Autobiography

I decided to share my autobiography for our adoption. I have changed the names of my family and friends, so they too can remain anonymous – I was kind of in a quirky mood, so some of the names are a bit off the wall (and some people who read this blog are in here too – hope you like your new name!!) and I don’t know why, but a lot of the names turned Spanish. . . . Anyway, other than the name changes, this is the same information that I sent to Consuelo last week. The instructions stated to write between 5-7 pages. My autobiography is 10 pages in length! I like to write and I guess I tend to get a bit long-winded. But, one never knows when a little part of the story can convince someone to give you a baby, right? I hope this doesn’t make me sound too Pollyanna. . . . I thought about sharing Flaco’s autobiography too, but I’m not sure anyone would be interested in reading his. If there is interest, I will post it – well, the English translation, since he wrote his in Español. My name is Empty Arms Broken Heart. I am thirty years old, born in Reading, Pennsylvania. I was raised on a farm outside of a small Berks County town called Centerport. I am an American citizen and identify myself as a Christian religiously, while not associated with any specific denomination; I do attend services at Puerta del Cielo bilingual Church of the Brethren in Reading. I am the eldest of the three children of Julius and Penelope Schwarzenegger. I am the fourth generation to live on the family farm and my parents as well as my father's parents, whom I call Nana and PopPop, still live on the same farm. As children, my brother and sister and I would run down the hill from our house to visit my grandparents at their house in the valley. When I was young, my Nana would take us out on walks we called "nature walks." We would hike through the meadow, where the cows munched on the tall, thick grass, and into the various stands of trees that surrounded the farm. My grandmother would stop and show us animal tracks or show us where to find wild bluebells growing in the spring time. She would identify the various trees and plants and teach us which dandelion greens would make the best dandelion salad and help us to collect mint leaves to brew mint sweet tea. Sometimes, we would tie a safety pin to a fishing line, use a hunk of cheese or field corn for bait, and try to catch minnows in the crick. My grandfather taught us about caring for the various animals on the farm, the cows with their calves in the meadow or the pigs fattening in the barn. My siblings and I would beg PopPop to let us ride along when he drove the tractor into the fields to pick corn or load bales of hay. We would look for falling stars when we helped pick the large stones from the fields and we always helped my grandparents plant the family garden in the spring and harvest the produce throughout the summer. I was and still am, very close to my grandparents and I feel blessed to have this special relationship. My mother's mother died only a few days after my little sister was born, when I was five years old. I don't have many memories of her, except that we liked the same color - purple. My grandfather lost touch with the family for many years after my grandmother died and we only reconnected when I was eighteen years old and graduating from high school. My grandfather remarried and we now spend time together at special family gatherings like picnics, birthday parties, and for the holidays. My father has one brother, Duke, who also lives on the farm with his wife, Kitty. They have two daughters, my cousins Mitch and Yolanda. My cousins were several years older than me and had already left home when I was growing up, so we were not very close. Both my cousins are married. Mitch lives close by, but Yolanda lives in Wisconsin and she generally only comes to visit for Christmas with her husband and two young daughters. My mother had three brothers, but one of her brothers, my Uncle Dandy, passed away a few years after my grandmother. My Uncle Dirk is closest in age to my mother, five years younger than her. He married my Aunt Lyla and they have three children, Harry, Duncan, and Cici. I baby-sat for them a few times and we had a lot of fun playing sardines (a type of hide-and-seek game). I am considerably older than all my younger cousins, but we enjoy catching up at family events. My other uncle, Dudley, is eleven years younger than my mother. I remember him the most from my childhood because he was still living at home with my grandparents, when I was little. My brother, Jax, and I thought he was the coolest because he would let us come into his bedroom to watch his mini color TV. My Uncle Dudley is married to my Aunt Lila and they have two children, Hilda and Josue, who were the flower girl and ring bearer in our wedding.                 I am blessed to have a very supportive and loving family. As many people do, I took my peaceful childhood for granted, never realizing how lucky I was growing up. At a previous job, I was sent to observe a special week-long workshop for people dealing with codependency issues. As the group of eight individuals worked through their childhood issues that still haunt them into adulthood, I finally realized just how blessed my life had been. My mother was a stay-at-home mom until I was ten years old. She was able to be a PTO mom and come to school functions during the day; she even attended different field trips and was a homeroom mom for both me and my brother. At home, my mom encouraged the three of us to play outside, exploring the farm, the wooded areas and the two small creeks that run through the meadows. In the summer, we built forts made of fallen tree limbs, swung on long heavy vines drooping from tall trees, and caught tadpoles from the crick. During the winter, we would hope for snow so we could go sledding down the various hills on the farm. My brother, Jax, and I are very close in age, less than a year and a half apart. We loved to explore the woods around our house, naming different areas that we especially cherished. My little sister, Amore, was born almost four years after my brother. When we were young, she fought hard to keep up with us, determined to not be left behind. As we got older, my sister and I became much closer, even sharing the same friends in our teenage years. The three of us joined our local 4-H Sheep and Lamb Club when my sister was eight and I was twelve years of age. The following year we all joined the Berks County 4-H Swine Club. Our first year we each had a lamb to care for by cleaning their pen and giving them feed and water. We trained the lambs to walk on halters and got them accustomed to being handled. In the summer, we showed the lambs at the local fairs through-out Berks County. The following year we each had a lamb and two pigs to feed twice a day and to train for the summer fairs and 4-H events. My father