Why Don't You Just Adopt

Several days ago, someone asked if my opinion on adoption had changed over the years. Did I wish that we had adopted earlier instead of pursuing fertility treatments? Do I think more of my dear infertility sisters should adopt? Basically, am I in camp "Why Don't You just Adopt (Already)?"

Loaded questions right? I garbled out an answer about respecting everyone's journey and always being pro-adoption and pro-fertility treatments, but truthfully, my real feelings are much, much deeper and more complex. Far, far more complex than anyone wants to hear likely, but that's why blogs were invented, right? So it seemed fitting as I mulled over these questions and my answers for the last few days that I post this today. Why? Because four years ago today was my egg retrieval in Jacksonville, Florida. It honestly seems like an entire lifetime ago. I've learned so much, experienced so much since then.

When you are outspoken about your struggles with infertility, you will inevitably find kindhearted, well-meaning people who want to share their advice. Truthfully, I got just as much "Have you tried this herbal supplement/tea/product?" as I did the adoption question. All of the questions, though from a place of good intentions, eventually start to wear on you, but the adoption one, well, nothing seems to get an infertile girls hackles up quite like that one.

I'll be honest. I do wish more of my infertility sisters would be open to adoption, but not because that's the solution to infertility or because it's their responsibility to end the orphan crisis. Nope, nope, double nope. It is neither. I simply wish more people who struggle with infertility would be open to adoption because I truly believe that they can find happiness down that road. True, not second best, but blissful happiness through adoption. But I also wish more people with the ability to procreate like rabbits would also consider adoption.

For so many who struggle with infertility, I think the fear of giving up the genetic connection or the process of carrying the child just seems insurmountable. How could you possibly be happy without that? I don't know. I can tell you I was the first one to say that my desire to carry a child would NEVER go away. I just knew I could adopt ten kids and I'd still want to give birth with every fiber of being. And then I adopted one kid and the desire evaporated into thin air. It doesn't for everyone. I know quite a few adoptive moms who struggled with infertility who will be the first to tell you that the desire remained to feel their son or daughter kick, to experience child birth. But those same women would also say that even without that, they are unequivocally happy with their lives, their children, with their family.

Others may simply be afraid of adoption. Afraid of failed adoptions. Afraid of the process. Afraid of the costs. (Here, I'll pause to say that yes, both infertility treatments and adoption can cost A LOT of money. But for many, infertility treatments are, at least in part, covered by insurance. So yes, adoption can be quite a bit more costly then even multiple rounds of IVF, depending on what state you live in.) Still others may not be able to adopt. Typically, there's not a whole lot of say in who does and doesn't get to try infertility treatments. BMI and age are typically really the only questionable factors there, and truly, that's because the clinics want successes just as much as the patients. Successes mean more patients which means more money. But believe me, there is a whole panel of people who will access your ability to adopt a child, and some may simply know that they don't qualify.

So yes, I'm more than happy to encourage a seeking infertility sister (and really ANYONE) down the road of adoption, but, and it's a BIG but, I truly, truly, truly, with every fiber of my being believe it's not the answer to infertility. Adoption is simply not the one size fits all answer to infertility. It's just not. Adoption is the most complex and complicated world I have ever stepped foot in. While I would encourage anyone thinking about adoption to move forward even in the midst of their fears and concerns and all of the unknowns, I would halt anyone (infertile or otherwise) in their tracks if they aren't ready, willing, and able to dive into the deep end of adoption.

What does the deep end look like? It looks like trauma. It looks like parenting a child of another race in the middle of your little white suburbia. It looks like loss. It looks like sacrificing your own desires to show love and accept the desires of the birth/first family. It looks like anger. It looks like dealing with choices that you didn't make for your child, but that were made long before you were ever in the picture. It looks like confusion. It looks like understanding that time may not heal all wounds.

Is the deep end the place every adoptive parent ends up? No! Absolutely not! There are undoubtedly adoption experiences in which the child is healthy with absolutely no health issues from prenatal or pre-adoption experiences. There are certainly families that have happy, simple, peaceful relationships with the birth family. There are definitely children who grow up at peace with their adoption experience and their family. But these are not guaranteed experiences. NO MATTER WHAT. Not if you adopt at infant. Not if you adopt a girl. Not if you adopt a child that was never exposed to drugs/alcohol. Not if you adopt a boy. Not if you adopt a child of the same race. Not if you adopt a child from a different country. Not if you adopt an older child. There is no magic secret to "success." And if you are unwilling or unable to walk into the world of adoption knowing that you may plunge head first into the deep end, then you should walk away. And if you are unwilling or unable to walk into the adoption world knowing that the first few years may be only ankle deep, but that years from now you could be treading water in the deep, you should walk away.

Adoption is absolutely, without a doubt the single greatest thing about my life. I pray that the rest of my days on this earth are spent shouting the worth of orphans and vulnerable children around the world. It is my life's greatest honor to be an adoptive mama and I am THRILLED when others choose to join me, but that in no way means that I'm tossing out "Why don't you just adopt?" when someone is struggling with infertility. No. Uh-uh.

So that answers the last two questions, but what about the first one? Do I wish we'd chosen adoption earlier over infertility treatments? Do I regret our decision to pursue artificial reproductive technology? Honestly, in almost every way I do. Infertility treatments broke me. I look back on that season of life, and while I'm crazy thankful for the relationships I made and the things I learned, I do not like the person I was then. I was angry. I was bitter. I was sad. And that's not to blame treatments. My attitude is on me, but man the month after month of brokenheartedness, the roller coaster of emotions, always believing that the next thing/cycle/med/doctor might be the one...it was too much. At least for me. Other friends handled it like champions, so I don't say that to discourage anyone from trying, but I am not proud of the person I was back then. My faith was tested in ways that I couldn't imagine; I can't honestly say that I came out all that refined from the fire. I came out burnt crispy and confused. So yes, in many ways I wish I had gone counter to what most of my infertility sisters were doing and walked straight towards adoption.

However, that's really easy to say with hindsight. But with distance we begin to forget that it just wasn't that simple. Sam and I hadn't been married long enough, weren't old enough, didn't have enough income, etc. to adopt in almost every scenario when we started infertility treatments in January 2012. And on January 9, 2014 when they harvested eggs from my body with the hope of a child in the future, it seemed like it was absolutely the right choice for us. It didn't work, and so it's easy to say we were wrong, but I kind of wonder if in some ways I needed to walk all the way through infertility treatments to the very end. Maybe I was being more refined than I remember. I can tell you there was something earth-shattering, heartbreaking, and life-altering about receiving the phone call two days later in which we learned that our embryos were fragile, that they were dying. I realized with immense gravity just how little control I had. So yes, I regret the thousands upon thousands of dollars we spent on infertility treatments that failed. And I even regret losing so many of my years on fighting the battle of infertility treatments. But ultimately, if you believe in some sort of X had to happen so that Y was possible and that allowed for Z, well then I'm right where I am meant to be and I'm thankful that they wheeled me back to surgery four years ago today. On the cusp of being the mom of two stunningly beautiful children with heart-achingly beautiful stories, well I'd be afraid to rewrite even one word of the story, because this is as good as it gets.