Good-bye 2013

I finally got my period today – it was roughly 3 ½ weeks late. And of course it is heavy and crampy because that is just how life is – it kicks you in the teeth when you are down……. The end of the year is always a time I reflect on the past year and look forward to a better one to come. Or at least I used to…. That’s when I believed that I had any choice in what happens, that I could make plans and goals and resolutions. But, surely you’ve heard that we make plans and God laughs at us? So, then there must be no point in making plans. Just get up and do what needs to be done that day. I thought about making goals for 2014, improving on this past year, but I don’t see a point now. What’s going to happen, will happen and I’m powerless to do much about it. Overall, 2013 wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t fantastic either. This past year was one of growth and frustration. I finally extracted myself from Flaco and met someone decent (we are staying in tonight – ordering take out and watching a movie or two). I was a lot more handy and on top of things around the house (there’s still a lot of room for improvement, but no point in planning on it). I had my longest placement, which lasted nearly the entire year and I was officially approved to adopt, although a permanent placement seems rather elusive.  I’ve been told that I should keep believing that something good will happen, that God will answer my prayers. I’ve been told to not lose faith, to keep praying and to remember in the scripture it says God will not forsake us, He has plans to prosper us. In this world we will have trouble but He leaves us His peace. I keep looking for evidence of a plan or a reason why all this has been happening. Some people believe that all things happen for a reason, but I do not. This 5 year string of unfortunate events does not have meaning, it’s not happening for a reason, unless I am to believe that 5 years ago and every year since I wasn’t good enough to become a mother. Sometimes life just sucks because life just sucks. God can use the pain and suffering to do something good and I do believe that what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger. But, I’m sick to death of being stronger! How much stronger must I get? I do believe God has a plan but I’m beginning to think His plan and mine are not the same thing. Maybe God will prove me wrong and 2014 will turn out to be different, maybe it will be “the year” instead of 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, or 2013…….

Not Meant to Be

Why this wasn’t meant to be is something I cannot comprehend. Not even a little bit. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.” I dread returning the baby clothing that was bought in such elation. I will dutifully put the basinet and car seat back in the basement and try not to think too much about the implication of storing useless furniture. The baby clothing I washed and put in the baby dresser can stay where it is – I have no immediate need for the space in the drawers and perhaps the clothing will be needed before too long. The pain will recede and soon I will be thinking about another baby from another phone call or email. This is the life of a foster-to-adopt parent. The family worker told me the county is going to have a hearing in 30 days and that if things are not going according to the safety plan the baby might go into care. How f-ing ignorant! Why does there need to be a safety plan if this person is the right choice, the best option? It’s just what I expected to hear, only it sucks hearing it.

 

A friend told me today that, in her experience, you just need to live your life and be happy and then things will happen for you. Her story is that when she decided she wanted to have kids her husband decided he didn’t (even though they had both agreed they did want kids before they got married) and so for 5 years they battled over this life altering decision until he relented (after she moved out) and they are now expecting a second (accidental) child. She wondered if I was happy with my life as it is right now. I wouldn’t say I am unhappy with my life in general. Am I happy right now? Well, no. But, that’s just because of this whole “you’re getting a baby!” “no you’re not, his aunt has shown up ” situation. I do wish things were different in my life, not just because I don’t have a child. I wish things didn’t happen the way they did with Flaco (and sometimes I wish I had never married him!). I wish I (we) had made better financial decisions so I wouldn’t be where I am financially. I would say there is a general level of discontent due to the upheaval I experienced in 2012, but I’m not depressed or miserable or even generally unhappy. I’m just kind of stuck. I have done things for me – I took a writing course and I’m contemplating taking another. I’ve gone on three bus trips this year and I’ve completed two furniture projects with more ideas in the works. I did much better with my flower garden this year and have plans for more things next year. I guess I would say I feel like there is something missing in my life, even when I am happy. I’ve adjusted to living alone and to being unattached. I’m trying to date ( we are officially considered boyfriend and girlfriend now – there was a long discussion about this when we went out Saturday night) and stay busy. Do I wish things were different? Yes, I do. But, I have come to accept the things I cannot change, no matter how much I don’t like them. Am I happy today? No, not really. I’m upset about what happened with first getting a baby and then not.   

 

Tomorrow is another day. The last day of the year, in fact. 2013 was a marked improvement from 2012, but still full of ups and downs, with one final downer at the end. But, there will be other placements, why get so hung up on this one? I am giving myself a cut-off date because I cannot live life like this indefinitely. If I do not have an adoption placement by this time next year, I am done. I am giving myself the next year, 2014, and if I don’t get a placement that is moving towards permanency, then I am going to stop. And I don’t mean this like other deadlines I have given myself, I just need to see an end in sight. Maybe I will stop and just take a break or maybe I will stop for good, but I can’t keep living this way. I’m sure this constant up and down is not good for me and I don’t think it can go on forever. So, if things don’t happen in 2014 like I’m hoping they do, I will be biding motherhood adieu this time next year…….

