The Best news!

I will be putting together a more thorough adoption story, when I'm ready to share it all.  But with the bustle of the holidays and the business of a newborn, I'm not sure when I will have time.  Furthermore, it's so precious right now, I just don't even have the words to describe our wonderful adoption experience.  Beyond thankful - I will say that much. 

Men in the Arena (Humanity: Adoption Love Link-Up)

The Adoption Love Link-up is a neat blog I found through the community of wonderful people adopting.  She asks a question each month and other bloggers can answer it and she links those blogs to her page.  The question this month is how did our experience with adoption affect our view of humanity?  This dovetails nicely with what I have been wanting to write about for a while - how I feel about birthmothers - and so here's my take...

So, how has our adoption story affected my view of the human race?  Well, let me give some history.  I have actually considered adoption since I was a teenager.  It began when I realized how strongly I felt that life began at conception.  But I also knew that our society needs real alternatives that work for women in crisis.  I believe adoption is one such answer.  I wanted to be part of the solution, and so, I imagined a future where I might adopt.  This was further nurtured when I visited Africa and met so many orphans.  I wasn't ready yet, but I really wanted to take a child home and give him a better life. 

Of course, infertility and recurrent miscarriage were never part of that dream.  When my husband and I met, we talked quite a lot about adoption and he was on board with the idea... after we were done having biological children.  It would be at a comfortable time of our lives, when we were in charge of our destiny.  It would be on our terms.  We just never expected it any other way. 

Five years later, my story of adoption and recurrent miscarriage are now inextricably linked in a beautifully complicated way that I never anticipated.  Our choice to adopt is a lot less to save the world or help the helpless, than it is to grow our family in the best possible way.  After five consecutive miscarriages, adoption was the obvious choice for us.  

I think most people agree that adoption is a loving option from the vantage point of the adoptive parents.  We're opening our hearts, home and families to someone without one.  It's one thing to say that adoption is a beautiful choice but it's another thing entirely to actually do the hard work of a home study, spend thousands of dollars, wait months or years, and to make all the other sacrifices that adoption entails.  The parents who I've met, whether in person or via the internet, who are on an adoption journey are kind, enthusiastic and brave, in an inspiring way.  

Furthermore, the support that my husband and I have received through our own adoption journey has been overwhelming.  Friends and family, coworkers and acquaintances have all been joyful when they've heard our news.  In most instances, they've been empathic and supportive in all the right ways.  It's been a wonderful blessing to my husband and I.  

But the most impressive part of humanity, by far, are the birthmothers.  It's interesting, when you're first starting off on your adoption journey one of the first things you have to do is write a letter to a prospective birthmother.  In that letter, the agency encourages you to tell her how brave you think she is.  And so our letter talks about just that.  And when we wrote it, we meant every word of it.  Of course we did.... we meant it honestly from our perspective; in the lustful dreamy way a teen tells her first boyfriend that she loves him.  Now, as we have actually met a birthmother who's chosen us to raise her baby, we mean it when we honor her courage in a much bigger way.  We mean it like a woman married for ten or twenty or maybe even fifty years means it when she says she loves her husband.  That love embodies a complex person and process, for all that's beautiful and all that's ugly in it.  That love knows it's worth and cherishes it, in a way that the giver of the love never even knew was humanly possible before.

The woman who shares her child through adoption is truly one of the most courageous women out there.  Could you or I do what she has done?  I am not sure I would be that brave.  In a crisis pregnancy, adoption is surely the toughest choice.  And yet, she makes a selfless decision for the best interest of others; her baby and her adoptive parents.  She deals with a great crisis in the most brave and beautiful way there is.  She is admirable.  

She reminds me, actually all the parties in adoption remind me, of the Man in the Arena, which you may be familiar with. 

Man in the Arena by Teddy Roosevelt, quoted here by Brene Brown:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

By being there, in the arena, marred by dust and sweat and blood, birthmothers are vulnerable and generous at the same time.  Adoptive parents, who've often suffered through miscarriage and infertility, open themselves up again in a risky way ultimately have the privileged of knowing "great enthusiasms".

The men and women in the arena that I've met through adoption inspire me. 

Stomach flop

There isn't much that "gets me" anymore.  I feel as though I have healed up from the hurt of recurrent miscarriage, and am so thankful for that.  (Of course, I am forever changed; but healthy again.) Furthermore, I'm a big believer in the power of positive thinking.  I am not a fan of those bloggers, writers on social media, or even just people in plain old conversation, who have a complaint about everything.  Like many of you, I'm getting tired of hearing about the latest thing that's offensive to someone else.  Sometimes, it seems like we have to constantly walk on eggshells.  

