that drives you to suggest we adopt or what your motive is. But I would think if you had adopted before you would be more understanding of my own decision.

If you haven't adopted, can I ask why? If you are so concerned for the orphans of the world, don't push them off on childless couples in hopes to ease your conscience. Go and adopt them yourself.  Then maybe you can learn what a hard, long, expensive, emotional journey it can be.

But really, I'm going to guess that you haven't adopted before, because one of the things infertile couples HATE to hear is "why don't you just adopt?" Its not like I sign my name on a dotted line and 9 months late I have a baby. If only it were that easy. (Again, I refer you to notice in my side bar we tried to adopt for years.)

I have stewed over your comment all day. I'll tell you now, I over think EVERYTHING.

My many thoughts today have included:

* "Hello, can't you see that we did try?"  To which you would refute, "You're just worried of getting hurt again."

On one hand, yes, I am terrified to put my heart on the line again. After being unchosen, I sunk pretty low. Not quite suicidal, but on the verge. So yes, to try again and have it fall through again, well, I'm honestly not sure I can do that again.

But I have found peace with what we went thru. That little baby did end up in a loving home. Maybe she would have all along. But maybe, because we were a part of C's life, we were able to help her decide on what she wanted to do.

*I could argue that money is an issue, but honestly, its not anymore. Because we are now older, we are now wiser with our money. We have established careers and have a better income. And if it still wasn't enough, we have offers to help us reach the goal of adoption.

But its not just about money. My heart just isn't into it anymore. I'm still an advocate of adoption. I wish more young mother's would consider it. I wish it was an easier avenue for childless couples to pursue. I wish the world had a better understanding of adoption. Not just the versions they see in the movies, or bad cases portrayed in the news. Most people who adopt, don't magically get pregnant a year later. Most adoptions go thru with out an ugly court case. But those are the things you don't see.

* You mentioned I know all about loving a child because I have nephews. Damn right I do. I love those little boys something fierce. I dare to say that their momma's love them most, followed by their grandma's. Right on those heals is their aunt Savannah.

They have healed the hole in my heart. Because of them, I was able to let go of the dream of becoming a mother.

* Do I mope from time to time? Of course I do. Does a parent who had a child die before them still mourn them years later? Or a family that looses their home to a fire? Or a person who lost a limb to an accident or cancer? Mourning comes in all forms for many reasons. It is a part of human nature. I believe a person can move on with life, but it still okay to grieve for what might have been or what was. I believe the grief cycle becomes less intense, but it never ends.

So yes, I still have my sad moments from time to time. But they aren't near as painful as they used to be. I acknowledge how I am feeling and then I move on. Those moments are pretty rare. I don't think 5 minutes of sadness means I need to jump back into the adoption world.

I may still be young enough to be a mother, but my heart isn't into it anymore. I'm sure you'll call it selfish, but I am at peace with my life.

However, if you feel so passionately about adopting, I throw your advice back to you.

The Last Sign

I have worked so hard to move on with my life. I try to not look back. I hold little regrets.

But I can't deny: I tried. I yearned. I ached. I hoped to be a mother. 

Once we decided to live as a childless couple, I did my best to eradicate myself of all evidence of a hoped for baby. At first, it was how I dealt with the pain. I couldn't stand the reminders I was surrounded with. 

After a while, it felt freeing. 

But even then, I still found myself hanging one to one thing, well, two things. 

The blue blanket was the very first one I learned to crochet on. When we first decided to adopt, we had the option to say if we wanted just a boy or a girl. At that time, (maybe because I have such a need for control), we decided to look for a boy. As I sewed around the blanket, I could picture our son in it. Rocking him in my arms.

After some time, we felt it best to broaden our search to either a boy or a girl. So when I saw the purple camo blanket, I knew I needed it, just in case we were blessed with a little girl. As before, I pictured our daughter swaddled in it. 

Over the years, I've had many opportunities to gift these blankets. But I always push them to the bottom of my pile and tell myself I will deal with them later. 

Once again, I find myself with the perfect opportunity to gift the blue one to a little boy. Furthermore, a little boy I already love.

But I don't know if I can do it. 

The little blanket means so much to me and I worry no one will understand its importance. 

The love that went into it. 

The tears it dried. 

To them, it'll just be a blanket. 

But to me, it was a dream. 

It is the only thing I have left to show that we tried to be parents. 

I just don't know that I can let go of that yet. 

Others may ignore or forget that we were almost parents, but I never will. 

Forgiveness

I think I am in the middle of a personal revelation and I just want to soak it all in and figure it out.

But I'm at work and just don't have the time to pause life right now. So here is my random thoughts that I need to build on later. 

I have never forgiven myself. 

 I've never forgiven my body for not working the way a women's body a should.

I've never forgiven myself, for never providing grandbabies. This is hard given the culture I was raised in.

I've never forgiven myself, for not being good enough. Which always amazes me, because I forgave her a long time ago. I always blame myself for the way it ended.

I've never forgive myself, for not trying harder.

Then, I look at my digital picture frame at work and I see:

Josh helping Valex catch his first fish.

Myself, riding with Daxsen his first time on a carousel.

Myself, with Preston his first time fishing.

Tyler, sitting with Josh like they are best friends.

Myself, with all of my nephews at the cornmaze. 

I have so many thoughts I want to expand on, but don't have the time right now. More to come later.  

Recovering From Heartbreak

I was talking to someone yesterday and found out we knew a person in common. I asked how they were doing and the subject of heart break (and not being able to move on) came up. In this case, it had to do with the love that got away and not being able to love another. This person was kind of critical of the 3rd person. Its been years, why can't he get over it and just find someone else?

I was polite, and just nodded my head. But inside, I thought "sometimes a heartache is so big, you never recover."

I won't deny I've had moments where I want to jump back into the madness of trying to become a mother. But I'm not willing to put my heart on the line like that again. Its not worth the risk to me. I don't think I could survive it a second time. I know, there is no guarantee it would happen that way. I know several people who have tried again, after heart break, and its worked out well the next time around.

I remember the LOOOONG waiting. Then the brief moment of hope and happiness. But that is always followed by the heart ache. It almost crushed me completely.

But a baby is worth it most would say. And I'm not saying they are wrong. But I just don't have it in me to try again.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter. I've moved on with my life. We have found other ways to bring joy to our lives. Just this weekend, Josh admitted he wouldn't have taken the job he did years ago if we had a kid. And he's probably right. But I shutter to think that might mean he would still be stuck in the miserable job he had before.

