Baby showers

So this is something I’ve been thinking about for a while…  For the last two and a half years, I have been avoiding baby showers at work.  And there have been quite a few.  Even with skipping the shower, I’m still guaranteed to cry at least once, at some point during the day.  It has been almost 10 months since we decided we were done trying to get pregnant, but that loss – not being able to get pregnant – is still very, very real.

I’ve told quite a few people at work (including my supervisor) that we’re getting licensed for foster care.  And people have been really supportive.  My supervisor has talked with me a couple times about having a baby shower.  But I have mixed feelings about it.  I really appreciate the support and acceptance and excitement, but there are a few reasons I’m not sure I want to have a baby shower.

First, while I have been fairly open about our infertility with people I know well, there are a lot of people at work who *don’t* know.  And I’m not sure I want to open my life up for speculation.  I’m obviously not pregnant, so I worry what assumptions other people might make.  I know people are probably going to find out that I’m doing foster care, and I’ve been trying to tell people little by little, I’m just not sure I want such a public announcement of it.

Second, it’s just different.  I’m not pregnant.  Whatever baby gets placed with me won’t even be “my” baby (while I can hope for adoption, I can’t expect it).  And even though I need baby things, I have no way of knowing what things I’m actually going to need: boy or girl? 1 month old or 8 months old?  I know this probably isn’t true, but I kind of feel like I don’t deserve all of the baby shower stuff as much as someone who is pregnant – I’m not really doing anything – I’m not bringing life into the world, I’m not even (necessarily) giving a child a permanent home.  I would NEVER say that about anyone else adopting or doing foster care, which is why I know it’s not an accurate thought, it’s just kind of how I’m feeling about myself right now.

And third, I don’t know if I can just switch like that – change from dreading and avoiding baby showers, to actually enjoying one.  I think the baby shower would be another reminder of what I’m not going to have.  It would bring mixed feelings.  I guess I should be used to that by now; a lot of things bring mixed feelings.

Does anyone have any thoughts or suggestions?  My best idea so far is to wait until after I have a baby placed with me – then I’ll know what I actually need, and the baby can be the center of attention instead of me.

Random thoughts

I keep thinking about stuff to blog about, but I never seem to actually make myself sit down to write anything out.  So, in an effort to write something, I’m just going to write some of the bits and pieces I’ve been thinking about.

We’re still moving toward getting licensed for foster care.  And every step forward brings on a whole new wave of grief and loss.  At least I’m coming to expect it now, so I’m not caught off guard quite so much.  On top of the sadness, there are so many fears that come and go too.  The biggest one is that I’ll have a baby placed with me, fall completely in love (of course), and then lose the baby to someone else – I’m not sure how I feel about putting myself in a position to get hurt like that again.  Especially when I’m still dealing with so much of the hurt and pain that came with infertility.  Like I said, we’re still moving forward, and it still feels like the right decision for us, it’s just been kind of an emotional roller coaster.

And then there’s the whole “trying to figure out where I belong” thing.  I’m part of the minority of women who don’t get pregnant after infertility, but in some ways I don’t know if my infertility experience counts as much.  Or something.  I only had two cycles that could even kind of be counted as treatment cycles, and I never did IVF.  We hadn’t even been trying for “that long” when we gave up (not quite three years at that point).  And it was my choice to stop, my decision to not try IVF.  So I don’t think I quite qualify as being an “infertility veteran”.  I don’t know, maybe the real issue is that I’m still coping with feeling like I never even had a chance.  I’ve had more than 50 “opportunities” to get pregnant at this point (some day maybe I’ll stop counting), but I didn’t really have a chance of getting pregnant from any of those.  I wanted to try IVF, just once, before “giving up”, just so I would know I had my one chance.  And I guess not having that chance is one more loss I’m trying to deal with.

There have been other things coming up too, but at least I posted something.

Just because…

The last three weeks I’ve gone to a class about attachment offered through our local foster care education program.  This poem outline was given to us as a possible tool to use when helping foster/adopted kids cope with some of their losses.  Here’s my version of it; feel free to leave your version of it in a comment- I would love to read how other people are feeling.

◊

Just because I’m infertile,

Doesn’t mean I’m not good enough,

Doesn’t mean I’m undeserving,

Doesn’t mean I’m broken beyond repair.

I’m becoming stronger.

◊

Just because I can’t get pregnant

Doesn’t mean I’m not happy for others,

Doesn’t mean I have to be angry and bitter,

Doesn’t mean I’m unable to see the difficulties of motherhood through another woman’s eyes.

I’m more compassionate.

◊

Just because I’m not trying anymore,

Doesn’t mean I’m giving up,

Doesn’t mean I don’t have a right to grieve,

Doesn’t mean I will never be a mom.

