Fear and Guilt

Well first of all I feel like I've got to get a few things out of the way. First, thank you all for the love and support as we welcome home our son in the most unexpected way. It's been two full weeks since we met, and everyday just gets better. I know for many of you reading this your heart still hurts. Your arms ache for a son or daughter of your own. Believe me friends, I still remember, so thank you for your love, encouraging words, and sweet gifts in a time where you yourself are not rejoicing. We continue to feel so loved. Secondly, as the last few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind, I'm sure some of you are confused... Since when does Amanda have a son? Don't worry, I think those same things everyday. You can get caught up on the story here and here.

You guys, mom guilt is real. I hadn't even met my son when I first felt guilty. The Friday night that we told the agency we were coming down for him, was a restless night. Sam was out of town trying to be responsible and focus on the continuing education course that his employer had already purchased. Anytime Sam's gone, my sleep suffers, but this night I had quite a bit to think about. I finally went to sleep only to wake up feeling miserably guilty and devastated that my son wouldn't be breastfed. This is in no way a statement for or against breastfeeding. I actually didn't realize I felt so strongly about breastfeeding until that moment. I had done a lot of research and intended to induce lactation if I had four or more weeks notice, but I knew (or at least I thought I knew) that sometimes breastfeeding is just not an option in adoption. And truthfully, a large part of my desire to breastfeed was for bonding and attachment. But that night I woke up and just felt so insanely guilty that I couldn't breastfeed this precious little boy. 

I still feel guilty about it. Just about every healthcare professional has recommended breastmilk for my little guy for one reason or another. Thankfully my cousin had a baby just a few days after he was born and she has donated some, but I still feel guilty that I, his mom, has to rely on someone else to provide for him. Honestly, it's probably a pride thing more than anything else. I've slowly come to see that this is just one of 10,000 things that I will probably feel guilty for over the next 20 or so years. 

Another thing that I'm coming to terms with is that motherhood is full of fears, or at least my experience is. There's obviously the very real possibility that the birth father could still come forward, and if I think on it too long, that fear is crippling. In true ignorance is bliss fashion, I generally don't think about it. But there are plenty of other fears that I do think about. I think most new moms worry if their babies are breathing. I'm no different. In fact, coming out of the NICU may be worse. In the NICU I had a monitor to tell me his heart rate, breathing rate, and oxygen levels. I literally sat for hours watching the green, yellow, and blue lines. Some times those lines were really scary. Alarms would go off. Nurses would come check on him. Now we're off the monitors and there's nothing to tell me if his heart rate is too high, or, more likely, if his oxygen levels are dangerously low. 

In addition to normal new mom fears like "is he breathing," "is he eating enough," or "is he in pain," I keep having reoccurring nightmares where he dies in some awful way. When we were in the hotel, I dreamed the hotel caught on fire and we were trapped inside. The firemen couldn't get to our window so they screamed that I should toss him. You can imagine what happened, I'm sure. I also regularly have images flash through my head of tripping, dropping him, falling on him, etc. I've watched his little head bust open on the concrete in my mind so many times.

In the midst of my self doubt, guilt, and fears, I'm learning a lot, not the least of which is one handed typing. I'm also learning to love and trust in whole new ways. A sweet friend shared this with me, and I'm finding it to be a great reminder every day. She said, "God loves and cares for him even more than you and Sam do and will take care of him." Thankful that that is true. The Lord promises that he knew my little guy long before I even knew he existed, and He has loved him well.

That's all that I can type with two fingers today, except that I'll add this: my dear, sweet friend A found out last Thursday that her fifth transfer failed. She is now out of frozen embryos, which is completely heartbreaking! She is also preparing to switch clinics which is incredibly overwhelming! Do me a favor and stop by her blog and give her some love and support. She's a one in a million and I'm rooting for her until she brings her baby home!

Baby Snuggles in the Sunshine State

Well, I had all of these grand plans for more posts last week after the BIG NEWS (in case you missed it, catch up here), but every day has just been absolutely packed. Between discharge day from the hospital, follow-up pediatrician appt, attempting to start a registry, trying to arrange daycare, there's just been very little down time. I'm currently holding a sleepy baby and typing this out on the blogger app (ughh). And I probably won't even proofread this (sorry).

On Thursday of last week, we got the all clear to leave the hospital. He was in the NICU (level 3 NICU) for nine days, but we missed all of that. The switch to the NICU Step Down (level 2) is actually what prompted our agency to go ahead and call us that Friday. I want to write more about the NICU experience later, but for now, I just feel like I have to say, my experience was nothing like so many others. I almost feel weird saying he was in the NICU. To me, NICU conjures up the idea of VERY sick babies... Neonatal INTENSIVE CARE UNIT. I mean if your spouse gets checked into the ICU, you'd be freaking out. I was never really all that freaked. I mean I hated all of the beeping, the wires, etc, but I was never actually concerned that anything really awful was going to happen. I was simply waiting to get out. I don't take that for granted. I know many of you have had vastly different hospital and NICU experiences. And truthfully, as I still don't have access to complete medical records, I'm not sure if his first nine days were awful and terrifying, or just routine. 