We probably wouldn't have bought our cute townhouse if we had a kid. Sure, we probably would have bought something else, but house hunting was horrible. The townhouse was literally the only home we could agree on, but if we had a kid, even it wouldn't have worked for us.

"It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone." - Rose Kennedy

I've realized, I will never fully recover from my heartbreak. But I don't think a person should. I feel like if I did recover completely, that would take away the value of it all. I can't ever forget it, it was too big a moment in my life. To forget it would lesson the memory of it all, the happiness and the joy, and I can't do it that dishonor. To completely forget is like making it so it never happened. 

It also helps me to remember, other people go through heartbreak too. And even if its not the same as mine, their pain is still just as real and valid. And that is something I can understand and relate to.  

No, I'm Not Pregnant

This is another article that really caught my attention.

http://www.whenathome.com/no-im-not-pregnant/

The first time I saw it, I didn't read it. I figured it would apply more to people still trying to conceive and it wouldn't apply to me. But when it kept popping up in my Facebook news feed over and over, I decided to read it.

I still feel like its written towards women trying to conceive, but I can't deny that parts of the article talked to me. It really is a great article to read, but I'm going to highlight my favorite parts and how it touched me.

"She walks around with a weight in her heart. A weight that no one (except other women going through the same thing) can understand."

That is my life. Infertility is always on my mind. I'm trying to come to terms that even if I accept I can't be a mom, it will never leave me completely. Some days are good, but other days are still hard. I'm coming to terms that I will always wonder "what if?"

"Her friends get pregnant and she is genuinely 100% thrilled for them. But she is also genuinely 100% devastated and fights off envious thought every day." 

I think if I could get friends and family to understand one thing, it would be this. I'm happy for you. I really, truly am. But at the same time, I am devastated that its not me. Even though we aren't even trying anymore. It still hurts. But please know, I am happy. I just have conflicting emotions that have to be dealt with.

"She will see her pregnant friends and have such conflicting feelings about their growing bellies that she might not know how to act around them. Not because she's mad at them for being pregnant but because she hates herself for being jealous of someone she loves so much."

This is almost the same as the above quote. I'm happy for you, but at the same time I'm jealous. Those who know me well know that I am an EXTREMELY jealous person. I get jealous if a Victoria's Secret commercial comes on the TV. That jealously also spills over into my infertility. We tried for so long to be parents. I'm going to be jealous. That doesn't mean I hate you or am mad at you. Its just a reminder that I can't conceive on my own. This is not your fault, just the facts.

What I hate is how this leads people to try to hide the fact they are pregnant. Its the big elephant in the room that no one will talk about. I've been in situations where someone will start to ask someone how they are feeling with their pregnancy, look up and notice me and just stop the conversation all together.

Not talking about it doesn't make it go away. I'm a big girl and I can handle it. Don't baby me because it just makes it worse. I would love for there to be a way you could acknowledge the happiness while also acknowledging my pain, but I don't think there is a way. Just don't ignore the fact around me. I'm 100% thrilled, 100% devastated and 100% aware of the fact you are pregnant but trying to pretend you aren't because I'm in the same room. You can talk about it. Don't be afraid to show your joy. Its YOUR pregnancy and you should get to celebrate that. If I need a quite moment to cry, I won't do so on your parade. I'll wait until I'm alone and deal with my emotions then.

I also have those thoughts each month when my period comes. I hate that about my body. HATE! I can't have a baby, but it doesn't stop my body from having periods. Some are just annoying, but some are down right painful. When I have those ones I think "Its not even worth being a woman. I should only be having this kind of pain if I can also reap the benefits of pregnancy. I shouldn't have to go through one without being able to enjoy the other. "

"Its not a race."

This one is really hard for me. (I'm sure I've touched on it before.) We were the first children married on both sides of our family. Therefore, society expected us to be the first to bless our families with grand kids. I once had a person approach me and congratulate me. When I asked him why, he said he had heard that my in-laws were going to be grandparents. It was painful to clarify that we weren't the ones expecting. This used to happen quite often. But, its just another part of my infertile life.

I still struggle with that fact we can't provide grand kids for our families. I feel like a failure to them. I feel like we are treated differently because of it. I can't help but think, if only we had kids then relationship would be different inside our families.

Watching the latest pregnancy has been hard for this reason. We are now the only ones in my husband's family to not provide his parents with grandchildren. This fact is eating me alive right now. Its all I dwell on. Some days I feel like this fact is crushing me and will bury me alive.

"Don't live your life in desperation and jealousy. It will eat your soul."

This is what I constantly work on. Like I said in my previous post, if I spend all my time thinking mothers are happier than me, all it does is make me miserable. And my life isn't miserable or unhappy. Sometimes, I just get caught up in the emotions of infertility and have a pity party. Its an ongoing battle for me, but I am doing the best I can.

Happiness

I have had so many emotions going through my head lately, but I seem to lack the follow through of writing about them.

I've started following more childless blogs and have loved them. But they will talk about something and I think, "Oh, I should do a post on that issue and my thoughts." But then I forget to do it and when I go to, I can't remember what I wanted to say.

I hope I can remember some of them because, at the time, they seemed very important to me.

I remember one was about an article trying to figure out if childless people were happier than people with children. I can't remember where I saw the article, or those who blogged about it. But I do remember some of my thoughts.

I don't think you can compare happiness between people who have children and people who don't. Its like comparing apples to oranges. One lifestyle is so different from the other, its just not possible.

I look at my life and I realize, I have no clue what my sister and sister in-law do for their families. I can't comprehend the homework, taxi service to games, cleaning, bed time stories, caring for sick kids, etc. Its something I've never had to do so its something I can't understand.

And I bet if I were to ask them, they would feel the same about my life.

Random fact: Josh and I go to bed at 8:00 at night. On the weekends, we stay up late, until about 9 - 9:30.

It doesn't happen often, but every once in a while, some random person will call our house at 8:30 pm and wake us up. My first response is "ugg, don't they know we are asleep?" But I realize, they probably don't because they are busy with their own lives. Its probably common for them to stay up until 10 each night. No wonder they don't know we are in bed already.

Let me clarify, its not because our lives are so boring we go to bed early. Both Josh and I have joined the gym and we like to go first thing in the morning. That means we get up at 4:30 each morning. That is why we are exhausted by 8:00 each night.

