Nesting while Adopting

Just the other day, my husband and I ate a soup from my deep freezer dated September 5, 2013.  Yes, that is seven month old soup.  Yes, I cooked it about a week or two after we signed the contract with our adoption agency.  Yes, I made soup deliberately so we'd have leftovers to save for when the baby comes. 

I guess we have to start eating them sometime... I think there are five or six more containers from throughout the fall and winter down there.... I'm running low on tupperware...

No, I'm not the obsessive compulsive type.  But, I do have the luxury of already having one kid and I know just how hard it can be to get dinner on the table with a new little on at home.  Freezing meals ahead of time is the best advice I can give an expectant new parent!

Interestingly, much of what I find online to guide adoptive parents about the process of adopting is geared towards first time parents.  Recently I stumbled upon an article about what to do during the adoption wait and I excitedly opened the link!... just to find recommendations like "take a long hot bath."  I do think I've done that once in the last three and half years so I guess that counts.

So it's not just the soup that I have to confess, I've also been doing some spring cleaning spurts.  I just realized the basement carpets need to be cleaned so I'll be adding that to the list.  A few months ago now, we painted the room.  It is decorated and ready. 

No, I have not washed the bottles.  I am not that crazy.

But yes, I want to Nest.  It must not be hormonal despite what you might read.  So what it is it? 

Dictionary.com says that Nest can be a noun or a verb.  My favorite of the noun definitions:

a snug retreat or refuge

The verb, to nest (my most favorite definition):

to fit together or within another or one another  

A few days ago, my son and I watched a bird pick up some dried grasses and fly up to a telephone wire, only to drop the nesting material when he landed.  My son was upset watching this and determined the birdie's load was just too heavy.  Yes, nesting can be heavy. 

After a lengthy search on the topic of nesting while adopting, I only found one good story, linked here.  I found a few articles written by women in other countries, but little except this one from an American, and the article I linked is actually written by a daddy which made it even more special!  Sadly, most of the rest of what I found is recommendations from many about not nesting before bringing home an adopted child.  These recommendations are based in fear; fear of a failed adoption.  Families who suffer from infertility and especially those who've endured the tragedy of neonatal loss, are reluctant to prepare their homes.  Women and men who have had baby showers only to lose their precious miracles know that heartache all too deeply.  And, I can't say I've been there, I'm thankful to have only read and heard about that kind of pain.  But, I do have decorations leftover from my second pregnancy which now adorn our new nursery; they are over two years old now.  Yes, nesting can be heavy. 

But what I do know, is that every baby needs a snug retreat or refuge. 

And I also know that every mother wants to create that for their child.  Biological or not, my child's home will be here in my home.  It needs to fit together with ours.  We need to make space.  Since we have the resources, we ought to be prepared. 

When I was pregnant, nesting, like virtually every other part of pregnancy was something to be celebrated.  Something to be ooo'ed and ahh'ed over.

So, I wonder, instead of instilling and propagating fear in men and women who have to or choose to adopt to grow their families, why don't we encourage joy? 

Call me wreckless, but I think we Americans are too full of caution, and not full enough of optimism.  Contrary to natural childbirth, I know adoption will bring my family a baby.  It may take two or three times as long as the typical duration of a pregnancy, but it will happen.  Prospective adoptive parents just need to be patient. 

Making soup keeps me occupied as the weeks and months drag on.  Making soup gives my nest an extra layer of safety and security so we know we'll be prepared when our big day comes. 

Nesting doesn't have to be hormonal, it's instinctual.  I shouldn't have to refer to my nesting as a "confession," when pregnant women get to boast about theirs on social media.  Adoptive parents are no different than any other kind of parent; we want, we need, we must, prepare a safe, healthy, beautiful, loving home for our children!  Plus, it's fun! 

I for one, am going to continue being excited to nest. 

My baby is going to love this snug retreat!

Better, when?

My second baby was due on March 17, 2012 and my third baby was due exactly one year later, also on St Patrick's Day, in 2013.  Unfortunately, both of those days have come and gone without an addition to our family.

My fourth pregnancy was joyful, until my seven week ultrasound when the baby's heartbeat was a little slow and their was some hemorrhage around him in my uterus. 