Same Old, Same Old

I am sad. But, at the same time there is a feeling of sameness. I’ve been here before, have I not? This is not a new pain to me, it is the same old pain that has been a specter in my life for the last 5 years. And yes, I know there will be other placements, but when a friend told me this morning “there will be others” I couldn’t help but wonder if she would offer the same flippant response to a woman grieving a miscarriage? In reality this baby was never mine, but in my heart he was. The pain of losing him is no less real because I never “had” him. I suppose I should not pontificate on things I know nothing about – I have never experienced the heartbreak of a miscarriage, but I can imagine how painful it must be, knowing how I feel after losing a placement that was never mine. I know I am speaking as if everything is already a done deal when in fact it is not. I suppose there is some slim chance this aunt is a hot mess incapable of caring for this beautiful baby boy. I should remain hopeful and positive. I was reading a Bible study this morning that was talking about giving our worries and burdens to God, just giving up trying to figure things out and trying to make things happen and just trust God to take care of us. I want to be able to do that and get the peace that supposedly comes with placing your burden in God’s hands. But, I can’t. I just can’t give it up and say, “You handle it” because I fear He will decide I’m not worthy or that His plan is for me to wait longer or never become a mother at all. I fear He won’t give me what I want and so I fight for it. Unfortunately, I’m pretty darn stubborn about it. I guess I find it hard to believe that I could possibly get what I have been striving to have for so long (on the surface 5 years doesn’t seem like a long time, but in this battle it sure does!). I don’t want to remain childless for the rest of my life and I don’t want to wait until I find someone before I become a mother. But, if I am fighting God’s will, I’m just spinning my tires. I don’t know what to do. I know there is an insatiable urge within my heart to become a mother. I have always wanted to be a mother and I did the responsible thing. I got married, bought a house, saved some money and then decided it was time to try to start a family. And once I started there seems to be no way to go back. I can’t stop. A switch has been flipped and cannot be turned off, I cannot stop doing all I can do to become a mother. If this is such a big burning desire in my heart, how can it not be part of God’s will to let me become a mother? I want to be humble and submit to God’s will, but I want His will to be mine. I have been told God is in control and God has a plan and I believe that (most days) but at face value things seem pretty messed up right now and too scrambled to be part of any plan. Obviously, I cannot see how all these things fit together and I cannot see the end results, but I could see how perfect it would have been. It was easy to see a beautiful plan last Friday – getting a baby boy from the hospital two days before Christmas. Sheer perfection! Now, it just seems like torture. What lesson am I to get out of this, other than I cannot get my hopes up and I should keep things to myself and not get others to join me on this roller coaster ride.

 

Not for the first time a few friends of mine, who are familiar with adopting from foster care, have suggested I look into working directly with a county children and youth services organization rather than CHOR, which is a secondary agency. The county’s always look to find a placement with their own families before they turn to a secondary agency, like CHOR. The logic would be that there are more options for families working with the county agencies rather than the other agencies. After this heartache I am seriously considering it. I wanted to stay with CHOR because I felt some loyalty for them since they didn’t toss me out after the issue with the first placement. And, because I fear my name is mud with my own county and that they would never take me on as a foster-to-adopt parent. The other thing I need to worry about is that I am completely and totally ready, approved, and done with the process, the paperwork, and training (although every year we need more hours of  training). If I jump ship I worry I will have to start all over again from scratch. A friend who works in CYS asked if CHOR couldn’t just transfer my paperwork to the county. She suggested I talk to one of the supervisors at  Berks CYS about what happened two years ago to see if they would consider taking me on. The other option I have is to work with Montgomery County because the case worker from the last case I had already asked me to move with them. This would potentially mean driving an hour one way for training, but if I could get a baby faster, it would be worth it. I guess I will have to look into it after the holidays. But, it would mean another issue for me – finding child care. I know three CHOR families that have a daycare in their home, but if I leave CHOR I would need to find other foster families at the new agency and  that can sometimes be hard. Especially, if I leave the county and would have to drive far to take the child to daycare. So, there are a lot of things I need to consider before I make the decision. My family worker will be coming over in the next few weeks to do my annual home visit and I guess I will need to talk to her about it.

 

I want to be able to put this whole messy ordeal behind me, not just what happened with this baby but the whole infertility/adoption journey. I’m afraid it has irrevocably changed me. In a good way, I know it has made me stronger and made me realize just how much I can endure. But, I think it has also robbed me of so much. Even when I am happy for someone who is having a baby, there is still a small part of me that hurts. And I worry that the strain of foster-to-adopt will make me paranoid that someone will come and steal my baby from me because a distant relative has shown up. And more than anything, I worry that I will never be able to enjoy my life because I will always have a longing to be a mother and the way things have been going that seems nearly impossible. I hope this is just one more bump in the road and I will be able to realize my dreams sooner than I think, but I just don’t know. I need to keep digging so I can let go and let God……..

Know When to Fold 'em

I won’t be getting the baby tomorrow (Friday). The hospital won’t release him until Monday, at the earliest. At this point, the county has not been able to check out the presenting relative, due to the holiday. The county won’t be able to tell CHOR anything until Monday. So, they might decide to send the baby home with his aunt and I won’t ever meet him, or hold him. I did find out his name. Not that it matters. I haven’t quite figured out how so much happiness and joy can turn into such bitter sorrow. I can’t keep my life on pause, so I’m going to move forward and chalk this up to a very hard lesson learned very well – NEVER, ever, ever, ever get your hopes up until the baby is in your arms and the judge has signed the adoption paperwork. I guess I can pack things back up, tuck them away for another call, another day. Maybe…. Perhaps I’m being as brash now in giving up as I was in rushing out to get the things I thought I would need. It’s unfortunate, but I’ve already given up and let go of the dream of getting this baby. Why hang onto hope when evidence points to more heart break? Unfortunately, while I HATE when people tell me there will always be another placement, because that means there will be another child in need, there will be other placements. I get stuck on one placement and I have a hard time moving past it. I wanted this baby, I felt such love for him without ever meeting him. That’s why having a bassinet set up in my bedroom and remain empty is too much for me to bear. And the empty car seat should not continue joy riding in the back of my car, so it shall be returned to the basement. I have baby clothing to return and I have to shove the baby tub back under my bed (it’s a pain in the neck tripping over it in the bathroom). I would rather never hold this baby, never kiss his sweet face, than have him come home to me only to have to turn right around and give him away to a relative. Never seeing him is the lesser of two evils. So, I will go back to waiting. Waiting to hear about the other two placements. Waiting for another phone call. Trying to dig deep and find some hope in God’s plan. Right now, I don’t really agree with His plan. Right now, it seems cruel to have this happen on top of everything else I have endured these last 5 years. The Bible tells us God has a good plan for our lives, to prosper us not to harm us, to give us hope and a future. This is not how I feel right now. I feel defeated, hopeless, broken, and lost. How does this roller coaster ride of high highs and low lows help me? It certainly does not give me hope. I have to dig real deep and find my mantra of “I trust You God, I trust Your plan” because let me tell you something, it’s not coming to me easy right now. I’m beginning to wonder if God’s trying to tell me to give it up already. Just stop. Know when to fold ‘em Chica. Know when to walk away…….