I’m pushing forward.

◊

Just because I’m choosing to parent someone else’s child,

Doesn’t mean I’m not sad,

Doesn’t mean I’m “over it”,

Doesn’t mean I’m not still hurting.

I’m taking one day at a time

◊

Just because I’m going to be a foster mom,

Doesn’t mean I won’t experience more loss,

Doesn’t mean “my” child will forever (legally) be mine,

Doesn’t mean I’m going to love my child and less than I would love a child I gave birth to.

I’m willing to give my heart.

◊

Just because I want to adopt,

Doesn’t mean I’m not going to mourn all the little parts of being pregnant that I’m going to miss,

Doesn’t mean my heart won’t ache when I see a pregnant belly or hear about another baby shower,

Doesn’t mean I’m done with the tears.

I’m capable of surviving the pain

◊

I’m infertile; I can’t get pregnant.

I’m not trying anymore; I’m choosing to parent someone else’s child.

I’m going to be a foster mom, I want to adopt.

◊

But through this journey,

I do have more strength,

I am more compassionate,

I can push forward,

I’m learning to take one day at a time,

I want to give my heart,

And, I’m capable of surviving the pain.

◊

routers and references

Two things in the last few days have made me realize just how much I depend on the internet for social connectedness.

When I got home from work (really late) last Thursday, I discovered that our wireless router had died.  I have no idea *how* it died, but it was definitely non-functional.  Meaning, I had no internet access.  I seriously thought about driving to the 24 hour Starbucks that’s not far from home, just so I could check my email, and Facebook, and Google reader.  But I had already taken my sleeping pill, so I decided driving might not be such a smart idea.  I felt so disconnected from everything.

And then on Sunday, I was trying to start filling out foster care application paperwork.  And one of the forms wants references.  I have no clue who to put for those.  Since getting stuck in this infertility nightmare, I’ve withdrawn from a lot most of my “real life” friends.  Online friends have been my main source of support for the last couple years.

I guess it might be time to try to join the real world a little more.  I’m not sure if I’m ready for that though.

insecurity

First of all, I want to say thank you to the commenters on my last post who told me it was okay to skip the baby shower at work.  It was earlier this week, and I did skip it.  I still ended up crying, but at least I felt like I was taking care of myself.

We decided to do foster-to-adopt a few months ago.  And we’ve been on hold for a while because we were waiting to buy a house.  So the decision was made, but I wasn’t really having to actively deal with it.

We found a house.  We’re in escrow, and everything looks good, and we should be able to move in sometime in the first half of July.  And I’m supposed to start filling out the foster care license application.

Insecurity setting in.

What if I’m not “ready” for this?  I really want to, and I am excited about it, but I’m a little overwhelmed too.  I’ve been waiting over three years to have a baby, and now it might happen “just like that.”  With doing foster care, we won’t have any idea of when, or how old, or anything else. So many unknowns.

I’m also feeling kind of inferior to other moms.  I won’t have any part in the creation and formation of my child.  Doing the mommy show-and-tell just won’t be the same; my baby will be someone else’s “accomplishment” (for lack of a better word).  My child won’t even truly be mine until adoption papers are signed.  That could be a couple years, or it could be never- I might have to let “my” child go back to his or her birth family.  How do I make my child feel loved and secure, and guard my heart at the same time?

I worry about my job too.  I love my job, but it’s hard, and it takes a lot of my time and energy.  I need to find more balance in my life- I can’t be working all the time and have a baby.  I also worry what people at work are going to think about me.  My supervisor knows how much I struggle to get all of my paperwork done, I’ve already gotten in trouble for it a couple of times.  What if people at work think I’m being irresponsible, or stupid, to take on additional responsibilities (a baby) when I’m having a hard enough time doing the things that are on my plate now?  And again, doing it through foster care/adoption seems different- I’m going out of my way to have a child, it’s not something that just happened.  What if people think I’m not taking my job seriously enough?

The prospect of foster care becoming more real also means that my decision to stop trying to get pregnant is becoming more real.  And that’s bringing up a lot of the sadness again.

I just feel so unsettled and so unsure of myself.

“Get over it”

I wouldn’t say that to anyone else going through infertility, so why do I keep saying it to myself?  I *know* this isn’t something that I’m going to just “get over,” but on some level…

Today at work, I overheard a conversation about having a baby shower for a co-worker who is due in June (with her second, btw).  About ten minutes later I could hear a baby crying a few offices down from mine.  Crying babies are one of the worst triggers for me – almost anytime I hear a baby crying it’s like a stab in the heart, even if I’m completely involved in something and infertility and babies are the farthest thing from my mind.  Those two little things were enough to leave me feeling sad the rest of the day.