Seven weeks is early for an ultrasound, yes, but given my history, my OB thought it wise to get an early look. 

Just so you understand the timeline, this ultrasound took place during January 2013.  So, I was about 9 weeks, when Fasnacht Day came along on February 12, 2013 (see this wiki link for details about this neat Pennsylvania Dutch Holiday I married into, which is the day before Ash Wednesday {aka Fat or Shrove Tuesday} when you rid the house of fat and sugar by frying doughnuts. This is celebrated in a fantastic way by my mother-in-law.  We go there every year and spend all day eating more than we should (?preparing for the fast on Wednesday), and enjoying a host of family and friends that we don't see often enough.)  So back to Donut day (as I call it, for fear of misspelling), I knew this baby was sick and might not make it, but my pants were too tight and I knew I'd be eating too much, so I wore maternity pants.  It was a cute outfit but people noticed, and honestly I didn't really mind... because at that point, I wanted to be excited for the baby.  Maybe excitement would help them survive?  Questions came, and I fielded them just fine. 

Two short days later, we were back at the doctor's office to find that our baby didn't have a heartbeat anymore.  We were sad, and mad. 

It was one of those days that neither of us forget.  Although my husband couldn't have told you most of the details I've enumerated above, we both remember sitting on the curb atop the hill behind our hospital grappling with the unbelievable. 

"Who has three straight miscarriages?"  (Little did we know what the next 6 months would have in store... two more.)

When my tears settled, we realized we both were starving.  The nanny was with our toddler, so we might as well go get a bite to eat.  I didn't even care what I looked like in public, so we picked our favorite Thai place and drove across the bridge to get there.  Traffic was terrible and when we arrived, there was a line in this tiny place.  What is everyone doing here on a Thursday?

It was Valentines day. OH.

At any rate, why do I share this story now?  Well, first of all, I wasn't blogging back then; I was holding it all in.  But, yes, I also have a point. 

We'd been doing Sympto-thermal NFP with temperature charting and through all this, and I'd become incredibly in-tune with my own body, so I'd known exactly what day I'd ovulated on.  These days, who needs Naegele's rule anyway?

[LMP + 1 year] - 3 months + 7 days  

= due date 

I own one of these due date calculators (shown right), and even if you don't, it's easy to find Pregnancy due date calculator's online (linked is babycenter.com's version).  I doubt I'm the only one who's run to the calculator as soon as I saw the two pink lines. 

You see, when a family gets pregnant, they know they have a present inside.  The first, most natural question is, when do I get to open this present?  When do I get to meet him or her? 

The inevitable next step is dreaming and imagining that day and the days that follow, of when your baby will be born and how your family will grow.  Those are some of the most beautiful dreams I've ever dreamt. 

And so, when a woman has a miscarriage and she's in the midst of despair, she wants to know when it will get better.  Her husband and loved ones wonder, it'll be better, when? 

I tell you from my experience, it'll be better when they're pregnant again.  When there's another promise, another present that awaits them.  It'll be better when they feel full again.  As her previous due date approaches, it may feel like a due date to fix the problem; fill the hole.  The anxiety this produces is subconscious, involuntary.

As all my due dates have come and gone, and three otherwise insignificant holidays pass us by (Valentine's, Fasnacht and St Patrick's), I'm reminded of my losses. 

The memory of empty creeps in...

By God, they do not own me. 

I'm full, yes my cup overflows with blessings today.
[My gorgeous husband, son, home, health, faith, family.]

I'm full, yes I'm anxious with anticipation for the one to come; the completion of my family. 

Oh Lord,

We'll be better when...

We'll be better when we rest in you

Not just in heaven but here on earth too.

Give me rest in you.

Peace of mind and heart.

Patience for this journey,

which sometimes feels so rough.

But then I know,

You carry me.

Let me rest in you.

Give me true confidence

in your providence.

Complete my family

in your way

and in your time.

 

Oh Lord.