Just Another Heartache

I should know better, you think I would by now..... Nothing is more tenuous than a potential foster care placement. I called CHOR this morning, like I was supposed to and I even waited an extra 8 minutes (just so I wouldn't be calling at exactly 9:30). The baby had a episode over the weekend - apnea - and so the earliest he can be discharged is Friday. Bummer. Even worse? An aunt has shown up as a resource, which is foster care speak for, he could never be mine. That's the risk in legal risk. And the only thing worse than that is that my mom went crazy and bought outfits and blankets and I washed most of it and, although I don't know his name or even if he has one (I'm assuming he does), I had decided on a name for him and I washed two loads of baby clothes, washed and sterilized bottles, took off work (and made a huge mess of things in the process), I have the bassinet all set up, the diaper bag all packed, the car seat strapped in my car, I did my last minute Christmas shopping yesterday...... In other words, I was prepared and so incredibly excited and now here I sit. And there's an aunt. My perfect Christmas miracle is now just another heartache. I should have known better, really I should have........

And I hate how unemotional the case worker was - she's my family worker after all! I'm not asking for her to shed a tear, but maybe a "hey, I know it sucks, I know you must be disappointed." I can't ever let them know how I truly feel. I can't let them know how excited I am or how disappointed, nothing. I have to be an emotionally detached robot, just rolling with the punches. Don't crack a smile, don't shed a tear. She did wish me a Merry Christmas, after stealing all my joy like a proper Scrooge.

I haven't been able to sleep all weekend because I have been so excited. I woke up Saturday morning and it was like I was a kid again and it was Christmas morning! I couldn't wait to open my eyes! I pinched myself to be sure it all wasn't just a dream! Now, I look at the baby stuff and I cry. I was preparing the cloth diapers when I made the call and now they sit in disarray and I can't bring myself to touch them. I should keep the faith! This is just a small hiccup, right? Things could still work out in my favor (I say selfishly), right? I mean, I should still be picking him up Friday - at least I think so.... I won't know anything until Thursday, which is still another 3 days away. Surely, God would not let things go this far only to yank the baby away from me, right? He must just be working out the kinks, right? God has a good plan, I trust You God, I know You have a good plan for me and for the baby. Give me the peace to endure this trial, Lord........

Christmas Miracle

I can’t even breathe. It’s the nervous excitement that turns my cheeks red and my insides all jiggly. I got a call today. A legal risk placement for a newborn. He will be leaving the hospital on Monday, so I won’t know anything until then (oh the torture!) but it would be a perfect Christmas miracle! My miracle! After the CHOR adoption coordinator said “newborn” I almost stopped listening, I almost screamed YES! All I can think about is me holding that baby under the Christmas tree! And frantically searching for a baby’s first Christmas ornament (which I almost bought a few months ago – I kind of had a premonition that I should buy the ornament but I didn’t want to jinx myself). My fingers are jittery as I type this! There is a small hiccup. After the call, the case worker called back and asked what my plans were for daycare because he would be too young for traditional daycare. I explained that I used another foster family but that didn’t seem to placate her too much. She said she would report that to the county. Please oh please dear God, please let this happen! Let this baby be my baby! I love him already and I haven’t even seen just how perfect he is! A brand new precious baby to wake me up all hours of the night! A tiny bundle of joy – this is all I wanted under my Christmas tree! I need nothing more. I already called the other foster parent, she’s on board and excited. I notified my supervisor’s supervisor (because my boss is out of town the next two weeks) and she was on board and excited. I have a few friends praying for me and I’m praying a blue streak. So, please God, orchestrate this miracle for me! 


*** As it turns out God did hear my prayers and He answered them with a Christmas miracle! A little after I typed this up I got another call asking me if I could pick the baby up at the hospital on Monday. I said, "Of course! What time?" After a few more calls it was determined I would need to wait to call CHOR Monday morning around 9:30 am to be sure the baby would be getting released. And I will need to go through a 2 hour seat belt safety course at the hospital. I just can't believe it! I am walking on air! I cannot stop smiling! I cannot stop thinking about all I need to do before Monday. Luckily, I got everything worked out at work to take next week off to get us both settled into a routine. I went a little crazy and went shopping after work. There are so many cute little outfits! Oh, I love this little one so much already! I just can't believe how lucky I am to be getting a newborn! He is my perfect Christmas miracle! I can't wait to meet him!!!

Maybe Good News?