and grandparents were very instrumental in teaching us how to feed and grow our animals properly. We learned responsibility through caring for our animals, making sure they were immunized when needed, keeping their living areas clean and secure, and ensuring the animals stayed healthy. But, we also had a lot of fun learning how to wash and clip the animals and showing them at the fairs. Being in the 4-H clubs gave us an opportunity to learn about the agriculture roots of Berks County as we learned valuable leadership skills as well. I held various positions in the two 4-H Clubs, first as secretary and treasurer then vice president and president in my final years in the clubs. As president, I was able to develop leadership skills and share the knowledge I had learned from older 4-H members as well as the adult 4-H leaders. An important aspect of the 4-H clubs was that the older, more experienced members would teach the younger and newer members how to care for their animals, tips and tricks on training, and how to prepare for the show ring at the fairs. When I was 17 years old, I won the title of Berks County Wool Queen, which made me eligible for the state contest at the Farm Show in Harrisburg. To my delight and surprise, I beat four other contestants to become the 1999 Pennsylvania State Lamb and Wool Queen. As a representative of the sheep and wool industry, I delivered numerous speeches and presented awards at various fairs, meetings, and agricultural events around the state. I was invited to attend and hand out ribbons at numerous local and county fairs as well as gatherings of sheep and wool farmers associations. The year I was Wool Queen we had a bottle-fed lamb named Chance that I would take to local schools to introduce children to agriculture and the sheep/wool industry. The children delighted in being able to feed the lamb when he got hungry for his bottle and the lamb enjoyed all the attention and tender hugs from the children. Being the state wool queen was a tremendous experience in which I learned how to over-come stage-fright when giving speeches in front of large groups and to represent an industry through presentations, promotions, and appearances.                    From kindergarten to seventh grade, I attended the local primary and elementary schools in the Schuylkill Valley school district, but in eight grade I left school to be homeschooled. I appreciated having the opportunity to choose special subjects that I wanted to learn, such as Latin and cooking. I studied using video courses and on-line classes and graduated in 2000 with my high school diploma. I submitted a speech and was selected to perform the speech for the nearly 100 graduating homeschoolers and their families at a special ceremony in Harrisburg. I received my Pennsylvania Homeschoolers Association high school diploma on stage from my parents and sister at this special graduation ceremony. After high school, I went to Biddeford, Maine to attend the University of New England as an International Studies major. I was very homesick at first, but settled in after I made some friends. The school was located on the bay and each dorm room had a big open window looking out onto the water and the beautiful campus. Unfortunately, the major I had chosen to study was just in the beginning phase of existence and not very well organized. I worried that the degree I would receive would not help me to pursue further education, as I had planned. I decided to transfer to a different school after completing my first semester at UNE. I transferred to a college in Pennsylvania, much closer to home, but also with a very solid reputation. Although it was difficult to fit in starting half-way into the school year, I made friends with my roommate, Aurelia and another girl I met while in orientation. Julianna later became one of my roommates and both women are still wonderful friends. At Elizabethtown College I studied History and was admitted into the honor society my senior year.  The fall semester of my junior year of college I was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to study abroad in Athens, Greece. I had never been out of the country before and had only ever been on a plane once, when I was seventeen flying to Michigan for a youth advisory committee event. I didn’t know any of the other students who were on the trip, but I was so excited to explore a new country. In Athens, I attended LaVerne College and lived in an apartment in downtown Athens with seven other women. On weekends our Greek chaperone, Aphrodite, would take us on bus trips to see other parts of Greece, such as Delphi, Olympia, and Corinth. I was also able to visit and explore some of the Greek islands, including a three day weekend trip to the island of Crete with one of my roommates, Abigail. Studying abroad gave me an opportunity to be completely immersed in a different culture. I came home with a new-found respect for how other people lived and for the vast beauty of our world. It was in Greece that my love of traveling and exploring other cultures and countries blossomed.                 While in college, I had various part-time jobs and volunteer positions both on and off campus. Several of these positions included working with children at the Masonic Homes in Elizabethtown. For one position, I along with two other college students facilitated an afterschool program for at-risk youth. A school bus would drop the young students off at the front of the building on the Masonic Homes complex and we would take them to a classroom for a simple life skills lesson and either a craft or a physical activity. After a quick snack, we would lead the children to their “elder” for help with homework or to play educational games, if they had no homework. The children, between the ages of 9-12, would each be assigned to one of the adults living in the Masonic Homes. This would be their “elder” who would help the student with their homework, play an education game, or just generally bond with the student by sharing their knowledge and life experiences. The idea of the program was to foster a unique, cross-generational relationship between the at-risk youth and the elder, which would hopefully build the student’s character and reinforce the importance of an education and civic duty. I worked with this program for nearly two years, during my sophomore year and part of my junior year in college.                 