Discharge day finally came on Thursday, so I actually only had about four days in the NICU Step Down with him. He spent a total of fifteen days in the hospital. Which after just my short stint with him in the NICU, I've already learned what a blessing healthy children are. 

We're currently waiting to get cleared from Georgia to come home. I'm trying to remain calm, but I admit that I am so ready. Keeping a two week old premie in a hotel is interesting... and costs a lot of money in quarters for laundry.

Sam came down for the weekend and then went back for work last night. Bless his little hard-working heart. He's already such a good provider. I'm currently not getting paid, which obviously sucks. When I think with a rational brain, I realize that I have to go back to work. And I'm thankful that I actually really like my job, as I'm sure that will help when the time comes. But when I think about the fact that I'm already on week two of six of maternity leave, I feel like I might die. How in the world am I supposed to leave this teeny tiny baby with strangers in just five weeks?!? And they will absolutely be strangers. I have no time to set up appointments, tour facilities, anything like that. I've done what I can by asking people I trust, and I'm just praying the pieces fall into place. We're currently first in line at our top choice, but there's no way to know if that spot will open in time. And so far, a backup plan isn't working out, but something will fall into place, I'm sure. 

Motherhood is still really surreal. Mother's Day popped into my head the other day and my initial reaction was still sadness... it was about five minutes before I realized things have changed. Mother's Day won't feel like that this year. I'm not sure if I'm still in shock, or subconsciously worried about the birth father, but it definitely doesn't feel real yet. It feels like I'm babysitting for a long time. Maybe it's going to take time. We're halfway through the birth father's time and we haven't heard a word from him. Unfortunately for us, he also hasn't signed away his rights (which would end the 30 days immediately). So we wait. 

I'll certainly let you know once we're headed home... should be a really fun car ride. Thank you all for the outpouring of love and support last week. We continue to feel so blessed by all of you! Off to snuggle my itty bitty baby. I hear he won't be little for long. 

In the Blink of an Eye

Things can change fast in the adoption world, really, really, really fast. I left you last time with the news that we were not chosen by the expectant mother. A LOT has changed since then! So let's just get to it as I'm too tired to draw this out and add any suspense.

I'm currently in Jacksonville, Florida with my son… yep, you read that right. My SON! How the heck did this happen? That's what you're thinking, right? Don't worry me too. I've lived it and I still don't fully understand how all of this happened. The last seven days have been filled with the most surreal moments of my life. Friday, February 27th was the day we found our we weren't chosen. That was admittedly a very low day. I was crushed for a lot of reasons, and really just emotionally spent. It had been a week since I'd heard we were one of two couples, a week of praying, preparing, worrying, losing sleep… such highs to such lows. After that Friday, I was just kind of numb. Every case that I received from our consultant just seemed so hopeless and pointless (and expensive). I was pretty down. And then on Thursday, March 5th, I got a series of emails from two different case workers with the same agency as before: could Sam and I make arrangements to call them that day? No additional details, but I knew something was up. I immediately started calling and texting Sam, but it can be very difficult to get in touch with Sam at work if he's really busy with patients. We finally made arrangements to call late that afternoon.

The phone call was the beginning of the surreal. There was a baby. Already born. He was in the NICU. There was legal risk with the birth father. The birth mother had already signed, so the agency was making the placement. I'm not going to go into too many details about his birth, or the first couple of days of life… that story is his own. Basically he was born early, exactly how early, we're not sure, but the doctors suspect about 34-35 weeks. He was 5 lbs 5 oz at birth, but quickly dropped. Within 24 hours he dropped to 3 lbs 13 oz… cue a one way ticket to the NICU. At first things looked pretty rough… potentially a month long stay in the hospital. For better or for worse, the agency decided to wait to make placement so that the couple could take on less legal risk with the birth father. In Florida, a birth father has 30 days to come forward after being served. This birth father wasn't served until after the birth, which means any couple coming forward would have to be willing to take on that risk. The agency felt it was in the best interest of the adoptive parents to let the NICU stay and the period of legal risk run out, or close to it, before making a match. But the little man did far better than expected and by that Thursday, just a little over a week after he was born, he was moved into the NICU Step Down, basically NICU-lite. He was up a full pound and continuing to do better than expected. The agency suddenly needed a family in place, and they called us. In light of the medical issues and legal risk, they recommended that we take at least 24 hours to speak with a pediatrician about the medical concerns and to think on the legal risk. We agreed to do as requested.

