being practical.
It has now been more than three months since I received word from my specialist that I was unable to have children. They were — and for this I am oddly thankful, since I hate uncertainty — quite blunt about the reality of my situation: there wasn’t anything I could do but adopt, since my body would neither produce viable eggs or host anyone else’s without attacking them.
That was hard. Is hard. Will be hard? I don’t know. Dealing with the physical difficulties of the autoimmune stuff and my subsequent treatment will eventually die down to a dull roar, and then I’ll be left to see if the emotion of everything is easier to wade through once I no longer feel sick and sleepless and frustrated with my body.
But I don’t think it’s going to be easy. I’ve already done my share of crying. And yelling. And sitting very quietly waiting for the ache to pass.
It would have been easier, perhaps, if I’d never been the sort of person who wanted to have kids or had much to do with kids, but if you’ve read this blog for long, you know this is not the case.
I have been dreamily attached to babies since shortly after I stopped being one, and working with kids has pretty much defined most of my life up until a couple of years ago. I’m good with little ones. It feels natural. I love them and value their little hearts and minds more than I can express. I feel committed to the wellbeing of each one that crosses my path. The connection is always quick, and always strong. It’s just a part of who I am.
So.
Like I say, hard.
The funny thing is, I’d never really considered adoption. Isn’t that crazy?
Maybe adoption would be something I’d do after having a passle of my own biological children, but it was never the first step I’d had in mind. It seems a bit odd to me now, but I certainly wasn’t basing my decisions on a lack of appreciation for the concept, or on the notion that adopted children were somehow less connected with their parents.
I just wanted to experience the birth process. To grow big. To breastfeed. All of that stuff. None of which is the definition of parenthood, but all of which were in my list of benefits.
Maybe I was being limited in my scope, but I know I’m not alone in this. I’ve read enough infertility articles and blogs to see that this is a longing I share with many, many women. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with that, just as there is nothing wrong with people who wish only to adopt their children, or to do both. It’s a matter of choice.
Although, oddly, as soon as I started coming across these blogs and reading their archives, a few of these struggling women actually started getting pregnant. Or once I’d read forward in their archives, it turned out they’d eventually had a child and that I was actually reading a couple years back. People would pile on the hope and congrats when test results came back positive, and I felt that elation for them, too, even if it was bittersweet.
Hell, a ton of my friends are pregnant or have been recently, and I celebrate each amazing story, regardless of the fact that this aspect of the parenting experience will never be my own.
But for me, it’s no longer a debate or a hope or a process or a goal. Now it’s a concept that exists in my history. Which makes me want to accept and celebrate something else entirely for my life.
Which brings me to the now.
Now I have to think about what adopting will mean. About going on lists. About looking at laws. About analyzing my income and making plans. About dealing with all of this potentially before I even have a partner on the scene. I’m 32, after all. On one hand, I’m very much ready for the next stage of my life.
But will I find someone who shares my dreams? And if I don’t, then can I do it alone? I won’t be really alone — I have family and friends galore — but it’s something I have to consider. Am I enough of anything and everything to be a single parent? And is someone else’s lack of desire to adopt a child going to be a dealbreaker for me?
Some people have told me that it’s too early to be asking these questions, but to them I say: when, then? I’m not a kid. And this is the new playing field, so this is what I have to explore.
No one would dream of telling a 32 year old that she was too young to worry about her fertility. By that same token, I’m not too young to worry about my options now.
So.
A million questions. How much will it cost? Domestic adoption or adoption overseas? Foster care adoption or international relief? Newborn or not newborn? My own race, or another race? Do I care about gender? And how many times can I afford the process?
To be honest, when I break it down into thoughts like that, some part of me mourns that I’ve lost a particular angle on the mystery of having a child, even if this has created a whole other set of mysteries for me.
But this much is true:
Within five minutes of receiving my “news” (as it’s come to be known among my friends and family) I was on the phone to my mother in a concrete stairwell telling her that maybe this was all supposed to be this way, because I had never, ever had a problem connecting to children that didn’t come from my own body. That I could love a baby in my arms within seconds and feel as protective of that child’s life as of my own. This is why it was so hard for me to deal with abuse cases at camp. This is why the children’s hospital work ripped me to shreds.
I think I was saying it to comfort her at the time, to make this all seem like grand destiny and not just a horrible kick in the head. She knew that, but she also agreed with me.
And three months later, I’m even more aware of how many experiences in my life prepared me for this moment in time, and all the moments going forward.
That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like hell and that my stomach isn’t twisted into knots right this very second.
What it does mean is that I’m being practical.
Because, at the end of the day, that’s what a mommy has to be.
August 23rd, 2006 at 3:29 pm
Truly amazing. Those are some very tough questions there. I hope you can find your way through all of that…actaully, I know you can. I’m certain it won’t be easy but the end result will be beautiful.
August 23rd, 2006 at 3:59 pm
Yes. Hi. My name is Desiree and I am infertile. Endometriosis destroyed my insides. I am 24. I was 22 when I knew officially. I didn’t ever really tell my mom. She still thinks that babies are an option because I couldn’t handle her reaction if I told her. I figure it will all just pan out somehow.