So, I think I got some good news Wednesday. But, it seems things are still confused with the multiple cases that have been recommended to me. Last week I read the profiles for two young sisters from Berks. The day before I had been called regarding twins from a different county. The email I was sent Wednesday was under the names of the two girls but mentioned the other county and twins. The email said the county was requesting my family profile, which I took as good news. I know that county’s collect family profiles like they are going out of style and then narrow things down,  interview a few and finally make a decision all the while potentially already having an idea of who they would choose from the get-go. It’s a rather disheartening process. I have developed a mantra in my mind, whenever I feel myself getting jealous or upset – “I trust You God. I trust You have a good plan for my life.” I must have said this a thousand times at the CHOR Christmas party Tuesday night. The family who had my last two foster kids before me were at the party with a 3 month old infant girl. Almost as soon as I saw them come in I started to bristle under “it’s-not-fair” mentality. So, I initiated my mantra, to assure myself that my time will come. The side effect is that I have now latched onto the idea of these twins – a girl and a boy – because it would be so “perfect” for me. Sometimes I make myself stop and think that the child(ren) I adopt now do not have to be the only child(ren) I adopt. I can decide, in a few years, that I would like to adopt again or perhaps I could save and adopt through a private agency to avoid the pitfalls of foster care (not that I think private adoption is without risk and heartache because I have read enough horror stories to know better than that!). But, this is how it happens. I hear about a potential placement and then I get hung up on it, imagining just how wonderful it would be for that child(ren) to move into my house and all the things we will do, all the places we will go. And before long I’m left broken hearted because I never hear anything about the child(ren) and so must assume they went somewhere else or I am told the county chose another family. But, someone has to choose me eventually, right? I mean, if I wasn’t suitable parent material I would not have passed all the pre-adoption tests, would I? I have been a good foster mother. The children in my care are always well-fed, clean, and using good manners (or at least being taught how to); they are loved and I always, always try my hardest to do what is best for them. We do a lot of things together and they are involved in my life and I am involved in their lives. They are treated as family, just as I imagine I would treat my own children. My home is clean and warm and I have plenty of age appropriate toys, books, and DVDs. And every now and again, I need to remind myself of all of that because hearing that the county has chosen a different family or never even being chosen for the interview is demoralizing. I know I have a lot to offer a child(ren) but it seems like I might be the only person to recognize the potential. I shouldn’t say that because the woman who wrote my family profile gave me a glowing report and the friends she spoke to reiterated what a lovely mother I would be should I ever be so lucky to be given the opportunity. My home has been empty for nearly 3 months now and I have grown accustomed to having a lot of time to myself. I’ve kept busy with a writing class and dating (I despise this word nearly as much as I despise the word “boyfriend.”). I’ve taken two bus trips to New York City and spent most Saturday’s out of the house doing something. Most days I am content with the life I have right now. But, other times I long for what I feel is missing. I don’t let myself dwell on it, like I have in the past, but I’m still pretty bummed that life didn’t quite turn out how I would have liked it to. It was not in my plan to be 32 and separated, dating, and childless. I wonder if anyone’s life really turns out just as they had imagined? I would hazard to guess not, but sometimes it seems like everyone else is getting just what they want while my hands remain empty. I’m sure I’ve said this before, but I’m thinking this could be the last holiday season I spend without my child(ren). And this might sound crazy, but I think I’m more excited about not being childless than I am about the prospect of being a “we” again.

 

Since I brought it up I might as well share my epiphany regarding Montana. I had mentioned before that there is something bugging me that I cannot quite identify. I think I know what is it – attraction. That is the missing spark – there seems to be a lack of chemistry. I talked in depth about this with my roommate from college who came to visit over the weekend. She recommended I cut my losses and move on. But, I don’t think I’m quite ready to do that just yet. There are a whole lotta things that I like about Montana – he is very kind and sweet, he’s a gentleman, a Christian, cares about his family, he’s attentive, he supports the whole foster-to-adopt thing, he’s a farm boy, and he loves to travel. All very attractive traits. And, as another friend suggested, sometimes it takes time for the spark/attraction to develop. I conceded to her recommendation that I give it some time, if for no other reason than I was so hurt and I am still healing. Unfortunately, I have already began pulling away, closing up shop, if you will. And unfortunately, he sensed that and has gotten a little clingy. We have both been busy this week and have not had time to see one another. Last night we went dancing with my friend from work and her husband. A local hotel holds Latin Dance nights on Thursdays and she’s been inviting me to go but I couldn’t because I had my writing class Thursday nights. So, last night we went. There was a communication issue when I attempted to invite Montana – he basically thought I was asking for permission to go which pissed me off to no end. I’m a grown ass woman, I don’t need to ask anyone’s permission to go out with my friends! I chalked it up to misreading a text message and have tried to forget about the whole thing. We had a nice time, but Montana was getting over a cold and I know he felt out of place – a PA Dutchy amongst all the lovely Latinos. I guess the only reason I fit in is because of my time in Nicaragua and from being married to Flaco. I bumped into a blast from the past and we danced one salsa dance. I danced with Montana once too and spent the rest of the time on the dance floor with my friend and her friends. It was nice. Montana made mention of me being so busy this week and not texting a lot. Enter huge sigh. We text daily and I’m good about getting at least one text out per day, but sometimes that’s all I can manage. I text a lot but I don’t want to get to the point where my phone is like my right hand and it’s all I can do – an addiction. So, this is the clingy part that is starting to get under my skin. And it’s kinda contradictory. I asked him how he wanted me to introduce him last night (this was the first time either one us has met friends of the other) and he suggested as a “friend” or as a “special friend.” Ok, well I only say “special friend” in quotations when I’m being sarcastic, so that’s out. And, here’s the thing with “friend” – I don’t tend to make out with my friends (some of you are heaving a huge sigh of relief right now!), so it seems like it’s not very descriptive of our situation. I know I have documented how much I loathe the term “boyfriend” but what else do you call the person you see on a regular basis and kiss and hold hands? So, yes it is strange that he doesn’t consider us boyfriend/girlfriend yet he wants to be sure I have enough time to text him every day……  He thinks we need to have a discussion about the whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing. I guess to him that term carries more weight than it does for me. I’m rather flippant about the word “boyfriend” and would use it to describe anyone I was having semi-romantic interactions with on a semi-regular basis. I don’t relish having this conversation because I highly doubt I will be able to take it as seriously as he does. I will most likely be blunt to the point I am harsh – look, either we are or we are not and if are not, then maybe it is time to move on. I’m finding this whole thing is starting to work on my nerves. It’s almost like, as much as I miss the tenderness and intimacy of a romantic relationship, I am not willing to put up with all the politics of dating to get to that point.