Another way I know my life differs is, I don't have to plan things out. On weekends, we can stay in our PJ's all day and do nothing. Or we can load up in the car and go take a quick, unplanned trip. Its the freedom that comes with our childless lives.

I don't think I'm any happier than my sister or sister in-law. But, on the other hand, I don't think they are any happier than me. Our lives are just too different to make that distinction. To imply that a life opposite of what you have is happier just seems down grading on the life you have. 

If you spend all your time wishing you had their lifestyle, than yes, you might start to think theirs is happier. But that's because you are focusing all your energy on the things you don't have.

My point is, you take what life gives you and you make it your own kind of happy.

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.

When there are no words...

My very dear friend lost her foster baby today. After raising him and loving him for five months, he is gone. This post is not about what may or may not be best for the baby. This is about how life sucks for her. I keep trying to think of the perfect words to take her pain away. But I know they don't exist.

I think her pain is worse then ours when were unchosen, because she got to hold this baby. Feed him. Rock him to sleep. He was her life for the last 5 months and now she has to go back to being, well, not the mommy. And that sucks. I keep thinking back to my pain thinking, "What took it away from us? What made it better?'

The problem is that there are no words to describe her pain and her loss. Therefore, there are no words of comfort I can magically say to make it all better.

Don't look for the time when it gets better cause you can't see that from here. I think the thing I hated most was the sun coming up the next morning. I thought the world should stop for my pain, but it didn't. Do what you can to survive and let healing come at the pace you let it. When others ignore your pain, try to not take is personally; sometimes they don't know what to say so instead they say nothing at all.

I love you B & K and I am so sorry you are going through this. Feel your grief as it comes and hold tight to each other.

Random Thoughts

1. One of the kids I used to babysit when I was young just had a baby. A few years ago, it probably would've made me cry. But instead, I just feel old.

2. Cramps are a *itch. Seriously. Why should I have to go through this every month since the main baby part doesn't work. Couldn't it all just "not work?" Right now I'm trying to remember why I take birth control so I can have a period every single month. Oh ya, back in November/December, my period lasted for 6 weeks. No cramps, but everything else. Not.Fun.At.All.

3. Yesterday I was browsing the Internet. You know how MSN and Yahoo, on the homepage, they give blimps of articles and news? I was looking at the MSN ones and saw one about infertility. I was kind of excited because I hoped it would help educate the world. I decided to click on it and see what they had to say. Deep down, my infertility still bothers me. Five minutes later I was in the bathroom trying to get a hold of myself and stop the tears that were threatening. Reading that article, which was well written, brought back a lot of emotions and painful memories. It was not fun to relive it. I guess infertility is something I will never completely get over. I was in a funk the rest of the day.

4. On the flip side, I've had a few friends finalize, or will soon finalize, and I'm so excited for them. Its nice to be at a point where I'm just happy for someone, without a side of jealous.

5. Love those nephews of mine. Can you say spoiled? On Saturday, I was in the city and I told myself I didn't need to buy them shirts, I already gave them stuff for Easter. So instead, I bought a box of bath toys. Yep, spoiled.

6. I got to watch Vanessa's boys for a few hours and loved every second of it. I hope to make that a regular thing. She has been so wonderful to let me be such a huge part of their lives. Valex is always excited to see me. I wish they could stay little forever.

Dedicated to my grandma

I recently joined an online support group for childless Mormon's. Its been wonderful to connect with others like myself. A recent email passed through the group and I loved it.

"I think the problem with praising women as mothers is that the way it is phrased. Trying to parse into more mathematical/logical basis
A=B, B=C, A=C
A woman is a mother.
Mothers should be praised.
Therefore a woman should be praised.

The problem is that A is often not true and so you get the question if a woman isn’t a mother, should she be praised? If a woman is not a mother, is she still a woman, or is she now something less, not quite human?" (Comment by tami — May 23, 2011 @ 9:39 pm)

"Non-mothers aren’t hurt that mothers are being praised, they are hurt about the assumption that woman must be mothers." (Meridith's addition to the above comment)

I have struggled so much with this. I wasn't a mother, so what was I? I felt like I was of little importance to others if I couldn't be a mom.

Here's my moment of truth. Bare and raw honest truth. Ever since my mother in-law and my own mother became grandma's, I have felt like they didn't need me anymore. I have felt like if I can't give them grandchildren, they will just brush me aside and forget about me.

In trying to protect my heart, I've acted out on this. It seemed easier to cut them out, before they cut out me. I didn't do it purposely, but on some mental and emotional level, I did what I thought best to protect my heart. I pulled back and tried to disappear.

I am blessed with amazing in-laws who didn't let me get away with that. They seemed to know when I needed my space. But they also seemed to know when I needed them to urge me back. I was constantly testing my relationship with them, but they never gave up on me. It has been such a relief to not fight against their love anymore.

With my family it has been different. It was easy to be involved at first. After all, my sister and I were both expecting at the same time. So even if I didn't get to give my family the first grand baby, I would be very close behind.

Then halfway through the pregnancies, we were no longer expecting. I couldn't find a way to co-exist while my sister was still expecting. It hurt too much to remember what almost was. When my nephew was born, I struggled so much. I felt like I was crying out, but was being ignored. I think now that I wasn't speaking the same language, in a matter of speaking. My absolute quietness was not me asking to be left alone (well, sometimes it was), but really it was a plea to be noticed. To be acknowledged. I didn't become a mother last summer, but I was still a person. I just wanted someone to notice that. Not acknowledge me as an aunt or anything else, but just acknowledge me and that I still existed. That I was still of worth somehow. I admit, I buried my heart deep, but it was still there.

This is where I dedicate this post to my grandma. I saw her last week for the first time in a long time. The last time she came out, my nephew was only days old. The same nephew that was 2 days younger then our almost baby. I wasn't stable enough to put myself in that position. So I didn't go see my grandma.

I knew she would be out for my nephew's birthday, and I was a little nervous. What would we say to each other? Would I even be noticed? I know it was a party for my nephew, not me. I didn't want all of the attention, I just wanted to be noticed. That's actually a big reason I agreed to make two full size cakes. If for no other reason, those cakes would get me noticed, even if for just a second. What can I say, I cry out for attention in odd ways.

Thank you grandma for noticing me. Thank you for spending so much time visiting with me. I agree that your great grandson is a cutie, but thank you for not evolving around just him. Thank you for asking about my weight loss, my hair, my job, my crafts, my husband, etc.

