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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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.

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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?