Another work-study position I held while in college was at the Masonic Children’s Home. The children’s home is a live-in facility for children either orphaned or from scio-economic situations which do not provide stable environments for growth and development. The children attend the local grade school, in the Elizabethtown School District. After school, the students who are struggling in certain subjects or who have learning disabilities would attend an afterschool program at the Children’s Home, in which college students would tutor them and help them to complete their homework assignments. I was a tutor for several students of varying grade levels and abilities. In a somewhat chaotic environment with so many students at different grade and efficiency levels, it was difficult to give one-on-one attention to each student. With the college volunteers, the regular tutor staff were able to provide more of the one-on-one attention needed by the children. It was a rewarding experience to see the children understand their school lessons and to grasp material once so hard for them to comprehend.                 For three weeks the summer between my sophomore and junior year, I was an intern at a law office in Lancaster city. When I began college and chose to major in History, I had plans to continue my education to become a lawyer. I was excited for this internship to really see the inner workings of a law office and to be mentored by a practicing attorney. I was appreciative for the experience, but quickly determined that I was not cut out to be a lawyer. I consider myself to be a “big picture” kind of person, therefore researching the same topic and digging for any and all minute details, was grueling work I was loathe to do every day.   By now I had already invested two years of college in studying a major to reach a particular end goal. Once the end goal had vanished and I was not sure what I wanted to do. I was putting myself through college with the help of scholarships, grants, student loans and my summer jobs waitressing and baby-sitting. I was not willing to change my major since it would more than likely result in spending an extra year or more earning my bachelor’s degree. I decided to press-on with my studying and try to determine what I wanted to do after earning my bachelor’s degree. I was still considering a masters degree the first semester of my senior year, but I didn’t have a clear idea of my new career goal. It was at this time that my roommate, Julianna, asked me to accompany her to hear a presentation by a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer. I had no idea what the Peace Corps was about, but decided it might be interesting to learn more, so I agreed to go along with her. Little did I know how such a small, seemingly insignificant decision would change my life.                 The presenter was a woman in her early thirties and who had spent two years in a Soviet block country, as a volunteer, teaching the locals how to develop and run small businesses. She showed us a slideshow covering her two years of service and explained how she learned the language and how she adapted to the constant black-outs and bleak attitudes of the local people in the metropolitan area where she had been assigned. She also explained how we could sign up to become volunteers and gave some very persuasive reasons why right after college it would make sense to sign up. My roommate had to work that evening, so she left early. I was enthralled with the presentation and captivated by the idea of living somewhere exotic while helping people better their lives, so I stayed to hear the entire presentation. Afterwards, I began looking at the Peace Corps website and thinking that this might be something for me to do after college, since I still didn’t know if I was willing to dedicate more of my limited resources to a masters program without a clear career goal. I downloaded the application, filled it out and submitted all the required information before the fall semester at college ended. I knew before I graduated in May 2004, that I was going to be sent somewhere in the world as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I just didn’t know where.                 Sometime around the middle of July 2004 I received my invitation to serve as a Food Security Volunteer and in my welcoming packet it listed the country where I would be living and working for the next two years; Nicaragua. When I had submitted my application to join the Peace Corps I had requested to work in agriculture, since I had grown up on a farm and was very involved in 4-H. Most of the agriculture programs in the Peace Corps were in Central or South America, so I expected to be sent to any one of those many countries. As it turned out, I was going to Nicaragua, the largest country in Central America. I would be leaving August 29th to spend two days in Miami, Florida to meet the other volunteers in my group, before heading south to Nicaragua.                 In Nicaragua, the large group of about forty volunteers was broken into two groups; the agriculture volunteers (fondly known as “Aggies”) and the environmental education volunteers. The Aggies were sent north, to training towns near Estelí, Nicaragua. Then, we were each assigned to a host family, where we would be living for the three months of training. After training each volunteer was then assigned to their own community in small towns scattered throughout Nicaragua. I was sent to Sabana Grande, a small farming village near the town of El Sauce, in the department of Leon. Nestled in the plains at the base of the northern mountains, it was known as “El Horno” or “The Oven” because it was one of the hottest places in the country.                 Initially, there was a volunteer couple living in El Sauce, the biggest town close to me, but they left after only 4-5 months in service. After the couple left, the next closest volunteer was an hour and a half away by bus. I was the only “gringa” (foreign person) in my community and my Spanish was still very poor. Slowly, my language skills improved and I began making friends. I had been living with a host family, but moved out on my own to a small brick house that had a packed dirt floor and a large front porch (which was really just the un-finished part of the front of the house). My first friend in the community was a young girl named Melissa. She didn’t seem to mind that I spoke funny and invited me to her house for dinner and to meet her mother, Jackie. Jackie and I quickly became friends and soon I was having lunch and dinner at her house daily. Having a friend that I felt comfortable speaking with helped my Spanish to improve and also made it easier for me to integrate into the community. Jackie was also friends with another woman, Maria and soon the three of us were inseparable. Jackie was the mother of five children and Maria had two young children. If I didn’t stop over for lunch or dinner, one of them would send a child to my house to invite me over. The children loved to come and play at my house because I had some toys sent to me from family and friends in the U.S. With the children’s help, I planted a small garden (which the chickens ate) and we also planted a tree garden from seeds the children gathered.                 