All the time

We bonded over the bedside.  A physical therapist walked in on me conversing with a patient in broken Spanish, her native language, and I think that gave her a soft spot in her heart for me.  Sure, it's best to communicate with patients in their own language and I happen to speak enough medical Spanish to get along, but it's rarely appreciated by other staff.  On this fond day of my memory, it was nice to be noticed and it seems like myself and this woman have had a special connection since then.  It made us a little more than work acquaintances. 

Today we ran into each other, after having not seen each other probably for months, and she asked how my baby was.  That happens often, which of course I appreciate, although it also causes me to wonder... does she know he's not a baby anymore?  Do people forget that he is 3 now, or do they think I have a baby too? 

At any rate, this was quickly followed by a, "don't you want to have another?"

"Yes, yes we do.  We have had really bad luck in that department."

She replied, "Well, keep trying... God is good."

I nodded and smiled, "All the time." 

Yes, God is good... all the time.
All. the. time.
God is good.

It's something you've probably heard in church somewhere sometime and I know I've heard it many times before, but I don't know if I've ever said it to someone in conversation and I'm quite certain I've never said it at work. 

Let me be clear: this coworker of mine did not offend me today. 

And yet, I can't get it off my mind.  I was glad I knew what to say back, for once.  (Although I'm fairly confident she didn't get my point.) 
I wished, though, that she had known what to say.  (But I know that's hard, very hard.)

This recurring statement, these repeated attempts at empathy that I continue to experience, cause me to wonder... why.  Why do Christians, why good people who care about us, continue to repeatedly insist that we keep trying.  What is it about trying? 

Just like my sister-in-law isn't less of a women without a man, my husband and I aren't less of a family without 2.5 children.  I am so sick of listening to what the world tells us we need to have.  

[As if elf on the shelf and valentines at preschool weren't bad enough,

I will not be pressured into wanting to try anymore if I don't want to try anymore. 

In fact, I do want to try more.  But only if it's going to be successful,

and if that can't happen then I want to quit trying. 

Quitting trying will not make me less of a woman or wife. 

Quitting trying will not make me less of a Christian.]

I'm a firm believer that miscarriage and infertility are not God's work.  They're a product of our broken and fallen world.  He's not up there smiling down when babies die or celebrating some of my dear friends who never get to see two pink lines.  It was most certainly not His design for our sex lives to revolve around a thermometer. 

We cannot deny our imperfect humanity.  Science, medicine and the disease and despair that come with them are facts of life.  And yet, God is good, all the time. 

God is good, all the time.  He's good when babies die.  He's good when our hopes go unrealized.

I'm not angry when people suggest that we keep trying, I just don't understand it, especially not when they invoke God's name as a reference point for why we shouldn't stop trying. 

Maybe God wants my husband and I to start trying to travel!  Maybe he wants couples all over the world to stop focusing on what they don't have and start focusing on what we do. 

In my opinion, insistence that we keep trying

suggests that God will be good when _xx_ happens. 

No... God is good, all the time. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I can't find in the bible where God tells us he'll give us every one of our personal goals and desires.  When our hope truly is in Him, we should stop trying so hard to accomplish our own agenda.  If there comes a time in our lives when we realize this, then it's ok to toss in the towel.  When our hope truly is in Him, we need to discern what exactly He wants from us and get on with it.  Why are my Christian brothers and sisters trying to tell me otherwise?  Why do they suggest I stay in some rut? 

Friends, if you're not ready to stop trying, then don't.  By all means, keep trying, because God is good.

But if you're not sure you're on the right course.  If your heart doesn't feel full, ask God what He wants to fill it with. 

God is good.  All the time. 
Let's be sure we're talking to him to find out what good He wants for us today. 

Contentment

As a mother I often fret about my son growing up in a world or attitude of entitlement.  It's a very real issue that I suspect will only become tougher to strive against as the years go on.

At the same time, I'm thankful I'm not part of that 'entitlement' generation.

Wait, what? 

Maybe I'm too old to be a Milenial, by definition. 
    Maybe I know what it means to work hard for what I earn and desire.
        But, let's face it... I'm a little entitled too.  Call it what you want...

[#firstworldproblems]

This is a intermittent and revolving thought process that's definitely something I struggle with.  (And if you don't think it's something you struggle with, maybe you aren't thinking hard enough.) 