Here's another moment of truth. In years past, I would have let that visit be enough. But I felt so alive after that visit, that I made a point to go see her again the next night after I got off work. I think my 2nd visit surprised her just as much as it did me. Again, it was a wonderful visit.

I got home that night and noticed the change. I'm not scared of my family anymore. Those two visits gave me so much healing. Thank you grandma.

Ramblings of happiness

Since closing our profile, life seems to be amazing. I'm so glad we finally made the decision. I have joy in new ways and I just have a new energy for life.

I'm able to enjoy being around family again. It may sound harsh, but for a while, I didn't like to be around them. I didn't like seeing others happy when I was so miserable. But I've been able to find ways to share their happiness. I wasn't able to make it to all of Preston's t-ball games, but I made it to one and I'm going to his last one tonight. For a minute, it sounded like the game would be cancelled and I was heartbroken.

Josh's brother is dating someone pretty seriously. We all love her and hope he'll make her a permanent part of the family. In my depression days, that would've just upset me because another marriage means more babies. But now it means, more nieces or nephews.

I can't believe how much I love my nephews. When the pregnancy of the 4th one was announced, I told myself it was time to scale back on the gifts. Between me and Josh we have 5 siblings. Only 2 of them have started having kids so far and we're already up to 4 nephews. Even if each only has 2 kids, that is still 10 nieces and nephews. I go to buy a shirt, and 10 shirts later I'm forcing myself to check out. How will I manage as their families keep growing? I enjoy buying the gifts too much to stop myself. It brings me joy to give them something.

Earlier this year, I told myself I would just spend a set amount on each nephew for their birthday. And I was trying to set a limit for Christmas, but I don't want to. So I've decided, I don't need to. That's the great thing about being an aunt, I can spoil them however I want. And the added bonus of not being a parent means I have that much more to spend. I'm sure if we had children I would have to spend less on the nephews. I'd probably have to stick with just a small gift for birthday's and Christmas. But I don't have kids of my own, so I can spend my money elsewhere. I can buy them shirts for Easter and Halloween and just because.

We've always had the freedom of being just the two of us, but we didn't start to really use it until this last year. One day josh came home from work and suggested we go to Lagoon the next day. We didn't have to worry about kids and schedules, we could just go. On the way home that night, we got stuck in traffic behind an accident. We ended up having to get a hotel. At least we didn't have to worry about the kids staying at a sitters that night. Or trying to entertain them in a small hotel room.

This last Sunday we decided to get up at 4 am and go fishing. We stayed until we were tired and ready to go home. This weekend we are going to a Wii party. Those usually last until 1 am (or later). I love that we can all stay as late as we want because none of us have to rush home to the kids.

I've been scrapbooking a lot lately. I love that I can do that or any other craft whenever I want. You hear of people who have 3 kids, and just barely scrapbooked the birth of the oldest kid. I would've loved to have been able to scrapbook my own kids, but I do like that I will never fall that far behind. Well, ok, I am a little behind, but I'm almost caught up. I look at those pictures of family and nephews and it just warms my heart all over. I'm so glad I can have those memories preserved in pages forever.

I usually clean my house real good on Fridays. Then the rest of the week I slack. Its not a huge deal, because its just me and the hubs to get it dirty. But this week, I decided to try to clean a little each night. Here it is, only Wednesday, and already my house is clean. I can relax (and craft) on Friday! Laundry, I can do it in half a day. A full day when I wash bedding. Not many other people can say that.

I can sleep in late on days I don't have to work. I can stay up as late as I want. I can have cereal for dinner if I want. I can watch what I want to on the TV. I can exercise whenever I want. I can take long soaks in the bath on a daily basis. I'm starting to see all the finer points of living as a family of two and I'm really enjoying them.

Time to let go

The irony is not lost on me that on our almost baby's birthday, I was decorating a birthday cake, for a different baby. I've tried to forget the fact that I have a nephew 2 days younger then our almost baby. I try to not think about the things our baby would be doing when I know he is growing and learning in the same ways. I try to pretend that it never happened.

But it did happen. A year ago a brave young women gave birth and then placed her baby with a family and in doing so affected so many lives. Sometimes I feel guilty for my pain, because I know it is nothing compared to her pain. I tell myself I have no right to hurt because she was never really my baby. But the chance at... almost, does hurt.

I have kept so many things inside because I'm afraid to share. Afraid I'll offend. Afraid that it will make the pain even greater. But I want this 1st birthday to be my last day of mourning. I hope after letting it all out, I can turn around, look forward and never look back.

It was so hard to loose a baby, even if it wasn't one we naturally conceived. I have a new level of understanding for those who miscarry. Loosing a baby is like having your heart ripped out. And then the world just walks all over your broken heart because they don't understand just how much it hurts. We never heard a heart beat. But that didn't stop us from loving and dreaming about a little girl to join our family.

A month after being unchosen, my mom called to say my sister might have to go on bed rest. Might. All I could think was "well, at least she still gets to have a baby in June. Who cares about some bed rest?" I was so mad after that, that I couldn't go to the Josh's annual family breakfast or Easter dinner. I ignored plans for a baby shower because I didn't want to think about my own baby shower I would never get.

The Internet is wonderful and terrible all at the same time. I knew the day the baby girl was born. The next day I sat in church and all I could think was "This is my first day as not the mom." I cried silent tears that no one could see. The next day while a birth mom signed the papers to make someone else parents, my nephew was born. I went to the hospital, but all I could think was, "I shouldn't be here. I should be holding my baby in a different hospital." And no one knew how I was crumbling inside.

I had days where I couldn't get out of bed it hurt so much. When we were first unchosen, Josh and I were in a loving moment when suddenly we both just broke down in tears. We couldn't even enjoy a moment of joy because the pain was so strong,.

One day while doing dishes, I fell to the floor and just bawled. Life was so unfair. It wasn't even worth living anymore, not with this kind of pain. It was in its own way, a moment of wakening. I was deep in depression and I needed to change so I didn't sink lower.

After that, I tried to ignore the pain. She was never our baby after all, right? But that just made it worse. I kept things bottled up so long, that eventually they would explode out without notice. One day I spilled a drink and that seemed to unleash it all. A kicked bucket, a knocked over trash can and a broken toe later, I realized I couldn't hold it in.

Then my husband found a new job. An amazing job that made us both happy and paid a lot better then the previous job. But it was a job that took him out of town during the week. There were so many nights I cried myself to sleep because my house was so quite and so empty.

