Our Adoption Journey



Our adoption journey isn't over, it'll undoubtedly be part of our whole lives.  But when did it begin?  I remember walking the sidewalks of my neighborhood, late into the evening with my Labrador mutt on the leash, debating by phone with my boyfriend all of life's great questions.  We discussed everything from Mary as an intercessor to adoption.  These are both examples of things I brought up in hopes that my future husband would agree.  These late night conversations made our long distance-while both in residency-relationship interesting and manageable.  We continued talking about adoption occasionally after we got married as well. 

After two years of marriage we tried for two months before successfully conceiving our son.  My pregnancy with him was normal by all definitions.  Having dreamt of a family with a few children close in age, and anxious to get through the child bearing years before I turned 35, we were pregnant again when our son was about 7 months old. 

Almost immediately after our first miscarriage (fall 2011, trisomy 18 at 16 weeks), I began to really look into the details of adoption.  We didn't talk much about the 3 main paths to adoption, we already knew that for now domestic newborn was the route we were most comfortable with (at this stage of life).  A coworker and friend of mine had adopted her son who was born the day before my first son almost a year prior.  She had used Adoptions from the Heart and I remember looking into their informational classes.  Intimidated by the need to put in my personal information and register for a simple informational class, I don't think I got much farther.  That same friend did share an abundance of information and we began learning a little, nevertheless.  We learned about the birthmother letter, homestudy process and the tax credit.  Wow adoption is expensive, and it takes a long time.  I recall those take home messages pretty clearly.  I felt the two to three year wait for an adoption to be complete was more than ample time for me to be pregnant and carry one or two more babies to term.  I did not want to wait.   

Since we seemed to be "fertile," albeit unlucky, adoption went on the back burner.  About nine months later we had another miscarriage (summer 2012, 6 weeks never saw on ultrasound) and I think the above events were replayed almost exactly. 

Another year later, we began trying again.  We had taken time off for a friend's destination wedding in the Dominican Republic.  It had been a good time off, we continued with Natural Family Planning throughout that time to avoid pregnancy.  Through NFP we learned a lot about ourselves and each other, and again it seemed clear that I was ovulating almost every month. 

Winter into spring of  2013 brought three miscarriages in seven months (trisomy 13 at 9 weeks, unknown cause at 8 weeks [both had been seen multiple times on ultrasound] and then a blighted ovum at 7 weeks).  During this time it became clear that something was wrong with me - but, my husband and my Karyotype were normal, as was my antiphosoplipid antibody screen.  We knew my uterus was normal, and the unusual different series of miscarriages were not typical of any particular disease or problem.  Our case was discussed by our OB with a Geneticist without progress. 

We never pursued further fertility workup, because we knew what would be suggested - IVF.  Although we have several friends who've grown their families with this option, we doubted it would work for us (having had at least two trisomies already) and we weren't comfortable with the moral implications or questions we might have to face, should we go down that road. 

So this path led us again to adoption.  As I said, it's something that had been on my heart since I was a teenager and my husband and I had discussed it since we were dating.  Of course, back then it was always discussed under the guise of the greater good.  Now, it seemed the only viable option to grow the family we had always dreamed of.

Turning again to the local agencies, we began to fill out paperwork for Bethany Christian Services.  This time, we were pretty serious about getting information.  Simultaneously, I began counseling for the stress and anxiety that five miscarriages had brought upon my psyche.  Shortly thereafter, I also began blogging ~ something I'd dreamt about doing for the full two years where my family plans had been unmet. 

But back to Bethany, I know they have a wonderful organization that builds families, but our experience with them was limited.  I remember coming to the bottom of their questionnaire.  I was already frustrated because we couldn't even attend an informational class without filling out this two page form.  And then the last question stumped me, "Describe the child that might fit into your family?"  How could I answer this question?!  My husband and I were on the same page that we needed to seriously discern adoption but the infinite number of other questions that this led us to were what was holding us back.  The question above seemed impossible to answer.  I wanted to say that I wanted a baby from an upper middle class Caucasian family with a petite wife and handsome husband with college degrees and no medical problems....  I wanted a biological baby!  