After becoming friends with Jackie, I learned her eldest son was away working in the capital city, Managua. He came to visit Sabana Grande on occasion, one of which was for a quiñcenera party. I attended the party with Jackie and Maria and we were having a great time dancing and talking with the other women. At one point, I was dancing with a young man who was in one of my English classes at school. The fast-paced song ended and the DJ put a slow song on. The young man wanted to dance to this romantic song with me, but I felt this would be inappropriate for a student and teacher. Behind me, Jackie’s eldest son, Flaco, just finished dancing with a young woman. I spun around, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and demanded he dance with me. Three slow songs later, he was convinced we were boyfriend and girlfriend, which I thought he meant as a joke.                 Two weeks after the party, the electricity was out in the pueblo because heavy rains and winds knocked down an electric pole. In Nicaragua, it generally gets dark around 6:30 pm, so I was in my house reading by the light of my headlamp flashlight with candles burning for additional lighting. Jackie’s two eldest sons and a friend came walking up to my house, to see how I was managing without electricity. After asking for a drink of water, Flaco made a motion and the other two young men walked off. He sat in my hammock and asked me what we should do as boyfriend and girlfriend. Apparently, he was not joking at the quiñcenera a few weeks ago. We talked for a few hours and I asked him, “If you could do anything in the world, anything at all, what would you want to do?” His reply was, “I would ask to kiss you.” That is where our relationship started, over six years ago.                 When I decided to leave the Peace Corps in January 2006, Flaco begged me not to go. We were saying good-bye, walking through the Mercado Oriental in Managua when he stopped and said, “Don’t leave. Marry me instead.” Just as I had assumed when he asked me to be his girlfriend, I thought he was joking. I said no and told him my mind was made up; I had a week to complete all the necessary paperwork with the Peace Corps and I would be gone. A few days after the failed proposal, Flaco’s cousin called me and invited me over to dinner. I didn’t want to offend her, so I agreed. When I arrived at her house, she led me to the kitchen where Flaco was seated at the table. We ate dinner together, awkwardly, both keenly aware of my impending departure. After dinner, Flaco led me to a small bedroom and after a lengthy discussion, again asked me to marry him. We had a quick civil service the day before I left Nicaragua and I promised to work on Flaco’s immigration paperwork to allow him to move to the U.S. It took eight months for Flaco to get an appointment at the American Embassy in Managua. I flew down to help him with the final paperwork and the interview at the Embassy. On October 18, 2006, Flaco arrived in the United States. While we were separated, I had purchased a home in Reading for us to live and was working two jobs to pay for the mortgage and other bills. Flaco was terribly homesick at first and he hated the cold weather, but he eventually adjusted. He found a job at a local restaurant and has been working there since March of 2007. We decided to have a wedding ceremony on May 10, 2008 and this is the date we celebrate as our wedding anniversary. About six months after our wedding, we decided we wanted to start a family. We were so excited at the thought of becoming parents and we were not worried when we didn’t get pregnant in the first several months. After a year of trying, we decided to ask my doctor for some guidance. She suggested we do monthly blood tests to see if I ovulated. In the three months of the trial, I did not ovulate once. Next, I took Clomid to induce ovulation for five months, without success. Finally, we went to see an infertility doctor. He determined I have PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) which prevents me from ovulating regularly. We tried Clomid again and when that failed the doctor suggested we try IVF (invitro fertilization). After a long talk, Flaco and I decided that we did not want to spend the large sum of money on a one-time chance to get pregnant. The emotional roller coaster ride of infertility was starting to take a toll on us as individuals and also on our relationship and marriage. The monthly cycle of hope and despair had been unbelievably stressful, at times eclipsing everything else in our lives. We felt it would be better to adopt a child who needs a loving home, rather than continue battling infertility. I have been fortunate, that in my life I have not had to deal with many traumatic losses. I was very young when my grandmother passed away, so I did not feel the full impact of her loss. When I was 22 years old, a few weeks before I was leaving to officially join the Peace Corps in Nicaragua, a close family friend passed away. This was a young man who was like a brother to me. I had known him all his life and grew up with him and his older sister. His loss was sudden and very unexpected. My entire family was affected by his passing in a very profound way. We relied on one another to cope with the pain and we reached out to his parents and sister to offer them support. On the year anniversary of my friend’s death, I was in Nicaragua which made it was very hard to mourn his passing without my family and his family present. I spent a lot of time reflecting on his life and I wrote in my journal to comfort myself. Since that loss, the greatest loss I have endured in my life has been due to infertility. My husband I were fortunate enough to not have lost a pregnancy, but each and every month that we dared to dream we might be pregnant, we felt a loss when we discovered we were not. I read that people with infertility issues deal with feelings of depression and utter despair, similar to people who are battling a life-threatening illness. At times when I felt the most desperate despair, I would turn to my family and close friends for support.  