I reached the point where I realized I couldn't follow both of the two moods in my life. I couldn't grieve when alone and then pretend all was right when I was around others. I needed help moving through the grief process.

I thought only unstable people need therapy. I was too strong to need help. I read online of a few others experiences of infertility depression and how counseling helped them move on. But I still couldn't make myself admit I needed help.

When Halloween came and went and I didn't do my big Halloween dinner, I realized that I was stuck deep in depression. I couldn't even enjoy my favorite things anymore. I tried to get myself in the moment, but the thought of having a dinner with all those people there to look at me, I couldn't do it. I couldn't pretend to be happy.

I had become terribly afraid of people. I couldn't go anywhere. What if they asked questions? What if they didn't and ignored me? What if I lost it and cried? I had become a prisoner in my heart and therefore my home.

I finally broke down and made an appointment. Then I chickened out and cancelled a few days later. Only weak people need help. Then I went through another long week of tears. I wish I hadn't of waited so long to get help. I think things could have gone a little smoother if I had gone to counseling sooner. I wanted to go on anti depressants, but Josh didn't like the idea. I did make it through so I guess depression can be done without meds, but sometimes I wish I had tried them, it might have helped me be more stable in my moods. Counseling did help, but I've still been to afraid to admit that I needed it. Only a few people know about it. I didn't even tell work why I needed an hour off once a week.

Since finishing counseling, things have been better. I think I've only had two breakdowns since then, which is better then once a day or once a week. Both breakdowns happened at church. Its hard to go to church that is so strong on families.

One Sunday they were talking about death. It came up in Sunday School and Relief Society, so I got a double shot of it. Everyone was talking about how hard it is to loose a loved one, but how grateful they are for Heaven and how they know they can see them again someday. How they are grateful for the temple and that they are sealed together as a family. How they didn't understand how people outside of our religion get through a loss thinking they are dead and gone forever.

That's a luxury I don't get. I had lost a baby I loved and I will never get that back. Never. That is how my pain differs from a miscarriage. At least in a miscarriage I would get a chance to raise my baby in the next life, but it wasn't actually my pregnancy. I wanted to stand and how tell them I do know what its like. It is the most horrid thing ever to loose a loved one and know you will never see them again. Never.

The other breakdown was on Easter. Josh's family all lives in the same ward so I'm not usually alone at church. But that Sunday I was. I didn't know it, but my mother in-law was home doing farm chores and reading a book and my nephews were visiting their other grandparents. I didn't know that. I thought they were all together hunting Easter eggs. I was so mad that I wasn't there too. I will NEVER get that experience, why didn't they invite me? When we left church, Josh asked why I was so upset and I told him. He kept telling me that they probably got caught up in other stuff. And he was right, but by then I was so worked up that I couldn't get over it. Even though that afternoon we did help the nephews look for eggs at my in-laws, I was so distraught that I couldn't let it go.

Which really is dumb, because my in-laws have been so good to me. Through all of my grief, I've been able to build a better relationship with them. My grief that Sunday was for nothing because we did get to help the boys look for eggs. I've finally figured out the whole being an aunt thing this last year. I don't have to hold back because I don't have children of my own. I can find just as much joy through them. I can spoil them and then when they are stinky or whiny, I can hand them back to their parents. Not that they are ever whiny.

I was always afraid to love my nephews. I felt like if I did, I would be betraying my dreams of a child of my own. I felt like if I loved being an aunt, that would mean I didn't want to be a mom. I didn't think I could do both so instead I stepped back and did neither. I've learned over the last year, that I was wrong. I can love them fully and completely and it doesn't hurt. After so many years of struggling, I love being an aunt. I love those boys so much, I would do anything for them.

When we were first unchosen, we decided to step back and take a break from adoption. The more time that passed, the more we realized how much we enjoyed living as a family of two. We started talking about closing our profile. We would talk about it, but then not make a firm decision. After so many years of trying, how could we even consider it? I didn't want to feel like all our efforts were for nothing.

But the more we talked about it, the more we liked it. Slowly, we started to step away from building our family. I started by cleaning up the nursery and turning it into a craft room. A room I once hated and avoided became a sanctuary. Then I decided to start getting rid of the baby items. I sold the pack in play, the swing and the highchair and was relieved to get rid of them. I was afraid I might cry and regret it when the truck pulled away, but instead it was like a great weight was lifted off of me. Then I donated a bag of clothes to a friend collecting items for the women's shelter. Again it was easier then I thought it would be. Friends started announcing pregnancies and I experienced only joy and nothing else.

Last month we called LDSFS and asked them to pull our file. I will admit to one last moment of doubt. Josh and I discussed it that weekend and decided that we were ready and it was decided I would call the next day.  The morning was busy and I didn't get a chance. As I went to lunch, I told myself it would be a good time to call. Then I paused. Was I sure? One of the biggest hold ups was we knew once we closed our profile, we would loose the money we put down when we started the process. Four years ago that was so much money to us. Well, it still is, but at that time it was hard to save it up and then pay it.

But was I really ready to close our profile? I said one last frantic prayer and made a deal with God. I was giving him one hour. If we were meant to adopt, I needed a sign. I needed an email to appear in our adoption account. If there was an email, I would think about it more before closing our profile. Then I surprised myself by ending my prayer with, "if we are meant to adopt, I need an email. But I don't want there to be an email."

An hour later I called and asked them to close our account. That experience was weird. When we were unchosen, we asked LDSFS to put our profile on hold. Our status would remain active, but our profile wouldn't be viewable online. We asked a few times and it never happened. I got sick of asking and decided to just ignore it. Its not like we were getting tons of hits anyways.  I expected the same thing to happen when we closed our profile. Our profile was down within the hour. A process that took years of sweat, hope and tears was over.

We haven't regretted our decision. We put all our efforts into adopting. We jumped in with both feet. We did our best, but sometimes things just aren't meant to be. I wish I could get people to understand that. When we tell people we are no longer trying to grow our family, they act like we are giving up. They tell us to keep faith. To try again in a few years. I just shake my head, they'll never understand. We are happy with the way we are. Our family is small, but we are still a family and we love us the way we are. This has nothing to do with how young we are. This has nothing to do with us needing more faith. This is not about us taking a break and trying again when we are healed. This is about us choosing happiness.