Biology gives us the illusion of control over the thousands and millions of variables that go into a healthy child being born into this world.  Although it's only partially true and probably unfair, my inner dialogue went something like this: My genes got me into medical school.  My personal choices during my first pregnancy, brought my first son in perfect health into this world.  In adoption you control neither the gene pool nor the choices of the woman who's uterus the baby grows in.  This is what makes adoption such a great leap of faith.  And it's what many couples stumble upon as they near adoption as a choice for their families.  It's tough. 

Of course, what we came to realize over time is that our gene pool is far from perfect, everything from asthma to alcoholism run in both our families.  And my most excellent personal care hadn't aided my second, third, fourth, fifth or sixth baby's health.  The veil over the illusion of control began to be pulled back. 

We began to put our trust completely in God.  Let me clarify, we had been trusting God.  But, we had also been trying desperately to be successful.  In so many aspects of our lives, that had never before been a challenge.  Family planning was humbling.  We realized we needed God like we'd never needed him before.

So again, back to Bethany, my husband and I remained stumped by that open ended question.  I'm sure some more confident potential parents have an easier time with that question, but for me I wasn't yet in a place where I could move forward.

Shortly thereafter, someone we know invited us for dinner and we talked.  He eventually asked whether or not we wanted more children, and our story we told.  He knew someone who had adopted and the next day emailed her and I.  We instantly had a connection and planned to meet.

Picture and word art I made the day I learned about ANLC

This teary conversation between strangers at the local Wegman's coffee shop would forever transform our lives.  She and her husband had an adopted son through Adoption Network Law Center.  On my way home that day, I stopped at the river and went for a run.  It was the best day I had had in months.  I felt hopeful for the first time in so long.  The weight of secondary infertility began to lift in that very moment.  That night when my husband was home from work and my son was tucked in bed, I cried as I retold everything I could remember from my conversation earlier that day. 

My husband and I's next few conversations were not easy.  It took us a couple weeks to get on the same page about how to move forward.  I felt breathless with anticipation.  He was anxious about really relinquishing control.  I was in the midst of at least a minor depression and he wanted to do everything he could to support me.  Nevertheless, he didn't want to jump into a solution if he wasn't sure it was right for our family.  From what I understand, most couples take some time to get into the same place where they can move forward with adoption.  Everyone, including my therapist, told me not to rush into things.  But it just felt so right.  It felt like we were being called by God.

I've shared with many people along the way that this situation reminded me of the story "I sent you a rowboat" or it's also known as, "God save me" - I've heard this before and just pulled an internet reference here, I don't know who wrote it originally.

I Sent You a Rowboat

A very religious man was once caught in rising floodwaters. He climbed onto the roof of his house and trusted God to rescue him. A neighbour came by in a canoe and said, “The waters will soon be above your house. Hop in and we’ll paddle to safety.” 

“No thanks” replied the religious man. “I’ve prayed to God and I’m sure he will save me” 

A short time later the police came by in a boat. “The waters will soon be above your house. Hop in and we’ll take you to safety.” 

“No thanks” replied the religious man. “I’ve prayed to God and I’m sure he will save me” 

A little time later a rescue services helicopter hovered overhead, let down a rope ladder and said. “The waters will soon be above your house. Climb the ladder and we’ll fly you to safety.” 

“No thanks” replied the religious man. “I’ve prayed to God and I’m sure he will save me” 

All this time the floodwaters continued to rise, until soon they reached above the roof and the religious man drowned. When he arrived at heaven he demanded an audience with God. Ushered into God’s throne room he said, “Lord, why am I here in heaven? I prayed for you to save me, I trusted you to save me from that flood.” 

“Yes you did my child” replied the Lord. “And I sent you a canoe, a boat and a helicopter. But you never got in.”

