I’m being a horrible blogger… Ihaven’t posted in months. And this is going to be a really quick post, because I’m running late for work.
We’re licensed for foster care! We had our home inspection last week, and we’re officially licensed. Which means, in theory, I could get a call for a foster baby any day now. I’m a little nervous, but excited.
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.
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.
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.
◊
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
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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.
◊
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.
◊
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.
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.