On Friday, exactly one week after hearing that we were not selected, we both began to make plans at work, to tell our families, contact a pediatrician… it was a heck of a scramble. Particularly for me. You may remember that I recently started a new job just THREE weeks ago. Ha! When I got the call about the interview for the position, I blurted out "I'm in the process of adopting… I just need you to know that upfront!" I told them it could be two days, two weeks, or two years, but I'm not so sure they thought I was being serious on that first part. They have been amazing though, and I'm really, really thankful for everyone at the office. So Friday evening, after getting as many questions answered as possible and praying for a whole bunch of wisdom and discernment, we decided to leap. We said yes and began to make arrangements to come meet our son. We arrived on Sunday, signed placement agreements, and then finally, finally, finally met the one we've been praying for.

So yeah, I'm a mom! It feels SO surreal to say that, and I think a huge part of me is still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Thirty days is a loooong time when you're talking about your future as a family. In a lot of ways, I feel like a temporary mom, a placeholder so that he has someone other than nurses to care for him. I'm not guarding my heart in anyway… I'm all in, because what the hell, like it's going to hurt one fraction less if I somehow don't fall head over heels for this little guy. But despite being all in, I still feel weird saying I'm a mom. It will all feel a lot more real once those thirty days are up.

I imagine you're wondering if there's going to be a photo at the end of this post… you're already starting to scroll. Let me stop you; there isn't. We've kept the adoption fairly quiet for the last few days as we assessed the situation with the birth father. We've finally come to the conclusion that no matter what happens, this is just a part of our story, and no matter what, we want our friends and family to know. Things seem to be going well for us, but it could change any minute. In light of that, we've decided not to post his photo on social media our of respect for the birth family. If the birth father does come forward, I would feel absolutely terrible about positing pictures of his son all over the place for the world to see, and it's not something that I can really ever take back. Once it's out there, it's a done deal. I will tell you that he's freaking adorable! He's obviously tiny, still not at birth weight yet, but we're almost there. Believe me, I'm dying to share his picture with y'all. Until then, I'll give you his name: Garrison Carter.

I have sooooo much more to say, about the adoption process, about the NICU, about my first days as a mom, about the affects infertility has had and is having on my confidence. For now, I'm exhausted, which is great because I'm not even the one feeding him all night… there's a whole crew of nurses to do that. Know that I'm feeling ALL THE FEELS right about now, and one of those is absolutely thankfulness for all of you, for supporting me, encouraging me, and loving on me through all of this. More to come, I promise.

The Good and The Bad

Many of you follow me on Facebook (I'm not too hard to find with a name like Greavu) but I wanted to update here for those of you who haven't heard the news, but also because this deserves more explanation than just a few words. I'll cut to the chase so you're not skipping ahead... we were not chosen.

Before I get into the bad news, I do have some good news to share. Actually not just good news, but great, incredible, awe-inspiring news. If you look at the YouCaring widget to the right, you'll notice that we have reached out fundraising goal... we've actually far surpassed my wildest dreams! I'm not at liberty to disclose many of the details, but basically an incredible woman who recently went through the adoption process with her son wrote us a VERY large check last week. She said that after holding her grandson, she couldn't imagine anyone not getting to fulfill that dream and she just wanted to help make it possible. It is still so surprising, that I have to check the savings account just to make sure that it's real. 

In light of the potential match, you can imagine that Sam and I were feeling the pressure last week (before the check arrived). If matched, we would have had to send $16,000 immediately, completely wiping out our adoption account. Then we would have had just a few weeks to come up with another $15,000 or so. And no, this was not an "expensive" case, it was actually a little under our max. There's just a LOT of money left to be spent. So we began to feverishly apply for no interest adoption grants. The reality of the situation was beginning to set in. As usual, money talks add stress out the wazoo in our family, so rather than fight about something that was neither of our faults, I suggested we table that discussion for the next evening. I went to bed very discouraged. I knew that we would absolutely move forward with the case... it was that perfect, but I was terrified of $15,000-20,000 in debt, particularly of the credit card variety

I kid you not, the very next day, we received the check. This entire process has been the most humbling experience of my life. I would have said I couldn't be humbled more than infertility already had, I mean the inability to reproduce without an entire team of people present is pretty darn humbling, but the fundraising process has absolutely been even more so. Friends who are saving for homes have given HUGE amounts... more than I've ever given to one person for sure. Friends struggling with infertility gave even though they were dealing with the expense of infertility treatments themselves. Complete strangers who simply read the blog and wanted to be a part gave. It's just been the wildest journey. 