On the other side of the coin, however, sometimes I know the complainers are doing a public service.  I know from my experience with blogging, that sometimes I have been able to speak for others who aren't able to speak for themselves.  Most of the time they are just still too hurt to articulate themselves (or sometimes they are just too polite).  

So what's my point?  

Nothing continues to upset me like "gender reveal" announcements.  

Not that these parties, or social media announcements are in and of themselves evil.  But, I'm being honest here, they make my stomach flop. 

Maybe it is just me... let me give you the background here - just after I miscarried the first time (I was 16.5 weeks that time and my baby had Trisomy 18) - I was at work and a friend of mine was excited to see me. She immediately shared her story and pictures of her gender reveal party with her pregnancy.  (There was a bunch of family and friends and PINK everywhere!  Pink icing, Pink balloons... I think Pink balloons may have come out of a Pink cake?)  If I had still been pregnant, I would have been further along than she was, and throughout the whole conversation, I just held back the tears.  She didn't know I had recently suffered one of the biggest devastation's of my life, and she didn't recognize I was saddened by her story, because she was just so excited and enamored with her big news.  It really wasn't her fault, she didn't do anything wrong, but my heart sank nonetheless and I felt sick to my stomach.  Certainly it is less dramatic now, but that sensation has truly stuck with me. 

So, maybe it's just me. 

Interestingly, when I was pregnant the first time (just four short years ago) the typical timing to find out the gender of one's baby was at the 20 week (5 months) ultrasound.  Now, there are genetic tests that are widely available at 12 weeks (still first trimester where miscarriage rates are 1/3 - 1/5!) which can give this information.  In addition, highly sensitive ultrasounds are being done earlier and more often in pregnancies here in the US and parents are finding out sooner the gender of their precious cargo.  

Keep in mind, I'm speaking as a person who has never actually attended one of these parties.  My suppositions and judgements (yes, I'm being judge-y here) are from my broken (and potentially jealous) perspective based on my view of social media posts and stories alone. 


Mostly, the topic of gender reveal parties bothers me because I feel like it's the epitomy of our aggrandized first world society.  Often times, it doesn't look to me like it's the miracle of human life being celebrated.  I feel like it's a modern creation of one more reason to throw a party and check out pinterest.  Which, again, is not inherently evil.  In fact, I'm all for celebrating the small victories.  I just think we should focus on what's truly important, which is our growing family and the miracle of pregnancy, not pink onesies or tiaras.  Furthermore, I am not sure a gender reveal party is best shared with the whole (social media) world.  And, I wonder how wise it is to broadcast your celebration in this way when the baby isn't viable yet.  When the baby has four, five (or even six!) more months to grow inside you.  I understand wanting to know the gender and sharing it with family and friends.  I've done that too.  I recall everyone asking if "it" is a boy or a girl.  I know the desire to call him or her by name, even when he or she is not fully developed.  And, I absolutely believe in the child's person-hood even when previable.  But, I think we should each be part of a world and part of a society where we appreciate how complicated the miracle of life is.  We shouldn't take it for granted; and the very nature of the gender reveal party feels to me like it's taking for granted.  It looks like a boastful luxury, to me.  

In many parts of the world, a woman has NO access to ultrasound technology.  I once diagnosed twins on a woman in Costa Rica via doppler.  (Of course she was devastated, wondering how she would afford to take care of one, let alone two, babies.)  

Even in our part of the world, many parents lose their children even after they know the baby's gender.  Some of our friends never even get the luxury of seeing two pink lines.  The layers of loss for these women and men are deep.  On the surface it may seem trivial, but the joys that many take for granted are sources of heartache for some others.  Creating even more potential layers for loss for families with infertility just seems unfair.  

Now, I'm a firm believer that everyone who's pregnant deserves to enjoy the celebration of a baby shower, gifts from friends, and parties in her honor.  That's also a first world creation, but I understand and support those celebrations, because babies are indeed worth celebrating over!  We are fortunate to live in abundance and I absolutely love showering others with generosity during the exciting time of family growth!  I just think that these advertizements are one of the many ways in which social media does more harm than good, and I think gender reveal parties, and especially pictures of said parties, would be better left off the world wide web. 

In summary, healed though I may be, seeing pictures of gender reveal parties on social media hurts me.  

And, I doubt it's just me. 


[Consider this your public service announcement of the day ;)]

Adoption Bloggers

http://www.jkadoptionlove.com/p/adoption-love-link-up.html


If you're looking for some great adoption bloggers, to hear stories or be inspired, this is a great place to start!

Worth the Wait

Although I'm not superstitious at all, it's been about a month since we've been matched, and I've been anxious that posting about it might be a jinx of some sort!