Source: unknown.

When we were introduced to ANLC, although the pain of miscarriage was still very real and the other options like IVF were still completely possible, adoption felt like the rowboat that I didn't want to pass by.  It felt like our best next step.  Through grace my husband and I slowly came to a common ground and decided to at least find out more about this agency that seemed to hold so much promise. 

ANLC's online information page asked for minimal information and I could easily fill it out.  A representative called me the same day.  Although that might sound aggressive, it didn't feel like pressure, and they were pleasant.  Eventually, we set up a time for a conference call with a representative, myself and my husband.  That two hour phone call was transformative for us.  I think we both knew that adoption with ANLC was right for us. 

The cost was higher with the national agency than it would have been with the local agencies but (again, by grace) our finances came together quicker than we anticipated.  In September 2013, we began filling out the paperwork for both ANLC and to begin a home study through Adoption Advisors.  We got busy writing our dear birthmother letter, getting fingerprinted, asking friends for

One picture our BM cited as drawing
her into our profile

references and taking pictures for our profile.  Our profile was "live" in October and our homestudy completed in December.  Throughout our time on the adoption "list", I was on the birth control pill.  Although this transition certainly lifted the cloud of depression from me, there were different stressors with adoption that took their toll.

The hardest part of adoption is the wait.  Much like with infertility, you begin to wonder what's wrong with you and why things aren't moving faster.  I often fretted over how I might make our profile more attractive to birthmothers.  I wondered whether certain words (like "nanny") were scaring the perfect match away.  Was it too preachy, not catchy enough, should I take out the reference to my miscarriages altogether? 

Again, I wanted my family now.  The wait from the pregnancy losses was cumulative with the  adoption wait.  I knew there was light at the end of the tunnel but there were times when it still seemed unfairly far off. 

When we least expected it, we were presented with a match in July 2014.  Mike and I agreed that it was perfect, right from the start. There were no major red flags in the birthparent history.  After a few days, the liaison from the agency called us all on a conference call and we spoke with the mother of our second son!  It was awesome. 

In September we flew out to meet our prospective birthmother and her children and family.  It was surreal.  We had fun and began to form a bond that will hopefully last our lifetimes.  Since her birthday had recently passed, we had celebratory pedicures (my husband included!) and took her and her kids out to eat.  We talked about a variety of topics as honestly as possible and began to trust one another. 

For the remainder of her pregnancy, we kept in touch by text and phone messages and continued to feel very close.  She seemed to be fervent in her adoption decision, which was of course good news to our ears.  The agency continued to caution us against getting "too hopeful."  It was too late for that.  Although I understand why they do this, I am not sure it's practical or useful.  Certainly an adoption disruption, which is not uncommon, would have been devastating, but in our hearts it felt like there was no room for anything but optimism and hope.  As with all six of our pregnancies, we were already in love with our child. 

Ultimately, I flew to the birth state a week before the due date.  I didn't have to work and was too anxious to stay home.  On Thanksgiving day, my husband flew out (work obligation free at that point) to join us. Our birthmother and her family were excited to see us and we spent at least a little time everyday together, getting to know each other more.  Her having children already certainly influenced our collective desire to be together.  They were full of fun ideas and we enjoyed the unique opportunity to get to know them.  Those days, waiting for our son to be born and getting to know his birthmother and brothers, were some of the most interesting, heartfelt days of my life. 

On her due date, we went with our birthmother to her 40 week appointment.  Although there were no signs of labor, the doctor sent us to Labor and Delivery for induction.  We were thrilled with anticipation!  The next morning, our son was born.  Our birthmother was so strong throughout her labor and delivery.  Immediately after my husband cut the cord and the baby was cleaned up, I had the great privilege of holding my second son skin to skin.  We spent about thirty minutes adoring each other and then he went to his daddy's arms.  Later, his birthmother held him for the first of many times and I was as honored at her connection with our son as she as she had been with mine. 