When we started the adoption process last September, our plan was to keep the adoption under $35,000 for everything, legal fees, travel, home study, birth mother expenses... the whole deal. We've watched a ton of cases go because of our budget. I don't necessarily feel bad about that, as I want to work with ethical agencies who aren't exploiting adoption, but I admit it has been hard. With that number in mind, we set out to raise a minimum of $25,000 as we felt comfortable with $10,000 for ourselves. Our dream goal, like the "this will never happen" goal was to raise $30,000. Friends we're there... the dream goal. It's so unbelievable!!!

I've already had a few people ask if they could still donate, as they wanted a puzzle piece. Sam and I have decided that we will leave the YouCaring site open until the March 15th deadline. If you want a puzzle piece, you can still donate and be a part of the puzzle fundraiser. "Do we need any more money?" is the question I'm sure everyone is asking. Well, if the situation from last week had worked out, we estimate that we would have needed $2,000-$2,500 more than we have at this moment. So yes, there are most likely additional expenses as that situation was already a little under our budget, but it's also nothing we can't handle. We're in a far better place than we ever imagined we'd be, and we're just so, so thankful. 

Okay, so on to the crappy part. I left you last week following out interview with the birth mom. It went as well as could be expected for something so stressful. We spoke with one of the agency representatives following the phone call. Her info was rather sobering as she said that she and the other rep were split in their opinions of who she'd chose... we certainly didn't hit it out of the park. The next few days were hard. One second I'd dream of bringing home this baby boy, and the next moment I'd allow the "she didn't pick you" phone call to roll through my imagination. I had dreams where we were picked, so real that I woke up believing it for a good ten minutes. I also had hours of restless sleep where I replayed parts of our conversation, wishing I could have explained more, connected more. 

I think ANY scenario where you're one of two, would be hard... to be so close. But this one just felt so, so perfect to me. 

He was due April 6th, 3 days after our fifth anniversary. Talk about an anniversary gift and a reason to celebrate.  

The expectant mom was in Florida, so our travel expenses would be lower. It would also allow for friends and family to come visit while I waited out ICPC. Sam will not be able to stay with me for the 2ish weeks while I await permission to return to Georgia. While I would go to the end of the earth for our child, it would be nice not to have to spend the first few weeks as a mom alone in a hotel.  

The city was Jacksonville... I obviously have a lot of mixed feelings about that city, but ultimately that's where my embryos currently reside. I had ideas of driving by Baptist Medical with my son and telling him about his siblings... they would likely never meet, but it felt like a sweet moment.  

I already mentioned that the cost was under our budget, but that's just SO rare. It was an answer to so many prayers.

All of that just made it seem so fitting. And then we got the check. It felt like things were just clicking into place. The stars were aligning and all that junk... we were almost giddy. We've been on the wrong end of SO many things the last few years. 70% odds somehow turn into 10% odds for us. Opportunity turns to ashes, but THIS felt different. 

And then we "met" her and I fell in love with her. Really. She was so great. An absolute answer to prayer. I admittedly struggle to relate to some expectant moms. But this woman, it felt like we were so similar. She described herself as a sort of shy, people-pleaser who loves to write and is good at math. She said she writes to process her thoughts. It was so very apparent that she loved her son to pieces. Her questions for us were direct, intelligent, articulate, and important. I was just so impressed with her. I wanted it to work out 10,000 times more (if that's even possible) after speaking with her because I really liked HER and felt like we could have a great relationship going forward. 

So what went wrong? Well first of all, I think I probably felt a lot more connected to her than she did to me. Our interview was just that... an interview. The agency rep alternated reading our questions-- one to her, one to us. It didn't allow for conversation really, just question, answer, question, answer. So while I'm hearing her talk about herself, I'm thinking "omg... twinsies" but she never got to hear how similar we were, how I was oddly good at math and writing too, an odd combination. She didn't get to hear that we had tons of similarities. We also had a lot of similar family history. Her questions for us were much more direct... parenting strategies, work ethic, religious beliefs… harder things to connect on. We answered as well as we could, and we were honest, so if she didn't choose us because of one of our answers, well, I wouldn't change what I said. I mean maybe a word or two, maybe different phrasing, but the words were true, so the message wouldn't change. 

When I heard the news on Friday afternoon, I asked if they knew why she picked the other couple. They had said over and over again that she really loved us, that it took her two full days to decide because after meeting both couples, the decision just got harder. She didn't want to disappoint either couple (see how awesome she is?). Ultimately, they felt that the baby's name is what pushed her over the edge. 