Peoples reactions are why we've not made this a big announcement. We only tell people when they ask. But I'm ready for the world to know. My name is Savannah and my husband is Josh. We have been blissfully married for just over 10 years now. We love the life we have. We tried to have children through pregnancy and adoption, but sometimes it doesn't happen that way. There are other families that are just husband and wife. We are going to embrace life now.

I still question why it all had to happen. Why couldn't I have just been happy before? If we were meant to live as a family of two, why did we feel the need to try and adopt? After trying to adopt for about a year, we started handing out pass along cards with our info. Most people were confused. They didn't understand that the best way to adopt is to spread the word you are looking. I finally started telling people, if this doesn't lead to a baby for us, I hope it at least helps someone who is looking into adoption. If I could help just even one girl as she considered her options, it would be worth it.

I'll never know, but I like to think I helped a young women along her path. I bore my testimony of adoption in several emails. I hope that it was because of my example that she was able to make that hard decision. I hope that in all my efforts to embrace adoption, I was able to help her embrace it too. I think that was the reason I had to meet her. I like to think she needed help and I was there to give it to her. If that is the case, then I can say it was all worth it. I'm glad I could be there for her.

I'm still here

To post or not to post, that has been the dilemma. I start a post and then it becomes too personal so I end up putting it in my journal instead.

So I guess the short version is: most days are fine. For the most part, I am at peace. But infertility is not something you can ever recover from or get over, so that means I still have bad days. I will always have bad days. The problem is I only feel like posting on those bad days, but after writing out my feelings I can't share it.

I think of the "what if" occasionally, but not obsessively like I used to. The first Sunday in church after the baby was born all I could think was "I shouldn't be here." And it was so frustrating because no one knew. The next day I had to celebrate a birth, all the time knowing that the baby I had dreamt about was being placed in the arms of another couple. I hate how infertility makes you plaster on a happy face and pretend like nothing is wrong, even when you feel your heart breaking inside.

Now my thought only dwell on the "what if" when things are brought to my attention, so I avoid those situations. Some may call in denial (and they might be right), but I call it self preservation. I know what I can and can't handle and I don't push myself past that point. Its hard to establish that point, because it affects others, but I've decided my own sanity is more important then what they think of me.

A while back I realized that adoption is no longer my heart, at least not like it used to be. Adoption is a part of my heart, but not my entire heart anymore. I'm not sure what that means for our future. For now, we are okay with how things are. We're not sure what the future holds, but we are not going to worry about it. Our new motto is "Find joy in the journey...now."

Am I happy? Yes, I am. Josh and I have been able to take a great relationship and make it even better. Our family may be small, but we are still a family and we try to celebrate that every day. Each day I am amazed at how much our love has grown. Next month marks our 12th anniversary since our first date. Every day he amazes me. Because of him, my heart is full.

What if?

This year, Josh and I decided we would not attend the Families Supporting Adoption Conference. We have attended the last three years, and have loved it each year, but each year we've always thought, "next year we won't still be looking."

I thought I would miss it. I thought Friday morning I would wake up in a panic, pack a bag, head out to Layton and hope to find a hotel to stay in. But Friday came, and that panic did not set in. Sure, I missed it, but mostly I just missed the friends I have made there. The friends I met last year and planned to meet again this year. The friends I have made on-line this last year and hoped to meet in person while there this year.

We have reached a new level of peace in our family building. We are okay with how things are. Feeling like I could miss conference has just helped add to the peace I have found lately.

Two months ago I started a blog post, but it never got past the draft stages. Here is part of it:

"I'm tired. I'm broken. For now, I am done.

Done with the waiting. Done with the hoping. Done with the looking."

Most days I still feel broken. But that's because I am. My body doesn't work. As a woman, I'm designed to create babies, but my body won't let me. I guess because of that, I will always be broken. Infertility will always be a part of me. I have fought against it for years, but its something I will never be able to change. There are dreams that will never come true.

Some days, I feel the same about adoption. All the waiting. All the hoping. All the heartache. All the unanswered questions and unanswered prayers.

I'm tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of hoping. Tired of the unknown. Tired of the things I can't control or change.

A few months ago, we took on a new outlook on life. What if we never become parents? What if we are wasting all this time on something that may never happen. What if we loose ourselves so completely in the waiting game, that we loose each other? What about all the other stuff we've wanted to do with our lives? Things we can do now.

So what if we never become parents? Is that so bad? We married because we loved each other. That has never changed. We didn't marry each other because we thought we would make beautiful babies. We married because we wanted to spend the rest of eternity with each other.

What does all of this mean about our future family building? I'm not sure yet. I just know I am ready to start living a new way. I want to enjoy each moment. Not spend each moment going, "Nope, can't do/spend/plan that because what if we get chosen?" If it is going to be just the two of us, then we are going to live it the best way we can.

Today's Finding Faith Friday article has really helped me. Lately I have really struggled with the idea of birth grandparents. Not that I don't want them in our lives, I do. What is bothering me, is the thought of them talking their daughter out of adoption.

I know I can't truly understand how tough it must be for them. It must be hard when their child announces they are expecting. But I'm sure with the pain of "What if" and "Why now, like this" there is also the excitement. What parent doesn't get excited after hearing they are going to be a grandparent?

What kind of heartache do they face when their child announces they want to place their child for adoption? I'm sure most parents spend years dreaming about their someday grandchildren and to learn that their grandchild will be placed with another family must be hard.

Today there seems to be so many single mothers raising children and grandparents raising grandchildren. I have a hard time with that. Josh and I believe so strongly in forever families and the importance of a child having a mother and father in their lives. A child raised in a single parent home won't get those eternal blessings that we are striving so hard to provide. Grandparents shouldn't have to raise their grandchildren. They did that once, now their reward should be getting to spoil the grandchildren and then send them home for their parents to raise and discipline.

I should correct myself. I do see a difference between single mothers who conceive out of wedlock and single mothers forced into single motherhood by divorce or death. To me a single mother that chooses to raise her child by herself, loves herself more than her child. I do not feel the same about a single mother through divorce or death. They didn't choose those circumstances. Even in a divorce, I'm sure they didn't marry thinking one day they might have to do it alone. I admire those mother. They didn't choose to be single parents, but now that they are, they do their very best for their children. I know several single mothers (mostly through divorce) and I love and admire them.

I seem to have gotten off track. Right now I am not in an emotionally stable frame of mind when it comes to the birth grandparents. My deepest fear is that when we are chosen she will later change her mind because her parents talk her out of it. It happens all the time. I'm sure this is because they fear losing their grandchild. I understand that.