All I can say about infertility is how much it still bothers me when people are intrusive, or worse yet, don’t believe me. Like I’m going to miraculously get pregnant because god makes it so.
However, I never felt a need to have children biologically my own. Maybe I just didn’t have time. I was sick with pain as soon as my cycle even started. Babies? Let’s figure out this horrid period stuff first. After surgery, countless medications and treatments, I have come to a place where I can’t question why anymore but just move forward.
I do think that there actually is a plan for me, and adoption could very well be in it. There are so many children out there who need to be loved. I could love one of them. I have been both overjoyed and left feeling a little empty, in an odd way, when I come across infertility blogs with now happily child endowed people.
I cannot pretend to understand why things happen the way they do but I can say that your approach is poetic and strong. I came around here for the funny, I love the honesty. Good luck, best wishes, and all that good stuff.
August 23rd, 2006 at 4:29 pm
I think you’re going to be an amazing mother. Your future children, however they come to be yours are very lucky. And, just for the record, little Chinese girls are too adorable. Have you seen the pictures of Mimi Smartypants’ (smartypants.diaryland.com) girl, Nora?
August 23rd, 2006 at 4:41 pm
meg, this post just proves what a great mother you will be once you get the logistics figured out.
my history is this: i didn’t want to have anything to do with kids until i was about 35. couldn’t get pregnant, tried and tried for two years, til i found out my husband was a drug addict. met someone new but he was married. he gave me what i wanted, my son, and we had a very brief relationship before he was murdered when our son was 2. believe it or not, i somehow always knew i’d be doing this alone.
the support of family and friends is priceless. you’re smart to think of that NOW. i think you’re dealing with all this the only way you know how to–YOUR way. and that makes it the right way.
August 23rd, 2006 at 5:16 pm
By the last two sentences I can see that you’ve already learned one of the most important lessons of motherhood.
Your children, however they manage to find you, will be blessed. :D
And I’m one of those people who believes that there are reasons AND reasons for the way things are. Think of the parentless children that are just waiting for you to find them.
August 23rd, 2006 at 5:42 pm
meg, you will be a terrific mother, no matter how your kids come to you, but i know that it will be a long journey regardless. i wish you luck and love as you continue to figure it all out.
August 23rd, 2006 at 6:47 pm
Practical is good. You are a great mommy. And sometimes, practical sucks…even for great mommies. I am glad you are able to ride the waves. Hang on!
August 23rd, 2006 at 8:04 pm
Meg,
I couldn’t help but smile as I read this post. You will be a GREAT Mom, a best friend, and the right person for some little boy, or girl who needs someone just like you.
Hang on Hon, it can be a rough ride, but believe me, it can be well worh the ups, and downs life brings. Just remember, you do have those friends, family, and good ears here to lean on.
Just take your time to figre it all out. Then move on to what you feel is the next comfortable step for you.
Good luck Love!
Hugs,
Will
August 23rd, 2006 at 9:37 pm
What a hard post that must have been to write. I’m so proud of you, Meg. You are dealing with this with so much strength and grace. I think it’s never too early to think about being a parent.
And, just for the record, you may still be able to breastfeed. I don’t know a ton about it, but I know that it is possible to lactate even if you have not been pregnant. Check out http://www.lalecheleague.org/ for more info.
I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts and prayers.
August 23rd, 2006 at 9:41 pm
More specifically: http://www.lalecheleague.org/NB/NBadoptive.html
August 23rd, 2006 at 11:24 pm
Child-rearing and adoption aren’t subjects I think about a lot, but this has always been my philosophy:
Having your own children is essentially a selfish act; adopting is essentially a selfless one.
You can tell it’s philosophy because of the semi-colon.
Like I say, not a subject that’s at the front of my mind, but I did enjoy this podcast/diary by a writer about adopting a Kazakh baby:
http://www.slate.com/id/2132692/entry/2132693/
August 24th, 2006 at 1:10 am
I’m one of those women who never really wanted children; I’m not a very nurturing person. However, when we find out what I’d have to go through to have a baby, including the expense, as much as it was a relief, it still wasn’t easy. MIL and my mother went on and on about adoption, so did co-workers. And of course there were those women who would wink and say, “doctors aren’t always right, it could happen.”
I grew very bitter and angry each and everytime my mother or an aunt would call to tell me that one of my cousins had another baby, and wasn’t I so happy for them? I really wasn’t. Not then.
I’ve mellowed, my mother has finally accepted the fact that I’m just not a mother-type. I am happy for my fertile cousins, and I’ve been caught smiling at little ones on the bus now and then.
I think you will be a terrific mom and there’s no greater gift for a child than you as his or her mother.
August 24th, 2006 at 6:53 am
{{hugs}}
August 26th, 2006 at 10:06 am
Reading your blog, it was as if it could of been written by me. I am a single, a couple of years younger than yourself, and was diagnosed with an infertilty problem a few years ago. I am currently starting on the adoption rollercoaster. I too feel there are some things I wanted to do, like breastfeed, feel a baby kick etc! But alas, here I am and I have no doubt once my baby is placed in my arms, it will be mine, no if’s and’s or but’s!