My husband and I have chosen to not share our infertility issues with anyone other than family and close friends. To deal with the intense emotions associated with infertility, I started an anonymous blog to help me work through these difficult times. Using the internet and blogging community, I reached out to other women also struggling with infertility. Their stories gave me hope and helped me to deal with the constant stress of the medical treatments and infertility in general. In times of great stress, I reach out to those close to me for emotional support and to help me deal with the issue causing the stress. Another coping mechanism I use is writing. I like to write when I am dealing with a stressful situation because it helps me to calmly and rationally think things through. In times of difficulty, I also lean on my spiritual faith to help me cope and find peace. I find that quite time reading the Bible or praying help me to feel strengthened and able to continue on until the stressful issue or difficult time has passed. I also believe it is important to care for yourself when you are stressed out, so I take time to do something relaxing, such as taking a bubble bath, having a quite dinner with my husband, taking a walk, or listening to music. I found that the trainings provided by the Children’s Home of Reading were not only interesting and informative, but they also provided us an opportunity to meet foster parents in our area. Some of the other participants in the trainings had been foster parents for several years and their insight was invaluable in helping us to understand what it is like to navigate the child welfare system. To hear the stories of the folks who invite children in need to join their families was very touching and also enlightening. The training services were also an invaluable crash course on the various needs, both physical and emotional, that children in the foster care system might have or develop. Most importantly, the classes revealed that there are many resources available for foster and adoptive families to facilitate diagnosis, treatments, and general healing for the children in their care. Berks County has many human services that provide help in various levels for the children and for the families as well.  Prior to the service trainings offered by CHOR, I only considered children with severe disabilities to be “special needs.” During the training, I learned that there are many medical, emotional, or behavioral issues that require special care or treatment. I had already opened my heart to adopting a child who needs specialized and individual care and the information we learned during training solidified my decision to adopt a special needs child. My husband and I are excited to become parents and we have a lot of love and time to devote to a child, who needs not only an advocate for their care, but also encouragement, love, and stability of a permanent family. As I think about becoming a mother to a child with special needs, I am grateful that my own mother lives nearby. My mother is a nurse and has had three children, so I trust her opinion and suggestions on child-rearing. While my mother is not a community resource, she is very supportive of the adoption and a great personal resource for me and Flaco. Within the community, there are numerous programs to help families with children who have special needs. There are support groups for parents of children with autism, Down’s syndrome, childhood cancer, and many others too numerous to name. In Reading, there are programs to evaluate medical or behavioral issues, some located in the County Services building. The staff at CHOR are also a great resource, to help find necessary services for any needs our child might have. Depending on the severity of our child’s needs, Flaco and I might need to take some classes or instructions to be taught how to manage the treatments or issues our child might have. Just as with any first time parents, I doubt Flaco and I can fathom how our lives will be changed by the addition of a child with special needs. Currently, we have no children living in our home and we are only obligated to care for ourselves and one another, plus our two cats and one dog. More than anything, we are excited to be welcoming a baby or toddler into our home. We so strongly desire to be parents, that any changes to our lives will be welcomed and embraced. With our work schedules, Flaco will be caring for our baby Monday’s and Tuesday’s during his days off. I will be caring for our child exclusively on the weekends and the nights that Flaco works. We expect that we will be getting less sleep and less leisure time together, but in exchange we will have the greatest joy of watching our child learn and grow; our home will be filled with childish giggles, baby toys, and precious art projects. We are eager to share our lives with a child. While my in-laws live thousands of miles away in Nicaragua, my own family is relatively close by. My parents are very excited to become grandparents, since I am their eldest child, they do not yet have any grandchildren. My mother is already converting my old bedroom into a “baby” room for when we are visiting and for when the child is older and wants to spend the night. She is anxious to buy baby clothes and read all the books she once read to me and my two younger siblings. My father looks forward to big bear hugs and teaching his grandchild to drive a tractor and collect chicken eggs. My parents were wonderful parents and will be excellent grandparents. Flaco’s family too is very excited to welcome a new member to the family. Unfortunately, we only get to visit them every year to two years, but we are eager to take our child on a trip to Nicaragua. Flaco is the eldest in his family and his parents do not have any grandchildren, at this point. They will cherish our visits and getting to know our baby, as will Flaco’s four younger siblings. Flaco and I both grew up in strong families with both parents present. We hope to offer our child the same stability and love that our parents showed us. Children “catch” more than they “learn.” In other words, children will emulate their parents; therefore, it is imperative that both parents display proper behavior to their children. Disciplining a child requires that both parents are in agreement over the rules and regulations for the house and for the child. One parent cannot say yes while the other parent says no. As children grow it is normal for them to test their boundaries by acting out or misbehaving to see if it is an acceptable action and if the parents will follow through with enforcing the rules. When a child is disobedient, they must learn there are negative consequences for not behaving and following the rules their parents have set. Young children can be placed in “time out” for a few minutes, depending on their age. Rewarding a child’s good behavior is as equally as important as any punishment. It is also essential that the child understand their parents love for them does not waiver, regardless of their behavior. I believe we will be strict but loving parents, trying to guide our child to become a well-rounded, compassionate adult. Growing up, I always assumed I would be a mother. As my husband I began this journey of starting our family, things did not go as planned. I had hoped to have at least one child before I turned 30, but that date came and went. Initially, we had hoped to have perhaps 3-4 children; however we will now be grateful for at least one. Life does not always work out as we plan and we are grateful to have the opportunity to raise and love a child, even if he or she come to us through adoption. I am thankful that CHOR offers a foster-to-adopt program to help couples like us find our beautiful child and I look forward to becoming someone’s mom.