But I wish I could help them see the beauty of open adoption. They aren't losing a grandchild. They are gaining more family members that will do the very best for that child. They are gaining a loving, stable, environment for their grandchild to grow up in and a forever family in the eternities. There is nothing wrong with having more people love this child.

We are so excited about open adoption and we hope that both birth parents and their parents can be involved in our child's life. I look forward to inviting them to big events like birthday's and baptisms. But right now I am just terrified of them ruining our chances of having a family.

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Maybe I shouldn't even post this, because now I am scared of the backlash. Sometimes I have a hard time expressing myself.

Faith can move mountains

Even though 1 out 6 couples suffer from infertility, it is still a lonely world. It's hard to live in a world when babies continue to enter your life from every direction. It hard to trudge forward with your head held high, when you feel so misunderstood. It's hard to hope on the unknown.

It's just as hard to live as an expectant parent after being approved for adoption. In January 2008 our paperwork was approved and we became a waiting couple. We became expectant parents. We started our own, be it long and drawn out, pregnancy.

I try to not murmur about our trial of infertility. I've tried to remain positive and uplifting to those around me. I've tried to share my excitement, but that's hard to do when there is no end in sight.

Infertility and waiting on adoption is met with lots of advice.

*You just need to relax.

*Be patient, your time will come, it will happen.

*You need to have more faith.

Those three statements are what I dread THE MOST to hear. But they are what I hear the most often. But right now, it's the third one that is troubling me today. "You just need to have more faith."

I'm sorry, I didn't realize that we didn't have faith. Each morning I get up and check our adoption email account, hoping to finally see a message. Seventeen times now, I have opened my email to see that I have a new message. Seventeen times I have thought, "What if its another scam?" But, seventeen times I have clicked on new message hoping against the odds. Seventeen times I have been wrong, but I continue to check this email account on a regular basis. Is that not a sign of my faith?

Each day I watch couples with their children and each day I dare to think, "that will be me someday." Is that not faith? Each night I find myself in deep prayer. Praying for our birth parents; for their health, for their comfort, for their love. Each night I pray that our time will come soon that we will become parents. Is that not faith?

Each day I try to hand out our adoption pass along cards. Sometimes I am met with comments that they won't make a difference. Sometimes I am told it's a waste of my efforts. But I continue to hand them out! I feel that even if our cards don't result in a baby for us, if they help a young women choose adoption, than I am making a difference. Is that not faith?

Sometimes I dare to dream big and I start to talk about those dreams, only to to met by opposition. It comes in many forms, but always it is heartbreaking and I promise myself I will not subject myself to that again. And yet, faith lives on, and down the road I start to try to share those dreams once again.

I know these people mean well, and I know they don't mean to hurt my feelings. I know they say things out of love, I just don't hear it that way.

A week ago I took the biggest leap of faith in regards to our adoption. I told a girl we weren't the parents for her precious baby. Is that not faith? It is so hard to say no. It's hard to think that we could be parents now. But because of my faith, I knew it was what we needed to do. I said no, because I have faith that something better will happen to our family.

I have several friends who are exercising faith while they wait for their families to grow. One friend tried for 18 months to get pregnant. 18 months! I never once would have dreamed of telling her to have more faith. I've had friends struggle to get pregnant and then a few short weeks later have a miscarriage. Would you caution them to have faith? (If you would, than you are not a nice person.)

In our church we are taught that faith CAN move mountains. I've probably heard that a thousand times. And yet, I don't think I've heard that faith WILL move mountains. To me, that is a significant difference. Faith CAN move mountains. If a mountain needs moved, a person can have faith enough to do so. But I don't believe that any faithful person can just move a mountain after having faith to do so. That mountain will move if and when it needs to.

Infertility is our mountain. If my faith alone was enough, then I should have been able to become pregnant. But that was a mountain that didn't need to be moved. It could have, but instead it was a mountain I needed to go over. It's a mountain that needs to stay where it is. My faith could have moved it, but it didn't.

Our adoption wait is our next mountain. I have faith that this mountain can and will be overcome. I also have faith that it will happen on the Lord's timetable, not mine. Even though I continue to pray everyday for our child doesn't mean I lack faith. My prayers are ways of telling my Father that although I am still waiting, I have faith that it can happen. My prayers are said each night so I can feel the peace from my Father in Heaven. My prayers are NOT a lack of faith, rather they are a sign of my faith. If I didn't have faith our adoption would happen, I wouldn't pray for it.

I may get down at times, but I am not broken. Infertility didn't kill me and the adoption wait won't either.

Answered Prayers

A few months ago my prayers changed. I still kept my plea, "please let a birth mom choose us, and please let it be soon". But I could feel my self sinking and I needed something to change, to keep me from dropping down into despair. So in addition to my pleas for a child I also added, "please just let us know that we are at least being looked at."

After a few months, it felt like a repetition to my prayers, but I needed something to restore my confidence, something to let us know we were making an appearance in the adoption world.
Of course, with all prayers, the Lord knew when I would really need this prayer answered. Only He would know that I was strong enough to struggle on further. Only He could really see when I would need that answer.

Saturday night was just another normal night for us. Josh was grilling dinner outside and I was blogging online when the phone rang. A young woman was looking at Parent Profiles; she was looking at OUR profile. I was so nervous and found it hard to talk so I asked her to first tell us about her. What a delightful person who has been placed in such a tough place. She loves her little girl and wants to give her the world. She liked us because we looked so happy. I had a nice time visiting with her, and the excitement I felt was amazing. Could this be our little girl?

By the next morning we knew that this was not our little girl. It was heartbreaking. We knew that morning we needed to tell this brave young woman to keep looking for a family and yet it took us hours to finally write the email and then even a few more hours to send it. It's so hard to say no.

It was another learning experience for us. We still aren't sure when we will finally get to adopt, but we know that this wasn't our time. Josh said it perfectly when he reminded me we are looking for our child and if this girl isn't ours than we would be taking someone else's baby and that wouldn't be fair.

I never could have had the strength to say no if I wasn't so sure of the comfort and peace I knew my Heavenly Father would give me. I knew that when we said no, I would not be alone. I knew He would be right there to carry until I find the strength to move on.