 

So, to summarize, it seems like things are moving ahead but they might just be stagnant – both motherhood and romantic relationship. It’s odd because I’m so good at finding the greatest friends, people who are genuine, kind, loyal, and caring. Truly, I have some of the greatest friendships a gal could ask for! Yet, when it comes to romantic relationships I suck at making a good match. Why is this? Maybe, instead of looking for a romantic relationship I should look for a new friend….. I’ll just go back to my mantra now and pray for the best…….

 

 

Dispassionate Confusion

You know when there is something that is so incredibly important to you that you imagine (sometimes falsely) that it is equally important to everyone else? And it's so crushing when you find out the thing that occupies nearly every waking thought and many, many dreams is simply a nonissue to everyone else. Well, this is how I have been feeling lately. While at work last Wednesday, I got a call from CHOR but could not answer my phone. The message stated there was a potential legal risk placement, so I called right back and mass confusion ensued. First, the person who had just left the message for me thought I was someone else and she began talking about what my agency needed. I was so confused but soon she realized her mistake. Then, after she told me about the potential legal risk case (17 month old twins, boy and girl – how perfect!) and I said yes, I asked her about the two other cases I’m waiting to hear about. Two different sets of sisters. She thought I was not interested. She thought I told her both sets were too old. I thought I had told her I was interested in both, even though one set was older than I would have liked I said their picture was too cute to say no. She had heard about the younger set of sisters but had not called me because she thought I said I was not interested. She had their profile but didn’t think there was time for me to come in and read it because the county was getting ready to start making their decision and she was going to be busy the rest of the week. Eventually, she did find someone to sit with me while I read the profile last Thursday afternoon. But, all I could think about during this conversation was that I missed out on the chance of getting a placement because someone was confused (or over-worked) and had not clarified their confusion. I have had this little niggling worry in the back of my mind that I was being forgotten and now my worst fear seems to be confirmed. I’m just lost in the shuffle. And we are not talking about tiddlywinks here, we are talking about a very important event – becoming a mother by adopting a baby! This isn’t like, oh I misplaced the hat you let me borrow or I lost your favorite CD, it’s much, much bigger than that. And yet, it seems that it’s being handled as if it were a run-of-the mill kind of situation. I’m being over-critical, I know. I’m projecting my feelings of frustration into this whole scenario. But, it does make me wonder if I ever will get to adopt, since things are not being as aggressively pursued as I would like them to be. So, as you might expect, I am not holding out much hope for any of the above mentioned placements. And I’ve said that in the past yet still filed the idea away into a hopeful section of my brain. Now, I’m fairly dispassionate about the whole thing. I want to be positive, but I think in order to not lose my mind, I just decide not to think too much about any placement in particular because then I start to imagine how it will be to meet them and before I know it my heart is breaking. It’s hard not to picture the children from the placement call or email in my home. Almost immediately, my mind begins working and my imagination takes over and before long I’ve watched them grow and leave home, all in one fantastic daydream. But, too soon the vision fades and hope is lost as no news is forthcoming and a new placement supersedes the old. I am reminded again and again - adoption is not for the faint of heart!

 

The profile I read last Thursday was again one of great sadness at what such young children must endure and how it is seemingly impossible for people to break the cycle of poverty and poor parenting. There were some issues but nothing that seemed too much for me to handle. The placement is through Berks County, so I’m fairly certain I will not be chosen for the interview process. I don’t know how long BCCYS holds a grudge, but I’m fairly certain my name is still on “the list” and will be immediately dismissed. Maybe that’s just the pessimist in me talking. I noticed the other set of sisters have been added to the SWAN website and they too are from Berks. I am still contemplating contacting the adoption coordinator to tell her I would consider adopting them and at least get a chance to read their profile. But, I haven’t totally decided on that yet, because the youngest is at the age of my highest limit and the older girl is older than that. I will pray about it. The greatest hope I have is for the twins because they are from a different county, although there is the potential for a kinship situation to develop – which is scary. I do think it would be simply perfect to have a girl and a boy (a son and a daughter – you know I never say that, not even to myself) and they are still so young one would hope they have not had to endure as much as the older children. I don’t let myself think about how perfect it would be to have them moved with me before Christmas. I have very little hope that this Christmas will be any different from any other past Christmas’ – childless.