And that’s how it always happens.  Something that seems like it shouldn’t be a big deal, can completely ruin my day.  I try to talk myself out of it – I’ll get to be a mom… someday.  I’m excited about moving toward adopting from foster care.  I try to work through it – Just because I feel sad doesn’t mean I can’t get anything done.  I can cry and do paperwork at the same time.  I try to ignore it – I don’t have time to feel sad; I need to get this, that, and the other thing done before I can go home today.  But none of those really help.  I’m getting better at working through it, and at finding things to do that don’t take a whole lot of effort or concentration, but it still ruins my productivity for the whole day.

So all of that brings me back to “I have to get over this.”  I don’t want infertility to have so much control over my life.  I need to toughen up a little, so that these tiny little things don’t ruin my whole day.  I have to figure out how to let it go, move on, get a grip, and snap out of it.

I wonder sometimes if I’m letting myself stay stuck in this.  Maybe I should be farther along in the “grieving process” than I am?  That baby shower at work is in one month.  I’ve been avoiding baby showers for a loooong time, and I know this one is entirely optional.  But am I going to avoid baby showers for the rest of my life?  When does it get to the point when I just have to jump back into the fertile world?  (No matter how much it hurts.)  How do I know when enough is enough, and when I really am supposed to just “get over it”?

catching up

It’s been about four months since my last post, so this will probably be a random update post.

My husband and I have stuck with the decision we made in December: we’re done trying to get pregnant and we’re going to work toward adoption.  I went through about two months of extreme grief – crying all the time, feeling like I was going to break into a million pieces, “knowing” that life would get better but not being able to see it, feeling like I couldn’t breathe… the works.

I knew I wanted to go through the county I live in to adopt from foster care.  We don’t have the money right now for international adoption or domestic infant adoption, and I’m so tired of waiting.  Plus I work with foster kids, so I feel like I have at least some idea of what I’m getting into.  (Yes, I know being a parent for a foster child is VERY different than being a therapist for a foster child, but at least I have a general idea of issues we might face.)  Our county foster care program had pre-licensure classes scheduled, in the town I live in, in February.  I signed us up for the first class- just to get more information.  I had no intention of doing the whole series; I didn’t think I was ready to move forward with adoption.  The first class was wonderful though, and I came away from it actually feeling some hope.  So we decided to do the rest of the classes.

Before we can get licensed to do foster care, we need to take a couple classes in May, and we need to move.  The house we’re renting is going to be sold, and we need a house with more bedrooms anyway.  So we’re looking for a house we want to buy.  I also need to decide how much risk I’m willing to take with having a child placed with us.  We could say we only want a child who is already legally freed for adoption, but that would probably mean waiting longer, and it would decrease the chance of getting a baby.  I really want a baby.  But if we agree to take a child who will potentially be reunified with their parents, or who might be placed with a relative, then I might have my heart broken.  Again.  Plus, with doing foster care, we won’t have any idea of when we might get a child.  It will likely mean that one day we don’t have any kids, and the next day we do.  All of a sudden.  That’s a little overwhelming to think about.  I know this is the path I want to take, I’m just not quite ready to jump in.

I’m still dealing with the huge loss of not being able to be pregnant.  This month it has been even worse, because it’s my birthday at the end of the month.  And I’m turning 30.  I never thought I would hit 30 and still not have any kids.  We started trying to get pregnant when I was 26.  And last year around this time, I told my husband I wanted to do an IVF cycle by the time I turned 30.  And that’s obviously not happening.  As soon as April started, the sadness became so much more intense.  Not as intense as it was in December, but probably close.  Last Wednesday someone brought their new baby to work for show-and-tell; I literally spent the rest of the afternoon crying.  And last Thursday I started cycle number 46.  (Yes, I’m still counting.  Probably another sign that I’m not ready to foster/adopt yet.)  I’ve had 45 chances to get pregnant.  And 45 times that it hasn’t happened.  And it’s not going to happen.  No eggs + no sperm = no baby.  So that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but it’s close enough.

I haven’t changed my mind about our decision to give up trying to get pregnant.  Not once.  But it’s still not an easy decision to make.  And there are so many reminders in everyday life, of what I have lost.

There have been good things too though.  The woman who runs the foster care program for my county has been really supportive.  I have a few people in my life, including my wonderful husband, who take the time to listen, who acknowledge my pain, and who are willing to just be there through all of my tears.  My family has been very supportive of our decision to adopt from foster care.  And I do have some hope again.

