The End of the Journey

The comments I've received since we announced our decision to adopt have been nothing but positive. I don't know why, but I was really expecting some push back. I've been so pleased and encouraged by the excitement and enthusiasm from all of our friends. In fact, I'd say that our friends here in Athens have been WAY more excited about the adoption than IVF last winter. All I can say is thank you all times a billion for supporting us and thank you for never, ever, not once asking "why don't you guys adopt?" even if you thought it 10 billion times along the way. The decision to pursue fertility treatments, or adopt, or live child free, or pray and wait, or whatever, it's all intensely personal. Sam and I had to make this decision in our own time when we felt ready, so thank you all for respecting us and our feelings during this journey.

One comment that I've received in various forms from multiple people is this: "I'm so glad this journey is coming to an end for you guys!" The comment doesn't bother me, but it's really got me thinking. And again, all of this is immensely personal, so what I think and feel about this is most certainly not universal. Other APs (adoptive parents) and PAPs (prospective adoptive parents) who are parenting after infertility may feel completely different. For me, adoption doesn't feel like the end of the journey. I've wrestled with that thought for the last few weeks. Should it? Why doesn't it? Does it mean I'm not invested in adoption as much as I thought? Eventually, I've come to this conclusion: Infertility has affected me in many ways, and the inability to start our family and become parents is only ONE of those ways. There are a lot of other areas besides parenthood that infertility has affected, other areas in which I feel robbed and beaten. So for me, adoption only "solves" part of the problem or "ends" part of our journey.

Here's an example: Infertility has also prevented me from (thus far) carrying a child. And for me, that's always been a really big part of the pain. I've always imagined myself pregnant. Before I had any clue about infertility, I imagined myself as a stay at home mom with a whole basketball team in the making. I literally wanted  to be the stereotype of barefoot and pregnant. I looked at maternity photo shoots and dreamed of how radiant I would look, how beautiful my bump would be, how perfect everything would be. I've dreamed of feeling my son or daughter kick and twist and dance inside of my womb for years. It is a longing deep in my heart. I have cried more tears over the potential loss of that dream than the potential loss of a genetic connection to my child ten million times over. I can hear some of you thinking, "pregnancy's not all it's cracked up to be". I get that. I fully recognize that I have a rose-colored glasses view of pregnancy and child birth. I know that for many women it sucks. I know you feel anything but radiant, anything but beautiful, and anything but perfect. I know that often times pregnancy makes you feel miserably sick, bloated, exhausted, fat, cranky, ugly and any number of other things. I'm not living under a rock: I know it's not all sunshine and roses. Good grief, for some of you pregnancy is dangerous. I know that has to be terrifying. Believe me, even if I ignore every complaint from every girl on Facebook, I've read enough from my infertile sisters to know that even after wanting it SO bad for SO long, it's not always the dream we hoped for. And I also know this: infertility and miscarriage has robbed my of ever truly enjoying pregnancy. I will be an anxious, sleepless mess as I count down the days until the due date. But, I still believe that in the midst of the anxiety, feeling that first nudge, that kick to tell me my baby is alive and growing, will be worth any stress, anxiety, or worry. I get that pregnancy is not what I imagined, now what I dream of, but here's the thing: I still want it. I want it really, really bad. And adoption doesn't solve that "problem" for me.

I've been told by countless people that my attitude and opinion of pregnancy and child birth will probably change once I've got my baby in my arms... that the other stuff simply won't matter as much after that. Maybe that will be true. I certainly hope so, but somehow, I doubt it. Don't get me wrong. I will be THRILLED to have my son or daughter. We will love him/her like any other child. We will finally be parents and it will be AWESOME. But every adoption begins with loss (I'm learning that more and more every day). Our son or daughter will have lost the only person he/she has ever known. The baby will be placed in my arms, a stranger's arms, and that baby will know loss. I will know loss too, and so will Sam. We will have gained much through adoption, but we will have lost out on those first 9 months of our child's life. We will have lost out on the doctor's appointments, the ultrasound photos, lounging in bed watching my belly jump, talking to our baby, etc. I sort of feel that I'm in a "wait and see" stage. I don't know how I'll feel about a future pregnancy and my infertility struggles after welcoming our son or daughter home. Maybe everyone will be right, maybe I won't care one bit about the other stuff. It's certainly possible. What I will gain far surpasses what I'll have lost. But maybe I'll still have that desire deep, deep down in my heart that aches for all that I have lost.

Infertility has also given me a slightly defeatist complex. I won't say this is a trait of all infertile women, not by a long shot. For some, infertility makes them feel strong, empowered, confident. I am definitely the opposite. I feel weak and broken and defeated when I think of myself in terms of infertility. I've given everything I've got and then some, but I have not beaten infertility, at least not yet. Some APs who are parenting after infertility may feel differently. They may feel like they did beat infertility, like their adoption conquered the disease. But for me, when I think about overcoming infertility; when I think about healing from this battle, I think of labor and delivery... that is the moment I will have won. Can I live without beating infertility? Definitely. There is still A LOT of happiness available to us without winning this war. If I didn't think we could live a full, happy life without conquering our infertility, we wouldn't be pursuing adoption. We aren't going into adoption from a defeated stand point. We have much to gain, and if we never feel as if we've overcome infertility, we'll learn to deal with it and be happy with the family we've been blessed to create.

Don't get me wrong, we are ECSTATIC about the potential to become parents. Parenthood has felt so far and hard for so long. The idea that I might actually sing my child lullabies or rock my baby to sleep, or read my toddler a bed time story... it's almost more than my mind has the potential to process. I've spent so much time trying not to think about those things, it feels foreign (and premature) to even imagine that kind of happiness. But adoption doesn't feel like the end of this journey, at least not for me. Adoption allows us to start our family, and that is HUGE, mind blowing, monumental, bigger than life, but not the end. I still feel inextricably connected to the infertility and TTC community. We're certainly not trying to conceive right now, but I can't imagine never trying again. Infertility is still a HUGE part of my life, and I don't foresee that changing. Yes, lots of things will change if I become a parent through adoption. I'm sure how, and when, and why we move towards additional TTC options will change. It won't just be about us and our desires any longer, it'll be about our family and what is best for our child. But ultimately, I don't see this as an end to my journey. Maybe it is, and I just can't see it, but for now, I'm saying this journey continues on. I'm not done with infertility, and I can guarantee it's not done with me.