 

 

Give thanks

     When dealing with infertility, it is often times too easy to think of all you are missing out on in life and sometimes hard to find something to be thankful for. But, I am feeling more thankful this year than I have in the past three years. I don't know if it's just because of the fact that we got a call last week about a placement (even if it didn't work out, it gave me hope that we are indeed on "the list" and that things are moving behind the scenes that I have no idea about) or I'm just trying extra hard to put myself in a thankful frame of mind. In any event, I am very thankful that I have a roof over my head, more than enough food on my table (my grandmother cooks enough to feed an army!), a loving family surrounding me, a job to pay (almost) all my bills, and more creature comforts than a large chunk of the world will ever know. I am incredibly thankful that Flaco and I have decided to adopt and that the good Lord put a special friend in my life to act as my guide through this process. Her wisdom and experiences help keep me sane in this turbulent time. I am thankful for all my infertile blogger friends who have recently gotten pregnant or are about to give birth. While I might struggle to find happiness for pregnant friends or new moms who never had to worry about ovulation or sperm count, I find it exhilarating for my infertile friends who are able to experience their miraculous pregnancies. I am thankful for my general good health - other than infertility issues, I have no medical problems or ailments and I am so thankful for that. I thank the Lord for my wonderful supportive friends -they keep me going when times get tough. I am thankful for my loving husband who drives me crazy and makes me laugh. I pray for more happy years together with mi amor. I am eager for our next step in this journey. For the first time in a long time, I am looking forward to the future with hope and anticipation.

I will enter His gates with thanksgiving in my heart
I will enter His courts with praise
I will say this is the day that the Lord has made
I will rejoice for He has made me glad
He has made me glad, He has made me glad
I will rejoice for He has made me glad

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

So Close!