On the one hand, when I think about my unrealized parenting dreams, I feel it's unfair.  "I deserve more." 

On the other hand, I know from having visited and worked briefly in the developing world, that what I have is abundance.  And it's not just the baby monitors and multiple roomed house kind of abundance; I've also been abundantly blessed with my family planning.  I have incredible access to resources, bloodwork, ultrasounds, medicines that have kept me healthy in pregnancy, skilled physicians to perform D&E's and C-sections under sterile conditions.  I enjoy a free society where I appreciated an Aunt who taught us NFP.  There are treatments that although I've opted against are certainly at my disposal. 

I know that those who 'have not' often have a sense of contentment that those of us who 'have' (been priveledged to grow up in the United States) will never be able to capture or fully understand.  The look of sheer joy that comes from a soccer ball will hopefully be something I never forget.  But, again it's not just material things... it's hard to articulate, but the godly people I've met in Central America and Africa have had this undeniable life attitude of "enough."  They don't constantly compare themselves, their children or their husbands to others around them.  They don't struggle with self pity.  The mothers in these situations are perhaps my greatest inspiration.  Take this woman, here:   

Uganda, BMCF, 2008

I'll never forget her story - herself, her husband, the baby she holds and all her children are HIV+.  I remember her telling me about how her husband would never consider using condoms to prevent pregnancy or transmission of disease.  They as parents know that their disease will be perpetuated in their children and there is nothing she can do to prevent it because her husband won't allow anything different.  And although she shared with me sadness for her children's condition, she didn't complain about her husband.  She simply came to our clinic in secrecy to do the little she could to protect her children from illness.  She truly seemed content in the midst of great struggle. 

Most days (most hours of the day), I'm content as well. But even the faintest hint of discontentment seems ridiculous from this perspective. God has given me more than I deserve. 

My family planning situation may not be what I imagined it would be, but it only feels unfair when I compare it to my friends who've had several successful consecutive pregnancies.  When I compare it to the woman above, it seems more than fair. 

Of course, that begs the question, why do we feel the need to compare?  

[#firstworldproblems]

In short, I am blessed in ways I have never even acknowledged.  Yes, I continue to worry about bearing a child with a fatal trisomy.  But, never once have I worried about my children being born with an incurable infectious disease.   Furthermore, in my little corner of the world, we have seemingly infinite access to resources to help us solve our family planning problems.  Yes, it might require most of our savings to adopt a baby, but we have those savings.  Praise God.  We live in a society with a robust legal system where adoption is possible (albiet cumbersome).  Thank you, Lord.  The list of examples of abundance could go on for paragraphs but that might get tedious... 

I am growing a healthy family.

Praise God indeed. 

Dear Lord,

Today and throughout my entire life,

I've been fortunate.  Privileged.

Save me and those like me from self pity.

Jealousy should have no home in my heart. 

Help us to appreciate our abundance in new ways

each and every day that we get to enjoy your glory.

Help us move towards contentment.

Mindful of the moment,

every comfortable, blessed moment.

Help us to keep our struggles in perspective.

We trust you with this and everything.

Amen.

A Pregnant Belly

I know it won't matter then.  But one of this world's great mysteries, one of the things I'd like to ask God when I get to the other side, has always been why there are so many unwanted pregnancies and yet so many families who want to be pregnant but cannot. 

In the early 1970s, one of the main points of law that our Supreme Court focused on when deciding Roe v Wade was the woman's right to privacy.  And no matter how you feel about their ruling, it's true, pregnant women have no privacy.

When I was pregnant it was fun at first, but then I found myself complaining.  I'd joke with a work friend who doesn't have kids, saying, "I just need to make myself a t-shirt with my due date and 'it's a boy' written on it, so people will stop asking me questions."  I didn't like strangers touching me.  At six months, a female patient told me I must have twins in there I was so big.  A month later a male patient told me I looked like a house.  I knew it silly to complain about, but I really couldn't go anywhere without some commentary.

How must women with unwanted pregnancies feel?  I can't even imagine. 

Oh, what I wouldn't give for a little commentary now. 