And I’m going to Dis.neyland for my birthday.  I love going there, I haven’t been for eight or nine years, and my husband has never been.  And I need the escape from reality, in a place where I won’t have much time to think.  Not to mention the fact that it gives me something to obsess about until then.  My poor husband is going to be tired of Dis.neyland before he even gets there!  I know there are lots of little kids at Dis.neyland; I have every intention of ignoring them.  And I’m at least prepared for it, so I won’t be caught off guard.

Anyway, that’s where my life is right now.  Hopefully it won’t be another four months before I post again…

I think . . .

that we’re done trying to get pregnant. 

We kind of decided last week. 

A lot of things went into the decision, but it feels like the “right” decision to both of us.  It’s not the decision I want to make though.  I hate feeling like I need to be responsible.

I’m not coping very well.  I’m heartbroken.  And I have been hesitant to tell people, because I don’t want the “support” of someone trying to give me a list of reasons why I don’t have to give up (I know people mean well, I just don’t think I can handle that right now).  I have met SO many wonderful women who have gone through infertility, but most of them have gotten pregnant.  I don’t know many women who have had to face the reality of never knowing what it feels like to be pregnant.  I know it’s a huge loss, and it makes sense that I’m having a hard time, but it also feels like it doesn’t really count- they don’t exactly make sympathy cards that say “I’m sorry you can’t get pregnant.”  I still have to go to work, I still have to get everything done.  I still have to pretend to be normal and at least moderately happy.

I hate this.  How can something hurt so much?

What if . . .

I’m really not very good at this blogging thing- it’s been a month and a half since my last post.  Life has just been so overwhelming.  Work, infertility, depression, my husband’s depression . . . I’ve been in survival mode.  I’m exhausted.

(warning: religious/spiritual contemplation below)

I went to church today.  I really should go more often than I do, but I just don’t make it very often.  And I end up crying, at least a little, almost every time I go.  Lots of babies at church.  Today was worse than usual because they were doing baby dedications (I escaped to the bathroom).  It was one of those times when the tears were just falling, and there wasn’t really anything I could do to stop them.

The sermon was about trusting in God, and about how sometimes that means letting go of whatever branch you’re clinging to.  It wasn’t really what I needed wanted to hear.  I’m going through this phase again- wondering if doing an IVF cycle is really the *right* thing to do.  Doing IVF would mean getting a $15,000 (give or take a couple thousand) loan.  And my FSH is high enough that there’s a much better chance that IVF won’t work than that it will.  So that leaves me wondering if it’s really worth doing.

What if I’m not supposed to do an IVF cycle?

What if I’m supposed to just give up?

What if that’s God’s plan for me?

I’m *terrified* that God might ask me to give up on getting pregnant.  To let it go.  I don’t want to give up.  I want at least ONE chance to get pregnant.  Even if I honestly don’t believe it’s going to work.  I’m not ready to give up.

But maybe I’m supposed to.  I believe that God has children “picked out” for me- biological or adopted.  And I believe that God’s plan is good.  But good is very different than easy.  And based on previous experiences, I have absolutely NO expectation that God will make things easy.  I kind of expect the opposite- that things are going to be hard.  And based on that expectation . . . maybe I’m not supposed to do IVF.

I don’t know if any of this even makes sense; I’m not exactly sure how to put all of my thoughts and feelings into words.

I really don’t want to give up on the hope that I will someday be pregnant.  I’m not ready to let that dream go.  But what if that’s what God is asking me to do?

What if . . . ?

Energy crisis

The last few days I have been realizing just how much energy goes into “keeping it together”.  I have been sick since my last post- cramps and the flu all in one day, how lucky can I be?  And with having the flu, I have had absolutely ZERO energy.  Meaning that the teensy-tiny bit of energy I have had (okay, I guess that’s a little more than zero) has been used for things like getting out of bed, getting another glass of orange juice, moving my laptop from the bedroom to the couch, and pushing buttons on the remote control.  No leftover energy for keeping sadness and bitterness in check.

I had two major meltdowns over the weekend.  Two.  Major meltdowns.  Sobbing uncontrollably for an extended period of time, collapsed on the floor, absolutely no rational thoughts whatsoever.  I’m sure anyone going through infertility knows the type.  Both of the meltdowns started from arguments with my husband but quickly deteriorated into “I’m never going to have kids”  “I must be a terrible person who doesn’t deserve to have kids”  “My husband would be better off with someone who actually has eggs” . . .

All of the irrational thoughts that I normally try to ignore (with at least moderate success).  Apparently more energy goes into that than I realized.  And apparently having the flu is no better for my mental health than it is for my physical health.

I’m starting to feel better, so hopefully I can divert some of the regained energy back into controlling the infertility madness.  If not, it’s going to be a very long week at work.

Sigh.