It's surreal and fantastic, and yet still somehow shrouded in a slightly uncomfortable layer of caution.  As is typical for me, I'm realistically optimistic.  I know, just like with my pregnancies, that there's a chance it won't work out.  Actually, 20-30% is probably a fair estimate for both.  And, I suspect if we do have a disruption, it will be even worse than the miscarriages.  But, I'm more hopeful than I was in my last few pregnancies, and I don't really feel like apologizing for that.   As has always been true through this journey, there have been a number of unusual, awkward and also plenty of joyful interpersonal conversations.  For instance, when I told someone and their response within two sentences included words of caution over "not getting too excited because these things fall through so often."  I thought immediately that if anyone ever said that to a woman in her second trimester that they'd get slapped across the face, and I resented that after all I've been through, that people still feel the need to warn me about how these things can go wrong.  Believe me, between my husband and I, we've dreamt of dozens of different heartbreaking scenarios, in addition to the fact that we've actually lived through a few minor heartbreakers ourselves.  We know these things can go wrong.  I have been guarded for long enough, I think I deserve to be hopeful now.

So this process of being matched with a woman in her second trimester isn't exciting in the exact same ways as being seven months pregnant oneself is.  But, as I read a favorite blogger I follow, where the longing of waiting for an adoption match feels so painfully palpable, I remember dimly that stage which was present in my life just one short month ago as if it were already a lifetime past.  I realize how free I have felt since we've been matched with our birthmother! 

I'm effortlessly happy.  About fifteen months ago, when I first began this blog and was actually unknowingly pregnant for the sixth time, I felt I was on the verge of a major depression.  Through God's grace, this blog, seeing a therapist, and having the most wonderful partner a girl could ever ask for, I've felt for at least nine to twelve months that depression is no longer a concern.  I have felt mentally healthy. 

[And let me say again, that the voice that this blog gave me was empowering and truly helped me recover in ways I never imagined.  I thank you, yes you the individual and you the collective, you who suffer in similar ways and you who are just simply empathic, you helped rescue me from depression.] 

And although I have felt with confidence that I was not depressed for these past several months, I now feel so differently than I did just one short month ago.  The only way I can really explain it is that it's effortless.  I don't have to work to be mindful as much as I did before.  I haven't had to consciously remind myself that this will be worth the wait.

Now, I know it will be worth the wait.  No, our wait is not over, but what remains of it feels weightless.  The light at the end of the tunnel has become visible and that has changed how everything around me looks.

One of the first ways I celebrated our news was by taking down some of the old decorations I've been hoarding in the nursery.  Three years ago when I was pregnant for the second time, I knew with a mother's intuition that I was carrying a baby girl, and with that started purchasing some decorations with a peacock theme.  I've held onto these, or should I say, latched onto them, tighter and tighter as the months have passed in anticipation and longing.  When we were matched, we were fortunate to find out that our birthmother is carrying a boy, and although I know there are no guarantees, I felt completely different about that old décor.  I actually moved it to our fireplace mantle in our family room.  It's beautiful stuff that I love and I am so happy we are finally using it.  It has a purpose now.  I had also bought peacock cards and am thrilled to finally be using them as thank you's to our supporters. 

Prior to this past month, I didn't see those decorations as burden, but now that they are on my mantle, I feel an uncanny sense of relief.  I suppose they were a burden I wasn't consciously aware of.

Finally, one of the most interesting "tells" is an intimate detail that hopefully won't be too weird for you to read -- it was recently when that time of the month came around...  I think I can say without exaggeration, that this past month was the first time in three years that I did not wonder, not for one second, during the days preceding, if I might be pregnant.  It just never crossed my mind. 

What a liberty.  I am free. 

Among the countless things I'm grateful for this month, one of the greatest is this sense of weightlessness.  This new freedom - thank you, God.  Thank you, birthmother. 

As is true with all superstitions, I know this post won't directly impact our adoption's outcome either way.  Nevertheless, I'm not sure how much more I'll write as we prepare.  (Although I do have one more post in mind about the incredible courage a birthmother who chooses adoption must have in her heart.)  I suspect there won't be much to say as these last months pass.  But you can be certain, that while I wait, there's the hint of an easy smile on my face; and I'm so thankful for that. 

We are God's masterpiece

I just had to share this wall art decal I just made on http://design.wallpraise.com/ where you can make a custom vinyl decal.  The webpage says you should use Firefox and this is correct, the fonts don't come through right on the typical browser.  But if you download Firefox it works easily and quickly.  Sorry the resolution of the picture isn't better, I couldn't a screenshot to take. 

 

At any rate, I stumbled upon Ephesians 2:10 during my son's vacation bible school a couple of weeks ago.  They did the "Weird animals" VBS theme and he loved it.  One of the animals was associated with this scripture and although I hadn't previously had this as one of my favorites, I instantly thought, what a perfect scripture for an adopted child! 