 

In that first pregnancy, I had a good friend who was in the process of adopting.  Her son is one day older than mine now.  I did my best back then to check in about her progress because I knew when I walked onto the ward where she worked that everyone gushed over me.  I wondered how she felt about that.  Did anyone gush over her?  Without a belly to show off, I doubted that. 

Waiting for an adoption is full of hope and wonder.  It promises new life that'll change ours in ways we can't expect.  I'm optimistic and excited. 

But waiting for an adoption is also quiet.  Man, I miss the belly.  I'm thankful I had that experience and sorrowful for those who never have such good fortune.  I didn't know I'd long for those days again.  Ladies, I'm begging you, don't take it for granted.  Those ultrasound pictures you get/choose to post online, the loving folks who are just curiously excited for you: drink it up.  Be thankful.  Be joyful.

Be kind.  Be also mindful and empathic of the men and women around you.  With or without a belly, they might have something worth hoping and gushing for too. 

Refining Me

I am a member of the CMDA (Christian Medical and Dental Association) and the WIMD (Women in Medicine and Dentistry) which both offer wonderful devotionals that often resonate with me.  The WIMD doesn't have a FB page so I receive this only in email format and couldn't find another way to link it here other than copying every word.  So, here it is (emphasis added in bold).  Although I completely agree with the attitude of gratitude that has turned up on FB in November, I felt her point was poignant:

Devotion - Thankful
by Tiffany Owens

The Thanksgiving season is upon us. Sadly, the holiday is becoming dwarfed by other expanding fall traditions and an ever earlier commencement of the Christmas extravaganza. The enemy is constantly on the prowl (John 10:10), encouraging us to be too busy and distracted to give thanks. In reality, this period of thankfulness is paramount for preparing our hearts for the Christmas season. Thankfulness displaces the focus from oneself to one’s Provider and Sustainer, often quieting the discontented heart, leading to a more purposeful (and less harried) approach to honoring our Savior’s birth. I desperately want to lean in deeper to my Sustainer during this season.
For several years, I have enjoyed the trend whereby social media is used to make a daily list of blessings. The posts generally start with, “I’m thankful for…” It’s wonderful to see answered prayers and appreciation of gifts beyond what many of these friends may have imagined. There have been some conspicuously missing posts, though. I haven’t seen many that say, “I’m really mad/hurt/bitter/sad/angry, but THANKFUL for my loneliness/burn out/financial problem/suffering…” Paul encourages us to “give thanks in all circumstances…” and I, for one, do not naturally lean toward that response (1 Thessalonians 5:18, NIV 2011). In fact, sometimes, I think I prefer to stay in my sour mood, even while God’s Word offers me the steps to “move on.” Why I would want to remain grumpy, I cannot explain; however, I do know that choosing joy and trusting in God’s precepts seems to require effort on my part and is contrary to the actions of the world around me. I feel too weak to tackle yet another obstacle, so I sulk. Paul struggled with an opportunity for bitterness. He described a thorn in his flesh, which was sent as a messenger of Satan, to torment Paul. He pleaded with God to remove it from him, but God did not. Instead, He responded with the relieving news that Paul’s weakness was an opportunity to highlight the perfection of God’s power within Paul. This led Paul to conclude, “…when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:7-10, NIV 2011). Presently, I’m feeling sour and grumpy and weak because of a thorn of my own. I greatly desire to honor God through the situation, develop perseverance and authentically show others Christ’s power within me. I don’t want to miss out on experiencing the joy of Thanksgiving and Christmas because of my misguided self-focus. How might I develop a thankful spirit about a situation from which I’d rather be spared?

1. I am going to acknowledge that God is not instructing me to be thankful for the “thorn” itself. He’s guiding me to be thankful for the all-sufficient grace He has provided.
2. I am going to resist my natural response to sulk or get busy attempting to fix it via my own abilities. I choose to claim the power of Christ, even when I don’t feel it, by demolishing “arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5, NIV 2011).
3. I am going to express my thankfulness. By leaning into God’s grace and making my wayward thoughts obedient to Christ, I am then able to be more comforted by the Holy Spirit’s sweet presence. Upon reflection, I’m truly thankful that the presence of the “thorn” is causing me to seek deeper fellowship and rest in Jesus than I would have otherwise experienced.