The agency rep had told me when we were selected as one of two that she was pretty sure the expectant mom would ask us if we had a name picked out because she did. I asked if I could know the name just so we wouldn't be caught off guard. Believe it or not, I loved the name. It was on my list of names way back when I kept a card of names in my bedside table as if I was going to need forty names for all these kids we were going to have. Further proof that this was meant to be... to me. The name never came up for us. She never mentioned it, and I didn't bring it up, as it felt weird to me to appear as if I already knew all of this information about her. Like the agency and I just gossiped about her for hours. Apparently it did come up in the other couple's conversation. And more specifically, the other couple had a photo in their profile book with a painting in their basement in the background. The painting lists three important cities to them... one of those cities is the name she had chosen. So literally the name of the child she loved so much was written on the wall of this couple's home long before they had ever met. 

So here I am feeling all connected to her and feeling like everything is falling into place so beautifully. There were just so many signs pointing to this being our firstborn. But at the same time that I'm reading the "signs" there's a literal sign telling her to pick the other couple. I mean how crazy is that? The agency thinks ultimately that's what made her decision... she loved us both, felt we were both great choices, so when she didn't feel a clear answer, she went with what felt perfect to her. 

So that's basically it... we weren't chosen. I am admittedly pretty heartbroken. But also embarrassed, discouraged, and frustrated. I wanted this situation to work out SO badly. It didn't, and now we are back at square one... no pending cases, no one is looking at our profile, we're just waiting for another scenario to come across within our budget. It's ridiculously embarrassing to put all of this our there for the world to see and then everyone watch you not get picked… I feel like everyone's thinking "what is wrong with them?" I'm frustrated with myself for not leading the conversation more, for not adding what I was thinking, for not telling her how similar we are and how great we think she is. And I'm really discouraged. It took us almost 6 months to get to this point. I just keep thinking that it could be another 6 months before we're there again.

I must say though that I'm just so gosh darn thankful for the love and support we've been shown this last week, and throughout this whole journey. Suzanne wrote a beautiful post that made me cry, and then the comments made me cry more. Thank you for the Facebook messages, texts, phone calls, real life hugs… each has absolutely meant the world to me. I've never in my life felt so supported and loved than I have in these last few months. Random gifts from blog friends like Jane who sent me an adorable t-shirt to wear when I go shopping for the baby. And on Saturday I received a surprise package... some crazy, awesome human ordered the She Read's Truth Ampersand t-shirt that I mentioned in the last post. I mean, who does that? (anyone want to fess up? No? Well THANK YOU whoever you are!!!) I've just been so, so blessed. It would be so easy to say Sara Hagerty's words that I wrote about last week--"Of course. This is just how my life goes. Why should I expect it to be different? If I want something, it will always elude me." After last week, it would just be so easy to feel cursed. But while the situation ended far differently than I had hoped, I know I'm not cursed as I've seen the Father's love for me manifested in the hands and feet of those around me. I am so blessed to be so loved and supported. So thank you all.

And If Not

I'd approached Him all these years on this one issue like the beggar I thought He'd made me to be, inconsequential and insignificant before Him. Please God, please God. I repeated words like rote religious petitions, stumbling over myself to get close to an answer, when the One giving the answer wasn't even in my picture. The One on the other end of my requests was behind guarded doors, doling out responses like Santa Claus. And I, apparently, had not been "nice." I prayed as one who believes she is cursed might pray.
Every Bitter Thing is Sweet

Oh man you guys, my world is getting rocked right now by a tiny little book... just 8 inches tall, and 208 pages from cover to cover. But oh man, it's good. I mentioned earlier that I was reading Every Bitter Thing is Sweet by Sara Hagerty. Many of you might have read it. I had wanted to read it for a few months, but didn't want to shovel out the ten bucks (because I say no). I put it on my Christmas list and my mother-in-law got it for me. Every few pages had a line or two that caused my world to shift. It was so good that about half way through it I literally just started over. I didn't want to miss a thing.

Her question from the beginning is one that I've been asking myself for years, but I didn't have the words to articulate it. Her question, "Is He [God] good to me?" becomes the central focus of her story as she deals with infertility, adoption, marriage, and financial struggles. It becomes the lens through which she views each circumstance.

The author says that due to infertility, she began to see herself as cursed. It's not the way I would describe myself, probably because it conjures up the idea of witches or karma or something. But if I think about the word simply as the opposite of blessed, I begin to understand her use of the word. The lives of others, hundreds, thousands of others, are blessed. But this one thing, this one prayer, has gone unanswered... I have not been blessed, so I must be cursed. She writes the following in response to her father's diagnosis of brain cancer, "Of course. This is just how my life goes. Why should I expect it to be different? If I want something, it will always elude me." And I have to admit, that some days, that's exactly how I feel. It's as if infertility has become this Thing upon which my life is measured. The presence of it in my life means that I am not yet blessed, I am not yet chosen. 

