The haunted pink room

Our home has three bedrooms; the master bedroom, the back room and the pink room. The back room is the smallest. For years it has doubled as my craft room and Josh's whatever room (i.e. hunting stuff, reloading stuff, etc.). I've tried to draw a line in that room to keep my side clean from his clutter. I've asked him to not put stuff on my shelf or table. My side stays somewhat organized. His side is a mess that slowly grows and finds its way to my side.

The pink room was just kind of dubbed the baby room, even though we have always called it the pink room. For years it has been a kind of, but not really nursery, and a overflow for when the back room gets full. At times it has been set up as a nursery with the pack and play, the swing, and the high chair set up. At other times those have been folded up and literally stuffed into the closet (they are too big, the closet doesn't close when they are in there). The pack and play has been used maybe 5 times in the four years we have owned it on the rare occasion that I was asked to babysit. And even then, once the mother brought her own pack and play with her. The swing has never been used, at least not for a baby. There have been lonely time where I would go in there and just turn it on and pretend. The high chair has gotten a little bit more use, but even then, not really. I'm tired of storing these items. I'm tired of having a room I don't use.

So its time to go in and knock down the cobwebs (both literal and imagined). But when I go in there, all I do is cry. Cry for what never was. Cry for what almost was. Cry for what most likely will never be. I've decided the room is haunted.

I went in tonight to start to gather a few things that I am donating to a friend for her Christmas Project to provide items to the women's shelter. A few years ago another friend gave me a HUGE garbage bag full of baby boy clothes. I thought I'd start by adding them to my donation pile. That was easy. Then I started going through the stuff I bought. The little boy and little girl outfits I bought because I was in the baby section buying something for a gift for someone else and I just couldn't leave without buying something for me.

And the blankets, oh the blankets I hold so tenderly in my heart. The first one is a cow one that I looked FOREVER for when we first decided to adopt. At that point we were thinking of just looking for a little boy and I was determined to decorate the room (which we would paint blue) in little farm animals. I looked all over the web and couldn't find anything I liked. So then I started looking at fabrics so I could have bedding custom made. Then one day on Ebay, I found it. It was PERFECT. When I got it, I set it up in the Pack and Play just so I could see it every time I went in the room.

Then when we were approved to adopt and our profile was published I bought matching John Deere Blankets in green and pink to celebrate. I bought the green one first on Ebay, but then I decided I needed a pink one too for just in case. (By that time we had decided to be open to any gender). The green blanket came with a little matching pillow. When the seller listed the pink set, it included a small receiving blanket along with the quilt and pillow. I emailed the seller and told them my situation and asked for if it would be possible to get a matching green receiving blanket. They told me if I was the winning bidder on the pink set, they would throw in the green blanket also. I was so excited about those blanket sets!  But they just sit in a box unopened and unused.

I am determined to get this room cleaned up and move my craft stuff into there. I would love to do it NOW but between the emotions and the pressure to finish up my Christmas projects it will probably have to wait. But I want to get it done just so I can get it over with. I've held on to this stuff to long. That's all it is anymore, just stuff. Stuff that seems to be holding me in a place I no longer want to be. I'm ready for the freedom that will come by letting go. In a book I am reading about infertility and moving on it said something to the effect of, as long as there is hope, there will also be pain. I completely agree. I'm ready for my life to move on.

Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

One of my dearest friends shared this excerpt with me from "Spoken From the Heart" by Laura Bush

"For some years now, the wedding invitations that had once crowded the mailbox had been replaced by shower invites and pink-or-blue-beribboned baby announcements. I bought onesies or rattles, wrapped them in yellow paper, and delivered them to friends. I had done it with a happy wistfulness, believing that someday my time, my baby, would come. George and I had hoped that I would be pregnant by the end of his congressional run. Then we hoped it would be by the time his own father announced his presidential run, then by the presidential primaries, the convention, the general election. But each milestone came and went. The calendar advanced, and there was no baby.

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held? "

Source: Spoken From The Heart By Laura Bush

Thanks for sharing this with me Beth!

Miscarriage vs. Unchosen

In a way, I used to be grateful I couldn't get pregnant. Because if I couldn't get pregnant, at least I would never have to endure the heartache of a miscarriage. Before we got Josh's results back, I lived in fear that I would find out I was pregnant, only to later miscarry. My periods are never regular, and even though I would remind myself of that, each time I would think "but what if its late this time because I really am pregnant?"

One such period was really late and then when it came it was so bad I was convinced I was miscarrying. It was so horrible. I won't share the details because they are kind of gross, but it seemed so real. One thing I need to learn is that my periods are never on time, never normal and most defiantly never the same.

That is why, in its own way, Josh's results were somewhat of a relief. I have never been pregnant which means I have never miscarried. I used to pray and thank God that I couldn't miscarry. I couldn't get pregnant, but at least I would never have to mourn the loss of a child through miscarriage.

Then I realized, I was an expectant mother and I lost a baby. I know its not the same as a miscarriage, but it feels like it to me. There was a baby that was going to become a part of our family. We had a name picked out and we were just starting to pick out nursery items when we lost our baby. So many hopes and dreams were finally coming true.