For the next 36 hours, we shared a hospital room.  Our collective visitors - including several of her friends and family as well as my older son, and sister in law who'd arrived earlier that morning by plane - crowded into the maternity waiting room.  Although I've described it as claustrophobic, it was also an intimate time of bonding for our various family units and I wouldn't trade a single second of it. 

The bravest woman I know signed the relinquishment of her parental rights the morning after our son was born.  We were discharged home later that morning.  We dropped her off at home and then headed back to our hotel.  As we drove we cried, trying to put into words the sheer awe we had just experienced. 

Five days later, the ICPC gave us permission to leave the birth state and return to our home state.  We were overjoyed! 

Six plane tickets and 8 hours in the air later, we were home with our family. 

Our adoption continues to be open and we've communicated with the birthmother through texts, pictures and letters since.  She seems to appreciate the connection and I'm certain that when's he's old enough to understand our son will too. 

Our adoption finalization won't be for several more months, but our two sons are settling into a great brotherhood.  We are so very happy.  Our story continues.... thankfully.... beautifully.


*Please note these are simply our experiences.  I don't mean to undermine anyone else's choices or suggest that ours are the best or only route. 
Adoption stories are as unique as fingerprints.  This is our story (so far).

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A letter to someone hurting. You are not alone.

I have a friend out there who's suffering from a loss, really a series of losses and my heart goes out to her.  I have been there -- no, not exactly where you are.  Because the unjust list of reasons why some of us suffer and are not able to have the children we always dreamed of having in the way we always dreamed of having them, are varied.  Whether it be primary or secondary infertility, miscarriage, recurrent miscarriage, chromosomal abnormalities, neonatal death, the list goes on.  Each of these terrible outcomes on one's family planning is devastating in unique ways, and I don't pretend to understand them all.  But I do know a little about the pain you're going through.  And you are not alone.  There are countless women and men suffering like you, usually in silence. 

It is not fair that that which defines a great part of you is kept from you.  True, some women are not defined even in part by motherhood or the desire for motherhood.  There are true career women out there whom I admire and don't mean to undermine.  But a majority of us have a desire, however buried within us that longs for children.  There is nothing like being a mother.  It's a uniquely challenging and beautiful experience that through enough witness many of us know we want to share in. 

Some women know from a young age that they want a family and make it a high priority in their lives.  Some of those women suffer from infertility.  Many of us, however, are ridden with guilt for feeling like we just waited too long.  It's true that female fertility declines with age and since the average age of marriage and first childbirth is rising in America, it's no surprise that infertility is too.  "If only I had met mister right a few years sooner, then we wouldn't be here... if only I hadn't put my career first for all those years... if only we had tried sooner..."

Please don't "if only" yourself.  You did not.  You waited, or maybe you didn't.  Either way, you can't take that back now.  You did not drink too much caffeine.  You most certainly did not worry that baby to death.  One thing I know for sure is that YOU are not to blame that you do not have the baby you've been dreaming of.  I'll say it again, your nest is not empty through any fault of your own.  However hard, the first step is to stop blaming yourself.  Stop blaming your partner.

And then, stop blaming God.  Maybe that's not an issue for you, maybe your faith is as strong as ever.  God knows you're praying more than ever.  Who knows why those prayers remain unanswered...  [I think I know in part - it's because God's plan for your family is different than your own.  But yes, I know the bitter taste of that pill; and it isn't helping right now.] 

Right now, your unmet expectations are only worsened by others abundance of baby joy.  Often people speak about how unfair it is that women who do heroin can carry healthy babies to term, it feels like those women don't deserve their babies.  I don't know how to feel about that.  But I do know that you deserve your baby.  And that feels pretty damn unfair.  For me, and maybe also for you, this worldly injustice makes you feel a little jealous but your faith is strong enough to let you know that the world is just not fair, and you can reconcile that. 