I also remembered those prayers I have been sending heavenward for so long now. I thought I needed that answer months ago and even weeks ago. But this last week has been so trying. This past week was one of the times where for a brief moment I said, "I can't do it. I'm ready to give up." I don't have those extreme moments often, but when I do, my Savior is there to give me a push and a reminder that I can do this. I'm so grateful He waited until now to answer my prayers.

Taking a break from sanity to battle some demons...

*Warning, this is a LONG post. I've actually been working on it since May. I would get frustrated and add to it, then calm down and edit it some more. With the return of my recent demons I became determined to finish this post and hopefully be able to move beyond these issues.

I love telling people we are looking to adopt. I don't mind telling people that we are infertile, I can even joke about it (we have no sperm in our marriage!). But that's about all I can do. I wish I could find the words to describe our infertility, how it makes us feel, how it has changed us and how it affects our day to day life. Maybe if I could talk about it, then people could understand us better, why we have hard days, what causes them, why I sometimes get angry and why I sometimes (okay, all the time) get offended so easily.

A few years ago I dropped into a deep, dark place. I wasn't a mother and thought my life was over. What was the point of living if I couldn't be a mother? I wasn't happy. I would go days with endless crying and other days just feeling numb so I wouldn't cry. It was hard to function. When I was around people I was angry, mean, hurtful, (please continue this list as you like). I thought I could never be happy again, unless I was a mother, but who would give a baby to a bitter person like me?

One of the biggest things that helped turn my life around was joining some support groups. I started meeting other people like me. They too couldn't have babies, and therefore their dreams couldn't come true. I heard stories very similar to mine and stories that were more painful than mine. But I also gleamed hope and faith from these friends. They had found a way to move on with their lives and I could too.

Prayer, hope, faith, time and a loving husband are what pulled me through. I was able to find other reasons to be happy. I was able to restore my faith that I can still be a mother someday. I was able to repair some of the damaged relationships I had sabotaged. I was able to rejoice with my friends as I watched their dreams come true.

I have come a long ways, but infertility is not something you can ever recover from. It will always be a part of my life, it will always be my demon. I have reached the point where I can celebrate new births. I don't think I celebrate them as much as others do, but I no longer dread them. I no longer try to ignore them. I no longer fall apart when they happen. But even as I smile to welcome a new little life, silently my heart is breaking inside of me.

I think that is where some of the misunderstanding comes from. "She must be okay, or she wouldn't have come," is what I fear they say behind my back. But those milestones that pregnant women get to celebrate are road blocks that I have to navigate past. I'm okay that I can't get pregnant... until they start talking about the good moments like hearing the heart beat of the very first time, feeling them kick, seeing them move on an ultrasound and talking about their first moments in this world. Then my demons start to haunt me again.

When families around me started to grow and therefore things started to change, I became angry. They didn't do those kind of things before! They didn't own stuff like that before! I let this eat me up for a long time. I convinced myself that this stuff was happening because they loved these people more than us. It took me a long time to realize what it was really about.

Of course they didn't have toys or traditions like that before. They had no children in their lives before so what was the point. Of course things would change after babies started to enter the family, with those new additions came changes to how things were.

Each time I come to these new revelations, I just have to battle my demons. I just can't immediately accept these new understandings. They make sense and I know I should be okay, but I still have to fight my way to acceptance and peace. Sometimes it takes days and sometimes it takes weeks.

Entering into the adoption world brought so many insecurities. The first (and biggest) stress is, will a birth mom ever find us, fall in love with us, and choose us to parent her child? But those thoughts led to others and eventually I started to question EVERYTHING about myself. What do I know about being a mom? Why do I have to wait for someone to think I am good enough to raise a child? What if they don't like (insert odd quirks here) about me? What if we never get chosen? I'm not cool/pretty/smart/talented/etc. to be chosen. Why must the waiting be so long? Why must the waiting be so HARD?

I was thinking of those issues the other day and I am struggling to over come them. When we did our paperwork, the hardest thing to do was the birth mom letter. We had two pages to talk about ourselves and why we thought we could be great parents. We agonized over the letter and I think we rewrote each line about a dozen times. I kept thinking that if our families read it they would point things out that they didn't like.

After it was finished I had a few copies and a friend picked one up and started reading. My heart jumped out of my chest. I DIDN'T want her to read it. I couldn't understand why. I knew that strangers would be reading my letter and I was okay with it, but I was afraid of what this person would think. When we had family proof read it, I was terrified of what they would say. "That's not exactly true", "Why would you describe stuff that way", "Do you really do that?"

I also started to stress over what people would think when our family grew through adoption. Would they love our children just as much as they would have if they had been physically born into our family? What if biological children were loved more than our adopted children. I really struggled with this. My heart broke over the "what ifs".

Which leads to my newest battle. I just assume that people should care about how we are doing and that they should do something to show they are thinking about us. Then when that doesn't happen, I get mad and declare that I KNOW they don't like me. I have convinced myself that if people don't ask about our adoption, it's because they don't care and it has caused me such heartache. I know this isn't really true, but in my mind all I can hear is "they don't care about you." It may sound silly, but I have lost sleep over this.

After stewing over this for, well probably near to FOREVER, I realized something. Maybe it's hard to talk about the unknown. Maybe it's hard to speculate about something that isn't a guarantee. Maybe they don't want to get our hopes up and give us false hope. Maybe they DO care, but they don't know how to show it.

I've been stewing over this new concept for a few weeks now. It makes sense, or at least I know it should. But I think I have lived with this self doubt for so long that I can't shake it off yet. I've spent so long telling myself that no one cares that I think I have come to believe it. I'm trying to change my way of thinking, but those doubts creep right back in.

And yet each day as this battle goes on, I seem to gain a little ground. Sometimes its the actions of others that gives me understanding. Sometimes it is me, finally succumbing to the will of the Lord.

Sometimes it is a matter of sincere, deep, and long prayers just asking for this burden to be taken from me. I have felt those prayers being answered. I've had moments where I thought "what if..." Then I obsess over it. "If I could just have this experience, I would be okay." And yet I know those are experiences I can't have. So then I just ask for the desire to be taken from me. And it has worked. I'm not asking for the desire of motherhood to be taken, just moments, like hearing heartbeats.

Infertility is not going to break me. I am learning to live with it, learning to deal with the heartache it brings into my life. Some days it doesn't affect me and some days I still have moments where it paralyzes me, but I think I have finally reached the point where I don't revolve around it every waking (and sleeping) moment of my life. Infertility has become a part of who I am, but I don't need to let it be the only thing that I am.