Its so hard to loose a baby. It hurts so much. After so many years of waiting we were finally living the joy of expectant parenthood. My husband told me daily that I was glowing and I knew he was right because he was glowing too. I learned that expecting a baby is the highest of high, head in the clouds, kind of happiness. And losing a baby is the lowest and deepest hurt of all hurts.

One of the hardest parts of a miscarriage is the silent mourning. No one seems to understand just how hard it is. They try to reason that there wasn't actually a baby so how can there be a loss. That is something which haunts me the most. I lost a baby! Couldn't some of the closest people in my life acknowledge my loss and how hard it was on me? Their feelings seem to be "just get pregnant again" or "just get back out there and try to adopt again."

It was so hard to mourn because I didn't have some thing physical to direct my grief towards, like a funeral and a monument like mourners have when they loose a loved one to death. But it was so real. I loved that little baby. I had no control to keep her in my life. And there is no way to replace that specific baby. If your husband dies, you don't just go out and marry the first man you meet so you can replace him. Even if you find another man, fall in love and get married, it doesn't replace the your first husband. It is the same when it comes to a miscarriage. You can't just have another baby, that doesn't replace the one you loss. You could have 10 babies, but they all still couldn't replace the loss of the one you lost. There is a hole that will never fully heal in my heart because of my loss.

Now each time I hear of a friend miscarrying, my heart cries out in anguish, because I know how real that loss is, how much it hurts, how devastating it feels. When I try to find the right words of comfort, I realize, there are no words that can be said to make this all better. But I still try because I have to. I have to let them know how I hate that it happened to them and how unfair it seems. I have to let them know I love them and care for them.

Miscarriages are real. And loosing a baby is so painful, so hard.

Waiting for the wind

A dear friend and I were emailing back and forth yesterday about National Adoption Month which of course led to talking about being unchosen. She also has felt the pain of loving a birth mom and her baby, only to have things change. Its a stinging pain. Its a pain that I am learning lessens with time, but still has its moments where it flames up and you feel like it might consume you. I've been focusing mostly on the good memories and rereading some beautiful emails that were my lifeline a year ago. But its so hard to stop the reminiscing there; its hard to remember just the good parts of a story that has a sad ending. But I digress.

In our conversing, my friend said something that I really liked and I wanted to post it so I don't forget it.

"Play it by day by day and see how you feel. You'll either get a 2nd wind to jump in again...or you'll feel the wind blowing you somewhere else. Either way, everything turns out all right in the end."

That is exactly how I feel right now. The wind isn't really blowing me towards adoption right now, but it also isn't really blowing me away from it either.

A year ago...

A year ago we got an email. At first I thought it was simply another scam. We had seen plenty of those. I was at work when I saw it, so I called Josh to tell him about it. I remember telling him, "Its probably just another scam, but we got an email from Parent Profiles." She had mentioned her due date and in my rush to prove it a scam I did the math, and it was off. But then I decided to turn the calendar to the due date and count backwards 40 weeks. The math was on perfectly. After that I started to hope.

After calming myself for a minute, I sent an email back. Then very impatiently, I waited for a reply. Each hour felt like a week! Finally after 5 LONG hours, I got a reply back from Parent Profiles. Apparently you don't send replies through them. You have to click on the email address from the sender instead of just hitting reply. So I had to send the message again.

After that it just seemed to be a whirlwind of emails. An unbelievable dream. We had finally met someone! She was beautiful and kind and perfect.

A year ago was one of the happiest days of my life. Which really was perfect because a year and a week ago was one of the worst days of my life. C helped me through a hard time. C gave me hope again. C's emails meant the world to me.

Today I'm not going to think about our sad ending. Today I am going to think of the happy beginning and how it changed my life. Today is going to be a good day because a year ago I had a good day. :)

Birds and Bees can't always make babies

Go HERE to learn more.

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.

Glad June is over

I wish I could find the right words to express the feelings in my heart. Some days are good. In fact, I seem to have more good days then bad days now. But I still have those sad days. Days where I feel like I cry non stop. Sometimes I don't even know why I am crying.

I was so glad when June ended. What a horrid month, I don't think I will ever enjoy that month ever again.

Its become hard to post on this blog. I only feel like posting when I am down. I don't want this blog to become a depressing blog.

If they only knew

So hard for so many reasons. It just seems to surround me from every direction. I'm sure right now I must act like the most uncaring person, but why can't they see my pain? Why do they ignore me when this is the most painful thing I have ever gone through? I fear I will suffocate from all of it and they won't even notice I'm gone. They ignore my pain and in my anger, I push away from their happiness. They don't want me. My unhappiness is a burden to them.

And yet a ray of love from an unexpected direction. Of all the people to take notice of me right now, she was the last person I expected. Which just further proves, she really is an amazing person. I can't believe that while her own heart is breaking, she would think of me.

At least I have my husband. My friend. My protector. My everything. Without him by my side, I would be totally lost. He is the reason I live each day the best I can, even when my best is so little.

I thought after it all happened, it would start to get better.