But what can be even worse is when your best friend, maybe your sister or your colleague, is elated with her beautiful bump and you can't even look at her.  The thought of someone you love's baby shower makes you physically want to vomit (I've heard that from so many of my friends.)  Or these conversations that give you phantom kicks and then throw you into a panic attack (oh wait, maybe that's just me).  It's worse when it's someone you love.  They've been blessed with pregnancy or a brood full of babies, and that is good.  You know it's good, you know they deserve it.  You know you shouldn't be, but you are still jealous.  Your jealousy can be consuming, it is raw and always at the surface.  What's more, you don't need to be told that that jealousy is a sin.  You know it, and you hate yourself for it. 

You are not alone.  I've been there, felt that.  It's like a mild version of post traumatic stress disorder and I am so very sorry that you have to go through that.  As if losing a baby or being unable to conceive weren't bad enough, now you have to suffer again.

There are real reasons why you feel this way.  They need to be overcome, but they are real and you should know that.  I wish the people around you could validate that for you.  I am sorry that they cannot.  You grieved your baby, or the loss of the family you once imagined and maybe you even thought you were getting over it.  But then you have to also grieve the loss of the joys of pregnancy.  Nursery decorations, baby showers, ultrasound pictures, the glorious sensation of a baby kicking, maybe even those stretchy maternity clothes.  Yes, these are #firstworldproblems, but they are still very real in our minds and hearts.  We are surrounded by other women who are "successfully" growing their families.  You don't always get the space and time you need before you see a beautiful bump and feel jealous.  That's reality.  And no one, who hasn't been there, seems to understand. 

Nevertheless, you must give yourself the time to heal and give yourself a "pass" on the jealousy for a little while.  If it goes on beyond a few months, then I highly recommend you see a therapist (which I did when my panic began). 

Finally, when you just feel like you are healing, friendly commentary might be getting you down.  It comes from loved ones, some of the people closest to you, or often times from church people.  They mean well when they ask you to not give up hope, tell you that God is good, or insist that it will work out "next time."  They don't mean to hurt you but it hurts just the same.  Your perspective and your perception are all that really matter.  I recall the exhaustion of trying to be nice, when others were insensitive and completely lacking in empathy.  It's tiresome, and I wish you didn't have to deal with it.  I'm sorry they hurt you, even though they don't intend to.  Right now, their intentions don't matter.  You need and deserve someone who will truly listen.  Someone who will let you speak freely, honestly, about your hurts. 

Please don't be ashamed.  Even though all these forces are pushing you towards shame, you have nothing to be ashamed of.  You just need a safe space to be real.  Maybe it's your best friend who just won't listen without interrupting you and telling you how and why you need to get over it.  Just as unlikely, there will be someone who tries to understand.  They won't really understand because they haven't been where you are.  But the gesture of them trying will mean so much.  They might not even really be a friend, yet.  I know they're out there though.  Maybe it's me.  Maybe it's another blogger or maybe it's your spouse.  It could be a friend who just happens to not have any kids yet and you hadn't thought before to ask why.  Maybe she only has one child and is shooting herself up with hormones in the bathroom during her break at work.  You never know. 

Probably no one would be able to guess what's going on in your mind.  You're hiding but you don't need to.  Please find a safe space to truly heal. 

Your heart yearns for more.  You do not need to apologize for that. 

Please do not let the guilt for feeling jealous mount upon the jealousy and grief.  This burden is oh so heavy.  I am so sorry if you are suffering from this burden.  I know I did.  It took several months for me to start recovering and it has forever changed who I am. 

With support, online and in person, and the healing tincture of time, you will start to feel better. 

As I began my blogging journey, one beautiful person shared this video by Brene Brown with me, and I just cried and cried.  I began to feel understood.  I hope you find the refuge you need where you can remember what you're worth and whose capable hands you're in. 


This is a letter to someone hurting.  It could be a letter to myself two years ago.  Please share it if you know someone who is hurting.  Maybe you can't understand this blog, but I bet she will. 

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.