Dear God, thank you for being my Provider and Sustainer. Thank you for the abundant blessings I so often take for granted. Thank you for loving me enough to challenge me in areas where I am not resting in your best and for giving me your Word and Holy Spirit to guide me. I KNOW your grace is perfected in my weakness, but please help me to FEEL it today too. Amen.

So, let me follow her lead and try it here:

I'm thankful for my losses because with the babies has gone my pride.  Inappropriately placed pride for results that I hadn't really produced on my own but was claiming to have.  With humility, I've been able to connect empathetically in ways I'd never before been capable of.  With eyes wide open, my perspective has broadened and thereby my heart has opened. 

I'm thankful for my losses because they've helped me to learn to be mindful of the moment. 

My losses have helped me lean away from the temptation towards perfectionism. 

I'm thankful that my losses created the nidus for this conversation.  I'd been contemplating it for months and hadn't been courageous enough to share.  Although the openness of this blog has made some uneasy, it's helped the peace within me flourish and for that, I'll forever be thankful. 

I'm thankful that I've been able to witness through my losses in this way. 

I'm thankful for my experiences of healthcare this side; they're making me a better physician. 

I'm thankful that through my losses, I've had a patient partner to lean on.  I'm thankful he's endured those same losses with me.  I'm thankful that he felt our losses differently than I, because that way we were able to pull and push each other along in healthy ways. 

I'm thankful that my losses and your losses have united us; they bring us together in a unique and powerful way. 

As the song by Unspoken says, "If I'm under fire, I know it's refining me"

It's not natural for us to think this way, but it is necessary.

Because hurt, pain, loss and unfairness will continue to haunt us.

New loss will come in different forms in the future. 

Wiser, stronger, we are refined. 

We're thankful that Someone loves us enough to bother refining us.   

"All my dreams, all my plans, Lord I leave it in your hands...

have your way with me"

I've Always Loved You

"Not you Mar..." were my dad's words when I called home in the first few weeks of medical school and told him that "everybody failed the first anatomy test."  "Not you Mar."  Unconditional love, confidence, faith, and maybe even admiration in me....  "Yes, Dad, me too."

So, on my wedding day, I danced with my dad to a tremendous song by the best Christian band on the planet,  "Don't you know I've always loved you?... Even before there was time... And I always will..." so the song goes.  It's a song telling the story of God's unconditional love for us and it'll make you cry.

Although I'd experienced it in the receiving end, I didn't know much about emoting unconditional love until my brother's son was born.  Before I even met him, I felt true love in my heart for that boy.  I really did, and it shocked me.  Prior to that I really didn't know what everyone was talking about all giddily.  

Recently that same song came on my radio ~ it doesn't get much radio play ~ so that was a special treat. 

Hearing it again got me thinking about my future daughter or son.  I don't know who they are.  I don't know where they are.  I don't know what they are... how their eyes will look, or how their laugh will sound. 

But one thing I do know, is that I love him or her.  Deep down in my soul, I have love.  Set aside just for him or her.  Perhaps it hasn't been there since 'before there was time."  But it's been there for at least two years last August.  At least since that second pink line showed up and I knew I was a mother of two.  I've been dreaming of that girl or boy.  Not in the how cute they'll be on prom night kind of way, but in the companion kind of way.  The story-telling, laughing, keeping me up at night, kind of way.  I imagine my son's sibling relationship and the strength of character that'll grow in him.  I hear a heart-to-heart with my husband and our second child and it's a beautiful image.

My second baby was a girl and my fourth was a boy, the others I don't know.  And again, I don't know what the next will be.  But, that doesn't matter.  I don't really see that the love is being 'transferred' from one baby to another.  It's always been there, right where it belongs, on the heart of the one to come.  The babies I've lost, I love too, but they were never going to Be.  The ship didn't go off course.  It's right on. 

I'm filled with the hope of tomorrow, and of today.  That the baby I've longed for will be here soon.  And I'll finally get to say, "don't you know I've always loved you?"

Probably, he or she won't really know it until he or she sits in this seat one day. 
Unconditional love is really something special,

and from this vantage point is breath-taking.