 

You see, last year the Grinch stole Christmas. I was miserable and I just wanted the holidays to be over with as little fanfare as possible. In reality, I love the holiday season and I love fanfare as well. So, I was uncharacteristically Scrooge-like last year. This year, I think I’ve tried to make up for my previous miserly mindset by going all out Christmas. I started outside. Never have I ever hung Christmas lights until a few weeks ago. And then I nearly died while hanging one strand of icicle lights along the front of my house. First, I tried the step stool but I couldn’t reach the spouting from under the eaves of the porch. So, then I got the ladder I have in my basement but realized I would need to lean it against something, since it does not stand on it’s on. This led to a perilous balancing act as I climbed atop the precariously perched ladder then leaned back to strap on the little plastic clip holding the lights. Quite a feat! I survived this ordeal and moved on the putting up some garland around the door and on the railing. Once this was accomplished it was off to find a Christmas tree. My eyes got a little misty picking out a tree all by myself, but I focused on trying to find a small tree. Small tree. I need a small tree for my small house. The problem is I love the BIG FAT trees, the fatter the better. I found a nice tree, had it loaded in the trunk of my car and even managed to lug it into the house and plop it on the tree stand all by myself! Christmas decorating is awful hard work! I did at one point consider giving up and not decorating again because it was taking me forever and I was getting frustrated with how difficult it was to do alone. But, instead I powered through it.  I found a lot of forgotten decorations in the basement and proceeded to drench the house in Christmas garb – candles, Santas, stockings, a table cloth and table runner, even hot pads and tea towels! The next night I decorated the tree only after discovering that the half of both of the two strands of lights for the tree don’t work. I just made sure those areas were in the back of the tree – the big, fat tree that takes up half of my living room! I had to move my couch and two end tables until they were almost blocking the front door to make room for the tree and half of it is still shoved into my bookshelf. Who cares? I like it and since I’m the only one seeing it, that’s all that matters. That same night in the snow, I rigged up some more lights in a box in front of the house (it looks kinda country) and I added the last touch of red bows with fresh greens. The best part? When I open my front door I am greeted with the delirious fragrance of my Christmas tree! So take that Mr. Grinch!

 

In other unrelated news, Montana came over Friday night two weeks ago after I invited him on a whim. It was a cold and rainy night. He had mentioned something earlier in the day via text that the weather made it a good day to watch a movie and cuddle on the couch. So that is what I invited him to do. It was nice and simple. We watched My Big Fat Greek Wedding.  He had never seen it, I love it, and we didn’t feel like running to the Red Box to find something new. Since it was a short movie, we turned on the TV and watched some shows on HGTV while chatting and holding hands. It’s strange to be back at that stage again, but it’s good to move slow. At least I know he is very respectful and certainly not pushy. I just hope he’s not too vanilla. But, I suppose that’s just the fear creeping in again. I guess I just worry that the one thing Flaco was always good at, this new relationship won’t be able to deliver. I’m putting the cart before the horse and comparing apples to oranges, I suppose. I don’t want to be a Debbie Downer. I wish I could just let go and jump into this with abandon, but I think those carefree days are well behind me. At every step I feel myself holding back, just a little something, a little kernel of myself. I have relationship PTSD – I think every noise is the end raining down upon me again. I fear every eyebrow raise is a decision to walk out, every contradicting opinion is a step towards dissolution, that every good bye is forever. Wednesday night we went out to see Christmas lights and then came home to my house for homemade cocoa (my mom’s family’s recipe). We talked for a little while and then kissed for a little while. And there is still something that keeps bugging me. Something I cannot put my finger on. I guess it is fear. I’m having a hard time keeping Flaco out of things in my mind – I hate to call it comparing, but I guess that’s what it is. I never really had any other relationship other than Flaco and I know I can’t expect things to be the same, but there is something missing. I tried to explain to a friend that when we were kissing there was no spark, no tingle. For all the time I was with Flaco there was always a spark, that special little feeling when our lips met. I keep telling myself it just takes time and that eventually it will develop, but I worry. I hate the awkwardness of meeting someone new and doing that stupid courting dance. I like things to feel comfortable between us, but we are not there yet. My friend admonished me to move slow and I think that I am and I am not trying to move things along, it’s just something is bugging me and I just can’t shake that feeling. I keep praying for complete healing in this area because I have come too far to give up at this point. When I start to worry or second guess things, I just tell myself that slow and steady wins the race – it’s good to move slowly. What I really need to do is stop thinking, or stop thinking so critically. Why must life be so complicated? Why must I be suspicious of someone who is kind and has a lot of the same values and interests as me yet pine for what could have been with someone who never really loved me and could callously walk away from me like I am nothing? I’m afraid I will screw things up and end up alone the rest of my life. I was so willing to compromise for Flaco and now I find I am rigid in my demands for perfection – how did this happen? When did this happen? I know why it happened – he left. My friend says she would rather be with someone who is kind and wants to be with her than to be with someone where there are sparks. I said, why can’t you have both? I think I settled too quickly the first time around and I am not so willing to do that a second time. Isn’t it true that the only things certain in life are death and taxes? There is no such thing as a sure thing, so I just need to let it be what it will be. One step at a time…..   

 

Sick Thanksgiving

I guess it was a good thing I didn’t have a new placement just before Thanksgiving because I was really sick. I spent nearly all Thanksgiving day in bed and paid the price when I forced myself to go to dinner at my aunt and uncles house. I slept from 6:30 pm until 9 am the next day. I felt better Black Friday but to play it safe, I stayed home and read a book in my pjs all day. Not really what I wanted to do on my long weekend vacation, but you’ll have this now won’t you? I keep hoping that the volume of calls I got last December for potential placements would be the same this December, but still my phone remains maddeningly quiet. I think I have fairly given up on getting a placement before Christmas and expect to be waiting well into the new year. With the paltry placements I have been presented, I think my wait could be extended for many months to come. In my feverish dreams, I saw tiny baby’s and, like a twisted Roesch blot, I saw the form of an infant sucking it’s thumb in a shadow during the pastor’s sermon at church on Sunday. It’s safe to say I have baby on the brain. If only these images would morph into a real baby and end my tiresome wait. There are two placements of sisters I am waiting to hear about still but I guess after a few weeks with no updates I give up hope and resume my laborious wait for my baby.