     I was almost a new mom today - as my second friend in two weeks gives birth to a son. . . . So, here's the story. I got a call at work just before lunch and I was standing near my desk doing something else, so I let it go to voicemail. Well, it was Consuelo from CHOR. She said she had a referral for us, even though our paperwork was not yet done. The baby was 18 months old and he was currently in foster care, but they wanted to place him with a "legal risk" family who might want to adopt him. He has some medical issues and is classified as medically fragile. She asked me to call her back, which I did immediately. She said she would need to see how the county felt about us not being completely approved, but that I should talk it over with Flaco and get back to her. I called Flaco immediately, but had to leave him a message. When I finally did get ahold of Flaco he just kept saying, yes, yes, yes. So, I called Consuelo back to let her know this and that I had some more questions about the child's health and how long he had been in the system, plus anything else she could tell me. She said the baby had only been in the system for 2 months, both his parents are Hispanic and he is from Berks County. He is considered medically fragile because he was very underweight for his age and is still underweight, even after 2 months getting proper nutrition. He has 4 older siblings who were in foster care, but are now back with their parents. Apparently, the dad likes to have lots of babies with lots of women and both parents are rather young. The mom might only be about 20 years old - and already has 5 kids!!! Anyway, she said the county didn't really explore everything with the current foster family and apparently they might be open to legal risk and therefore the child would not be moved, unless he is reunited with his family (which is still currently the goal). So, we are supposed to solider on with completing our paperwork and fax Consuelo what we have right now (which is everything but the picture and the animal vaccination records). My friend who is wrapping up her adoption of a little girl through CHOR said not to be surprised if we get a lot of calls this time of year because they seem to have a lot of kids come into the system right before the holidays. I hope this means another placement is right around the corner! I kind of freaked out a bit, thinking of day care and getting a car seat and a crib . . . And, I also already felt myself getting attached. I imagined bringing him home and showing him the animals and his room and playing with him. I imagined taking him to Thanksgiving and maybe even Christmas!!! Yeah, I was kind of like the Tasmanian devil, spinning in circles, babbling, with spittle flying everywhere. . . . . Flaco has since changed his mind and said he doesn't want to have a baby in our home if there is still a great chance he or she will be leaving us - in other words, he has doubt about the legal risk status. I just pray that the "right" situation will present itself to us with the "right" baby and God will make it happen. For whatever reason, the adoption process seems to be going a lot smoother and easier than trying to conceive. . . . Technically, we are still on the list for this baby, but I feel fairly certain Consuelo will call us next week to let us know his foster family wants to keep him. Our baby is still out there on his/her quest to reach us . . . . .

The Final Nail in the Coffin

I was debating whether to title this post “the final nail in the coffin” or “the straw that broke the camels back” but I decided to go with “the final nail in the coffin” because it seems more fitting to explain how I feel. Yesterday I had a voicemail from the “new” infertility doctor’s office stating that they had called my insurance company and I have absolutely no coverage for infertility treatments (which I knew) and therefore, they would need to collect $250 from me for the initial consultation next Tuesday. Yes, 250 bucks just for the privilege of sitting down and talking to a doctor who I already know is going to tell me A) I need to lose weight, B) I need to keep taking the Metformin, and C) any procedure he prescribes will be more money than we will be able to pay. 

So, I called my mom to let her know I will be cancelling the appointment and if she could let Dr. F. know this as well. I think my mom was more up-set by this turn of events than I am. She still has the hope that I will miraculously get pregnant. And why shouldn’t she believe that? It happened for her! After trying to get pregnant and failing for 5 years, my parents decided to start building a house (their current house). They brought me home before all the walls were up because my mom got pregnant almost immediately after they started this immense project. So, sure it makes sense that my mom still believes in pregnancy miracles. I, however, do not. 

The final nail in the coffin is the last little morsel of hope quietly leaving me. Why should I be surprised? I am ADOPTING a baby. I am not HAVING a baby or GIVING birth or anything like that. The last door has closed on a biological baby. I don’t know why this situation has such a ring of finality to me, but it does. And as much as I hate to hear it, I let my mother wholeheartedly believe that we, just like soooooooo many other people, might adopt a baby only to find ourselves pregnant shortly after. I don’t believe it. I don’t think it’s healthy to believe this poppycock and bullshit. But, I can’t dash my mom’s dreams as mine have so often been shattered. I let her believe that this might happen to us. But, I do not believe. 

We are approaching our three year –what should I call it? Anniversary sounds too celebratory. Anyway, we are nearly into our third year of trying to get, find, have, create, procure, build, begin, design, develop, make our family. And if I had a penny for every tear I have shed or for every time I had to run to the bathroom to hide my tears at work, in these past three years, I would have more than enough money to pay for IVF. I still can’t figure out why God has decided we don’t deserve a biological baby. I don’t think I ever will understand it. If He has had the idea that I would experience some kind of personal growth, I think it has backfired. Rather than being a better human being, I find myself a more bitter human being (I am working on that, by the way). I have been carefully constructing an impenetrable wall around my heart, to ward off the incessant pain of not being a mother of not having a baby of disappointing my husband month after month after month after miserable month. So, it is over now. Infertility has won. I wave the white flag to surrender.   

Wasting Postage

     So, I think I have what we need for our W2s. My friend Eeyore from the IRS mailed out 14 letters to me and Flaco. Yes, 14 letters - one for each of the W2s requested. Now, we did not actually get the W2 form we all know and love, with all the little boxes and deductions, etc. Instead, we got the information contained in the W2s in letter form. I'm guessing this will be acceptable. My qualm with this is that Eeyore sent each one to us individually. Really? I mean, I could understand if she sent mine and Flaco's separately for confidentiality or whatever - but FOURTEEN different letters?!?! And we wonder why our government is going broke? That was over $6 when it might have been $2-3 if it was sent in one large packet. Ok, I'll climb down off my soapbox now.
    