 

I know their life, just like mine, are an intertwined masterpiece designed by God. 

We're actually rewriting our "Dear Birthmother" letter to incorporate this line!

The View from Below

Waiting for an adoption is like hiking the Grand Canyon. 

Mind you, I haven't completed either, but from my modest experience with both, there are some shocking similarities. 

For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, hiking the Grand Canyon is wondrous.  Yes, the canyon looks beautiful from above.  Truly, one of the great wonders of our world.  A masterpiece of God's creation.  Definitely should be on your bucket list if it isn't already. 

My husband and I hiked a few miles of the Bright Angel Trail ~ past the 3 Mile Resthouse but not all the way to the Indian Gardens (which had been our goal), and it was the most memorable hike of my life.  It was also the hardest.  Of course, we were there in June and if you weren't already aware, the temperature goes up as you go down into the canyon.  At one of the thermometers we saw it was 117 degrees!  To sum it all up, we turned around early and were more exhausted than I ever remember being in my life.  Interestingly, we had seen many signs warning us of the hazards of the canyon and advertising the deaths that had occurred in the last year.  The very real danger was something the locals wanted us visitors to appreciate.  But it was weird to read, and unbelievable to us ~ a young invincible feeling couple ~ but of course it was true.  However, we believed it when we reached our nadir in the canyon (who knew going down could be so hard?!).  It was even more believable when we reached the top at last... and that night as I struggled to walk to dinner. But, it was worth it because the view of the canyon from below is even more fantastic than it is from above.  I don't have many pictures, but here is one where you can appreciate how different the vantage point of depth is from below.  Here, we were only a mile down or less.  I can only imagine what it looks like from the Colorado River!  It's got to be glorious!  (That is on my bucket list for some time in the very distant future.) 

So... What's this got in common with adoption? 

Well, adoption looks beautiful from the top, right?  Particularly from my family's vantage point, it's a generous solution to an otherwise unsolvable problem.  It seems to be part of God's design; however hard to understand.

But then you actually go on the sweaty, gritty, hike of adoption.  Although the challenges of adoption are written up in pretty good detail, not too dissimilar from the sign above from the Bright Angel Trail, the exhaustion that incurs on this hike is just as unbelievable from an adoption's onset as it was at the canyon's rim.  Much the same as before our trek down the canyon, we just didn't believe it would be that hard. 

 

We (deliriously!) thought we'd be somehow more visibly worthy of a miracle child than the next couple.  We thought, correctly, that the challenges of adoption would be easier than the threat of a sixth miscarriage.  But, of course, we haven't forgotten the parts of our journey that happened before we signed the adoption contract.  Although some might say we haven't been on the "list" for that long, in my book, the time spent longing for another child includes both the consecutive miscarriages as well as the wait of the perfect adoption match.  I can't really separate those waits.  And while Isaiah 40:31 encourages me, "But those who wait on the Lord Shall renew their strength... they shall run and not be weary..." I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I've been growing weary.     

Unscathed, we press on.  (Yes, the analogy falls apart with the reported deaths on the Trail, there are certainly no reports of death by adoption... although I'd bet there is some marital strife for many... and I'm thankful we haven't had many major struggles there...)

Adoption continues to ask of us an inner endurance that tests my heart.  My daily prayer has been, "I trust You... but I want it now!"  And I laugh at myself, but I pray it again. 

Today, I pray that I'm in the third trimester of adoption.  I pray it's "any day now."  I remember fondly, how my labor with my son began - two days after my due date - with utter surprise, and I long for that day again.  I dream about 'match day' or 'gotcha day' and hope they're not far off. 

Truly, the view from this vantage point along the hike is beautiful.  I'm dependent on God in a way I probably have never been before.  The bond with my husband is stronger than ever, and I'm reminded of the sermon preached at my wedding regarding Ecclesiastes 4:12, "Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." 

The Great Wait, as one blogger I know calls it, is exhausting.  It rivals medical school in the delayed gratification category.  But I know, it will be worth it. 

When that day comes, I suspect none of this will even matter.  I bet I won't even really remember how it feels.  Which is part of why I wanted to write this today.  Because (hopefully soon) I will be one of those (annoying) people who can't remember how tiring this is ~ in very intangible, yet real ways.  And I don't write this to secretly snip at friends who haven't been attentive enough, there is no subtext here.  I just want to share, not so much for those of you out there who know and love me, but for those of you who might be struggling like me, that this is hard... you're not crazy... I feel it too. 

Lately, I've gathered strength from Philippians 1:6.  I took this picture at sunset over the Grand Canyon and I love the shadows through the expanse of the canyon.  Yes, adoption may be the longest hike of our lives, through unpredictable challenges and exhaustion that drags on, but I'm confident God has a plan for us and that it'll be worth it.