 

So, I have been kind of seeing someone. I know this blog is about infertility and chasing my dream to become a mom and not about my love life (or lack thereof), but I also use this blog as a sounding board for myself, so here goes. We met through match.com. He was in Montana at the time (so let’s call him Montana) working on harvesting fields of wheat, but he was originally from PA, not too far from where I live. We began talking via the match.com website, then exchanged email addresses and finally phone numbers to text. We talked on a near daily basis the entire month of August, September, and October. He had originally planned to come home the end of September, but he stayed to help his cousins (he was living with them) in their business since one of their workers got hurt. He came home in the middle of November and we went out twice – once to Panera just to talk and once for dinner. He is polite, kind and thoughtful and we always have a nice time when we go out, but there’s something I can’t put my finger on, that bugs me. And I worry that it is me. Flaco has been gone, long gone, and good riddance – most days. I wouldn’t take him back no matter what he promised because finally having distance from him I can see him for who and what he is – a narcissistic, self-centered, over-sexed asshole. I loved him, wholly and freely and with total disregard of other’s opinions of him. Falling in love with Flaco was easy and fast. Now, nothing seems to be easy. Montana is very careful to never mention the future and he never makes any promises of what “we” can do, he plays it safe at every turn. To be fair, he was hurt too. He was never married, but he was engaged and he moved to Ohio to be with her. He worked for her father and even stayed on for over a year after they broke up – that is until her father hired the new boyfriend. He had bought a house in Ohio which he finally sold, after having renters, while he was in Montana. Maybe I just don’t know how to date. I never really did it. It’s not like Flaco and I ever went out to dinner and a movie in Nicaragua. And I didn’t date in high school or college either – I just never found anyone who was interested. I guess the thing I can’t put my finger on is fear. I’m afraid I will get hurt. Just like the adage about getting back on a horse after getting bucked off or you will never ride again – once bitten twice shy. Just like waiting to adopt, I need to be patient and let this thing unfold into whatever it will be. I will say, that Montana is the nicest guy and least creepy guy I’ve met from a dating website. I guess I just wish he wasn’t as hurt as I am, so that at least one of us could be coming at this thing whole. But, I guess at our age, that isn’t likely. Part of me wishes we could just fast forward past all this awkward getting to know you stuff, to the part where our relationship is comfortable, like a good pair of jeans that are broken in to fit perfectly, rather than the starchy new ones that don’t want to bend to the curves of your body. We’re starchy. And I get the sense that, hurt or not, he moves cautiously, whereas I charge ahead like the proverbial bull in a China shop. So, we will hopefully be going out again on Wednesday and see where this goes. He doesn’t yet consider us boyfriend and girlfriend. It’s like trying on a pair of shoes you like a half dozen times before deciding to buy them. I don’t think he’s decided he’s buying anything yet. Here’s an example – the day after I was sick he text me and said that he thought about sending me flowers but didn’t know if I would like them or if it was too early for that…. And, another example, when he told me he would be alone for Thanksgiving because his parents were going to a wedding in Missouri and would be flying out on Thanksgiving day, I said my parents always had a standing invitation for any friends of mine that would like to join our family to celebrate. He declined, saying it was too soon. Sure, meeting family on a holiday when everyone is there and in rare form, could be daunting, but we are all pretty inclusionary so to us it makes sense. Me personally, I would rather be with someone than alone during the holidays. But, his 16 year old brother stayed home with him, so he wasn’t totally alone (and I realize here that I should mention he does live at home with his parents but in a part of the house that has been converted into an apartment and he is the eldest of 7, his youngest sister is only 13 years old!). He offered to help me put my Christmas tree up and I think I will take him up on this offer because I have never done it by myself. I thought about not getting a tree again this year, since I’m the only one living in the house, but I really want to be in better spirits this year and I just love love love love love the smell of a Christmas tree in the house. Plus, despite cramping an already cramped space, it is cheery to have a tree all decorated and lit up. I’ll put some garland and lights outside too and have a merry little Christmas. I can’t live in the shadow of what happened forever, it’s time to shake off the hurt and pain and just jump back into life. I can’t live my life waiting for something good to happen, I have to make the most of every day I’m given and find the happiness in small things and joy in simplicity. So, bring me some figgy pudding and a white Christmas!

Not so Perfect Timing

I can’t help but think about timing. There have been many points along this journey where I thought it would have been a perfect time to get a placement for one sentimental reason or another. Once again, I am thinking “now would be the perfect time” and not just because I am anxious about finally being able to adopt. Tomorrow I will be able to leave work a few hours early, thanks to the governor, and that is followed by a 4 day weekend for the Thanksgiving holiday (we have off Black Friday but not Good Friday – score one for consumerism). What better time to take in a child and spend guilt-free days getting settled (yes, I feel guilty if I take off work for a new placement – my boss next to never takes a day off and he passive-aggressively expects everyone else to follow his example). What is that saying about man making plans and God laughing? It’s just another reminder that my timing is not God’s timing and surely He has this whole event planned down to the exact perfect minute. Even if that minute is not the one I think is perfect……