     Now our next step is to get the animals to the vet. We have an appointment on 11/29. I plan to have everything copied and ready to go so that the next morning I can get it all to Consuelo. I think she might need to come back to our house, but hopefully, we will be approved the beginning of December. And then we can officially begin waiting for a baby. Who knows, maybe we will have an especially merry Christmas? The week before the animals go to the vet I will meet with another new doctor. This will be the 4th doctor I will be seeing to try to get pregnant. I'm not looking forward to the appointment. Internally, I am still battling with the hope/despair of a biological child. I have a friend who is going to the hospital tomorrow to be induced. I have another friend (and her sister) who will be having a baby in the next couple of weeks. That leaves only three other pregnant women whom I know. This just all feels tiring to me. I'm tired of feeling my stomach tie itself in knots over another woman's blessing. I'm tired of fighting so hard to not be green with envy for what another person has. I'm tired. We are approaching our three year anniversary of trying to conceive. That seems insanely long to me. Like a lifetime has passed in this limbo. And I don't just mean waiting for a baby, but there are so many things I have denied myself due to possibly being or getting pregnant - things like blue cheese, seafood, alcohol, Aleve (for more headaches than I can remember), cold meds, caffeine, and the list goes on. So, I don't know why I am going forward with this appointment. Maybe it's the soft, yet urgent ticking of my biological clock. It could be my genetic and biological innate desire to reproduce. Whatever it is, I'm nervous about what the doctor will say. . . . .

     I haven't been reading many other infertility blogs, so I'm not sure how many people are aware of this. Mississippi Personhood Law - it's scary what might happen. Now, let me put out there that I am staunchly pro-life (other than in the case of rape or incest or if the mother's life is in danger), but this is ridiculous! There are so many couples who are blessed to have biological children only because of the technology of IVF. This attempt to outlaw all abortions seems to only be hurting couples already in pain because of infertility. I have not checked to see if this has passed, but I certainly hope it has not! I am sure there are other blogs out there with more eloquent and convicting arguments than I have now, but I did want to share this issue.

Moving at a Snail's Pace

     So, we are moving along in the adoption process. We are just moving slowly. Like molasses in January. But, I figure as long as we are moving forward, we are not moving backwards! I was finally able to procure our W2 forms. I think. On Wednesday I finally found time to call the IRS. After 5 minutes of navigating prompts, I was interrupted by a return call from the new infertility office to schedule my first appointment. It's 11/22. So, back through the prompts and after a 15 minute wait with the most grating elevator music playing over and over again, a woman finally answered the phone. And wow, did she need a Prozac or something! No matter how bubbly I was, her Eeyore-esque manner could not be shaken. Anyway, I explained why I was calling and she dimly said she could get this information for the past 10 years, as long as it was available on the system. She said this multiple times, which I can only guess to mean there is a gap in my W2 history - I'm guess this might be from when I was in the Peace Corps and college. And of course Flaco will only have about 4-5 W2's because he has only been here that long. But, she had me wait on the line until she had all the forms ready to be mailed. So, we should be getting the the W2's in the mail sometime early next week. At least this is my hope.
     So, since the W2 situation has now been figured out, I called and made the appointment for the cats and the dog to go to the vet for their vaccines on 11/29. Hopefully, I will be able to send everything to Consuelo by the first of December! And, I am assuming that no news is good news when it comes to our medical checks. I am assuming we passed our physicals. I truly hope and expect that we will be fully approved before the beginning of the new year. But, I don't want to get too excited by this prospect, just in case there are unforeseen complications.
     So, since I made the appointment to see New Infertility Doctor, the office sent me a packet the size of Rhode Island to fill out. Honestly, I am not looking forward to this appointment. I kind of feel like I am setting myself up for some more heartache and disappointment. But, I also feel some insatiable urge to continue trying - this insane dance of infertility! I am nervous about what this doctor will suggest we try. Dr. F. thinks I will need to try a "stronger" medicine to provoke ovulation - I'm sensing this will mean injections. I already told my mom and she has already agreed to come and give me any shots I might need. I have a phobia about needles and although I do much, much better after the nearly weekly shots in the Peace Corps and more recently the weekly blood drawing during infertility treatments, I cannot give myself a shot. When I was in high school and college I suffered from severe migraines. At one point, after visiting my roommate in Connecticut over summer break, I had lobster which apparently contains iodine that caused me to have a horrific migraine. I was in tears and in pain, but I could not force myself to use the pen full of medicine to give myself a shot. My mom did it for me. Good thing she is a nurse! So, she knows that I will definitely need help should injections be the course of action. Thankfully, she is willing! And who knows, maybe I am worried for nothing. Maybe the infertility doctor will not prescribe a medicine that does not require needles.
     So, that is all for now. One foot in front of the other, step by tiny step, we are making progress. At least, this is what I choose to believe. . . . .