I could write ten posts just about the mess, the ugly that this book is stirring up and causing me to confront. I want to focus in on one idea though. Tucked away in the midst of chapter eight is this line that absolutely rocked my world.: "I struggled, instead, with knowing that God could heal me, but he didn't." She writes that part after adopting two children. She was a mom, yet she still felt that way. I don't know why, but that line hit me like a ton of bricks. It sums up my whole experience, this whole wrestling match with God. It's what I've been trying to say for almost four years, but haven't had the words. I'm desperate for infertility to end, not simply because I want a baby, not simply because I want to give birth, not simply because making babies in the bed is a lot less expensive than any other method, but because I'm terrified of who I will be if my "fertile years" run out and He never chooses to heal me. Will I still love Him? Will I be able to stare Him in the face, crawl up in His lap, cry out 'Abba Father' knowing He could have created life with just a breath, but He never did?

It brings out this idea that's becoming more and more popular. She Reads Truth readers have made it their banner cry... they even have a t-shirt (I want!). The idea is this: And if not... He is still good.  This idea of "and if not" is not new. The idea is scriptural, going back all the way to the book of Daniel when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were threatened with death by fire if they would not kneel before the king's idols. Daniel 3:17-18 says, "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up." It's a hard place to come to. A place where we say even if You NEVER answer my greatest, hardest, most earnest prayer, You are still good. This is one of those "I want to be like that" moments, but I'm not sure I'm there, or at least not consistently. I'm still struggling to process. I'm still arguing with myself that I'd be more blessed, that He'd be a better God if He gave me this one thing. It's hard to wrestle with the thought that your God is all powerful, that He can make something out of nothing, and yet, what if He doesn't?

The author eventually comes to see that her life was blessed, in ways she wasn't looking for, in ways she didn't expect, in ways she didn't request. And part of that blessing was infertility… it's not even a silver lining kind of thing. Infertility changed her. As myself and many others have experienced, infertility is like a glacier, slowly carving out the terrain of your life. Infertility made her more open, more vulnerable with her husband. It made her more empathetic towards others. It made her desperate enough to take crazy big risks to go after four orphans in Africa. But I believe she'd say most importantly, it made her long to see her Father more clearly. She writes, "I had a lot of ideas about God that weren't actually God's ideas about God… I saw more clearly the disconnection between who I said God is and who I believed Him to be." Eventually she sees that the presence of infertility is what reconciled her, brought her to her knees at the feet of the One who could change it all, and not the lap of Santa. But it was a process. A whole decade in the making. She ultimately decides that "God allowed [infertility]. Maybe even invited it" and that He did so because He could see the finished product that she'd become.

I've wrestled with some of these thoughts before. I wrote a post awhile ago where I struggled to find the reason for the presence of infertility in my life. Later, I wrote a post where I tired to wrestle with the idea of giving thanks for infertility, even if it is the ultimate weed in my life. I feel like I'm on the cusp of coming full circle. The reason for infertility isn't what is important because the answer won't change much of anything. And offering thanks is well and good, but there is more.

I've allowed infertility, my barrenness to become the lens by which I view the world. Or more accurately, to color the lens I use to view the world. When I view my life, and the lives of those around me I see evidence of being overlooked by God. You can see where Sara's question comes in. The question isn't "is God good?" but rather the question is "is God good to me?" Is God good? Absolutely. Is God good to me? Maybe. I hope so. Let's wait and see. If asked, I wouldn't have said any of that, but that's what would have rolled through the dusty, darkness of my mind where tumbleweeds blow from one corner to the next. But now, as I continue to wrestle, as I continue to stretch I'm coming to a slightly different idea. Maybe God's goodness isn't measured simply in giving good gifts, which He does, but rather in allowing us to come to a place where we desire Him more than His gifts. Maybe He allows it, even invites it so that I'll eventually come to a place where I can write, "I wanted Him. Whether He came and lifted my circumstances, or He just came."

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I'm assuming you were hoping for an update out of all of that. I don't know much. We had our interview last night. It was awkward, and touching, and stressful, and hard. And it made me admire and like this woman 10,000 times more than before. This situation feels so right to me for so many reasons, but I have no inkling if the expectant mom is feeling the same. We know now that we went second; the other couple had their interview yesterday morning. I also know that my consultant really wanted us to go first because, in her words, "the first couple almost always gets chosen." I also know that the two women from the agency that were on both phone calls are split in their opinion as to who she will choose. This could go either way. We don't feel settled, or secure, or confident in anyway. I also know that everything you wanted to say apparently comes to mind and mouth about 4:30am after the phone call. We are hopeful that we will have an answer within the next few days… as always, the waiting is the hardest part.

We are desperately hoping that this little boy is our bring home baby… but if not He is still good. 

And Then There Were Two

I'm alive, though you wouldn't know it from the blog these days. It has been a busy season. I think of the blog every few days and think, "oh it's okay, I posted a few days ago, only to check and see that no, it was a week ago two weeks ago." And now it's been three weeks.

Let's see, in the last three weeks, I accepted a new position, put in my two week notice, left my old job, started a new job, signed up for private insurance, received my rocker for the nursery (eek), bought a crib and dresser (double eek), finalized plans for the nursery (who is this person?), and well, I think that about covers it. Oh wait, no. I applied for two new adoption cases. The first didn't go far because the expectant mother never showed up to review profiles. But the second, be still my heart. The second has brought us as far as we've ever been. Drum roll please…

We're one of TWO!!!

The expectant mom has selected us and one other couple to interview before making her final decision. For now, our interview is set for Tuesday evening, but it very easily could get bumped to Wednesday. There are quite a number of parties involved in the interview, so I'm trying to be as flexible and accommodating as possible. We've submitted questions for the her and we're awaiting the questions that she plans to ask us. That's basically it… just waiting.

I'm teetering on the edge between, "this can't possibly work because things like this never work out for me" and "oh, have mercy, I could be a MOM in less than 6 weeks!" I'm honestly pretty terrified that we won't present ourselves well. Sam is NOT a talker, and on the phone… umm, no. I, by nature lead conversations. In consults with the doctor, Sam typically asked one question, maybe two if he was feeling particularly chatty. And I came across as highly organized, extreme type-A personality who needed answers to all life's questions… which is basically true, but not exactly the side I want to shine through tomorrow. The advice I've gotten is to personable, show emotion, and connect. Three things that I am NOT good at doing, particularly when I'm meeting someone, and even more so when I'm nervous. I just really needed the profile book to carry me through the match process. I did not want the decision to come down to my ability to shine in a phone call.

But I really have to give this expectant mom credit. She is taking this so seriously, and I really commend her for it. Her words to the agency last friday were this: "I can only do this one thing for my son. I want to do it really well." Gah, that just breaks my heart and makes me love her at the same time. She reviewed several profiles, but just couldn't decide between us and one other, so she's interviewing both over the phone before she decides. After that, she wants to meet the couple she selects before the birth. See? She's 110% in this, serious, devoted, committed. I really admire her and everything I've heard about her from the agency is just so impressive.

The few people that we've already told have asked about the other couple. I have zero information on the couple other than that must be within 6-7 hours of the expectant mom as that was her one stipulation on the original profiles. People joke that they are surely hideous, or some other undesirable characteristic that will make us the automatic winner. But the truth is that they are probably a lot like us. I've read through about 50 prospective adoptive parent profiles during this journey. If you remove the singles and homosexual couples, you're left with a very similar group. I'd say about 80% of the heterosexual couples are seeking domestic adoption due to infertility in some form or another. Our stories, when written in a brief paragraph, all read about the same. Judging by this woman's interest in us, the other couple is probably a lot like us: mid to late twenties or early thirties, married three to ten years, no children, struggling to conceive or dealing with reoccurring pregnancy loss. We're probably a lot more alike than we are different. She's probably obsessing over her questions and worrying the nights away about what to say (and not to say) in the phone call. They're probably looking at the calendar in amazement and cautiously hoping that life changes forever in the next few weeks. It's a competition of sorts because there will only be one "winner," but it feels a lot like competing against one of my sisters. I know this woman's pain. I've lived her darkest moments. I know intimately how badly she wants this.

So friends, that's where we are. Ever so cautiously waiting and trying desperately to guard our hearts. One of two is a heck of a lot further than we've been before, but I am not a betting woman, and 50% odds have never sounded good to me. The good news is that as always, there will be an end to this waiting and hoping and guessing. Both couples will interview with the expectant mom early this week, so I'm hopeful that we'll know one way or another by the end of this week.

If you're the sort to pray, we're currently scheduled for our call at 7pm tomorrow. I'd really appreciate prayers for Sam and I. I want to walk away from the phone call saying that we did well. That we presented ourselves earnestly and honestly and that we loved and respected this woman. Pray for my heart, that I can show emotion on this call, yet keep myself grounded and guarded this week as we wait. And pray for this woman and her son. This is one of those "I want to want what You want, Father" kind of situations for me. Ultimately, we want what is best for the baby. If that's us, SUPER, but if not, that's okay too.

Update: The interview is Tuesday at 7:30.

I Said No

The last five years have really taught me the value of a dollar. I mean, ever since my parents' divorce I've been slowly learning this lesson, but getting married and plunging head first into grad school will give you a crash course really quickly. Sam and I lived comfortably, but we regularly said no to fun things that first year of marriage. We would hear about a party with friends or a night out for dinner and a movie with another couple and we would say to one another, "I don't know how they do it!" We were makings ends meet... no ramen noodles on our menu, but we were certainly learning to cut corners and the easiest corners to cut for us have always been entertainment and eating out.

And then, after that first 18 months of marriage, infertility treatments smashed like a freight train right into our lives. It seemed like I couldn't possibly cut the budget anymore. But as time went on, I just simply learned to do without. I never ordered Mary Kay makeup again. When it ran out, I went to Target and bought the cheapest thing I could find. My shampoo was whatever was on sale, plus a coupon. I learned to color my own hair if I wanted a color change. Dinner and a movie changed to Redbox and a five dollar pizza from Little Caesar. Slowly, I began to become a person who says "no" to all "extras." I would say my only real splurge at this time is Starbucks coffee... I'm an espresso drink fan and I literally work 50 feet from Starbucks, but for the most part, I stick to whatever we agree to reload to the card each month. 

My husband is not a fan of the "no" me. There have been so many times that he's wanted to go play golf, or go bowling, or go to dinner. While I'm certainly not the decision maker in this family, I have a way of shining a light on the budget. "Oh, how great babe, I didn't know you found an extra $70 on the ground last week... how perfect for your golf game," It's really an art form. 70% of the time, I successfully guilt lovingly suggest that we should once again skip this activity. The 30% of the time I fail to convince him, I'm really awesome at providing the silent treatment or playing the guilt game over his failure to commit to whatever we're saving for. "I'm so glad you enjoyed your breakfast with friends, love! That's really awesome that you got waffles and hashbrowns, foods you can make for a buck fifty, while our IVF savings account sits about half full"... I wish I could say that those words never came out of my mouth, but they have, more times than I'd like to admit.

Truly, I feel guilty about spending money on things we don't "need." Dinner with my husband just doesn't fall in the necessary column. I've been struggling the last few years to recognize the value in doing things together. Or with friends. The concept of date night is 100% foreign to me at this point. We haven't been to a movie together in over a year, and before that maybe two or more. The last time we went out for a nice dinner was for our anniversary almost two years ago, and that was because we had a gift card which covered 100% of the meal.

While I definitely see the benefits of being thrifty, living below our means, choosing to make sacrifices, etc. I can also say that there are certain losses with that type of life. The loss of friendship opportunities is certainly there. Say no to manicures and karaoke nights enough and eventually your friends will give up on you. I've been fortunate to have FANTASTIC friends who never give up on me, and regularly extend the offer, but I imagine I'm pretty much the lamest friend ever. The answer is always no.

I can also see how the long term presence of "no" within the marriage begins to take effect too. Once upon a time, we thought of little ways to surprise each other... even if it was totally lame like "hey babe, I bought you 64 ounces of diet coke" (swoon). So much of that kind of "I thought of you, so I..." and "I love you, so lets..." has died. Now I'm sure part of that is because hello, we've been married for almost 5 years. The honeymoon is o-ver. But our financial struggles with infertility and now adoption have certainly only added to the problem. so many well-meaning people over the years have suggested that I use this time to "be married." What they mean by that is celebrate our marriage and the good things we have with date nights and vacations and special things. I've literally been told to let Sam "lavish" me multiple times. I've yet to laugh or fire back at that comment but really, things are so far from lavish around here. And that's okay. I'm not looking at my husband thinking why "why haven't you planned a secret getaway?" We live this way because I want to, because I want more for us than date nights and vacations.

I've been thinking lately how much of this attitude has simply become who I am. I don't even think, "well, I'd love to, but..." I don't check the accounts for margin. It takes me less than two seconds to answer because the answer is always no. I sometimes think that once we complete this adoption, I'll loosen up and live a little more. But the honest truth is, I probably won't. At least not willingly. I'll have diapers and formula and daycare to add to the budget. And I'll have those four embryos in Florida to worry about. I can think of 10,000 excuses to stay exactly as I am. But I also think about the child we're hoping to bring home, the one we've waited for for so long. And I wonder if this is the kind of mother I want to be. I'm not talking about blowing the budget, going into debt, that sort of thing... I know that's not the lifestyle I want to live. But do I want to be a mom who feels guilty about spending gas money to drive my kid to the park? I see moms who enroll their kids in swim class and music lessons and gymnastics and all that kind of stuff and I wonder, if we ever get there, to that point in life, will I recognize those expenses for what they are or will I just say no? Has the need to constantly save altered who I am down to my very core so that all if know how to do is say no? Will I ever learn to say yes again?