Some days are hard

The boy I was supposed to have for respite this past weekend never came – his foster mother changed her mind about needing respite. I’m still a little miffed about being asked to take him as a foster care placement. I guess what bothers me the most is that it makes me feel like I’m good enough to be a foster mother but not good enough to be an adoptive mother. Like, why won’t I just be what they need me to be? I haven’t heard anything about any other potential placements and the only viable placement was one I said no to. It has been just about two months and I’m starting to get the itch. I want my phone to ring. I want to hear something, have an interview, something, anything so I feel like I am moving and not just standing still waiting. I mentioned to a foster-to-adopt friend about feeling like the case workers at CHOR don’t care about what I want they just want to fill the need they have in front of them. She understood and said the case worker was probably told to call me and see if she could butter me up and convince me to take the kid as a foster placement. She said it took her and her husband a solid 5-6 months waiting to be placed with the daughter they finally adopted. I did not find this very encouraging. They were a couple waiting that long! Do I have any hope as a single mother? Some days I have to force myself to believe that my child is out there and that I shouldn’t just give up and move on with my life. I mentioned to my friend that I wanted to give up and she said no, think of all the money you spent doing this – to me, this is not a reason to not give up. Besides, I didn’t spend money to be approved to adopt my paperwork was paid for by CHOR because I had a foster care placement at the time. Some days I just wonder if I’m really meant to be a mother. I feel like at every turn there is some impediment to me finally becoming a full-fledged mother, not a wanna-be foster mother. First, there was the issue of uncovering a fertility problem. Then the issue of not being able to pursue a more aggressive infertility treatment followed by a placement that was taken away. And now, here I sit waiting and not getting any real interest in placing a child in my home. I don’t want to admit defeat but I’m getting rather discouraged. I think it’s a good thing we don’t always know where our life’s journey will take us because I think if I had known all the heartache and pain I would have endured on this path, I might have opted out. I don’t let myself think about it, but sometimes I still get flummoxed by how easy it seems for some women to get pregnant and how hard it can be for others who are so desperate to be a mother. I want to stay positive. I want to keep believing that my perfect child is out there and that God has a great big wonderful plan for my life. But, some days are harder than others to truly believe that there is more to life than heartache and pain.  

Would you be a resource?

I feel like history is re-writing itself. Or maybe I'm just on a carousel ride I simply can't get off. I was called for a respite placement this weekend. A 13 year old boy. Forgetting I have my Bible study tomorrow night, I said yes. But, that's not the problem. The problem is that the social worker from CHOR who called me asked me if I would consider being a resource for this kid. That's foster care speak for taking him as a foster care placement. Um, what? Seriously? I mean, did you really just ask me that - to take in a foster care placement when I am finally, finally, finally waiting for my own child with an empty house? When I have two potential placements hanging out, awaiting notice on what has been decided, you ask me to take in a foster care placement? It actually makes me angry. Did I not just get out of a situation where I, through the kindness of my heart, took in two kids for what was supposed to be 6-8 weeks and turned into 9 + months? And, now you ask me to do it again? Do you even give a damn what I want? Or am I just a pawn that you need to slip into place to suit your current needs? When I called back to speak to the case worker, I told her I was totally fine with taking the placement for respite this weekend but I WANT TO ADOPT!!!! Taking in another foster care placement would not allow me to do that. I have one extra bedroom and I am a single person. So, that means once I get a placement I'm not going to be getting calls about other legal risk or adoption placements. Why is this so hard to understand? Right after the last two left I was asked by one of the supervisors if I wanted to get calls for foster placement or just legal risk/adoption. I said I only wanted contact about legal risk or adoption cases. That is it. My wish was granted for roughly 7 weeks and now I'm being asked to take in a child. After I told her that I was waiting for an adoption placement, the case worker told me to see how this weekend goes and to let her know on Monday. As if I had never spoken about not wanting a foster care case. I don't want to get frustrated, but I'm feeling rather like this will just never happen. I will never be able to adopt because I keep getting ensnared in something else. It's like the second I said I would be willing to take in foster care I was stuck with it and not able to escape. Sure, everyone went through the motions of preparing me for adoption, but now that it is the time for an actual placement to become my child, the adoption placement eludes me, it's held just out of my grasp and instead foster care placements are tossed at me like scraps to a whiny dog. Maybe becoming a mother is just futile. Maybe I should just realize it is just never gonna happen for me. What would it take for me to just stop, to give up and just live my solitary life? I mean, I guess I could be a foster mother forever, if I wanted.......

It's Hard

I was emailed about another placement today. Two sisters one older than I had mentioned being interested in adopting, but they are very cute little girls, so I said yes. I’m still waiting to hear about two different sisters that I was emailed about last week more in my comfort zone age-wise. While I find it near impossible to not think about them, I do a fairly good job of not getting my hopes up too high. Many times I say yes and never hear another thing. I want to be patient, to calmly wait for my baby to reach me, but it is hard. It is hard when every night I fall asleep thinking about holding my baby, learning his/her personality and little quirks, of loving him/her so wholly and totally. It’s hard when every time my phone rings at work I answer it hoping to hear “This is So-an-so from CHOR. I have a placement.” It’s hard when I dream about seeing Christmas morning through my baby’s eyes. It’s hard when I go into the extra bedroom and see the empty bed and the empty crib all made up for my baby. It’s hard when a co-worker brings me a bag of kids’ books and says, “I know there are no kids in your house now, but I thought you might like these.” It’s hard when my parents talk about the children who have left and how much they miss them and want to know how they are doing. It’s hard when I see baby pictures plastered all over Facebook. It’s hard when I go home to an empty house every night after work. It’s hard when I wake up thinking I hear a baby crying or calling my name. It’s hard when I have to move the bath toys to take a shower. It’s hard when I have been waiting for nearly 5 years and have endured so much loss in that time. It’s just really, really hard.

 

I want to be enjoying my life. After things went south with my marriage, everything got sucked into the black hole of misery and all I could do was concentrate on surviving. Not to say I was miserable, but my over-all rating of life at the time was rather low, probably the lowest it has ever been in my life. Once the initial excruciating pain subsided I was left with a dull ache and a bitterness in my life. I had survived but my wounds were deep and slow to heal. Mentally, I held onto things, to ideas that I eventually found were holding me back and not letting me truly move on. At some point, I realized just how bad things had been in my marriage before it ended and how I was free from all of that and, most importantly, I was glad to be free. Flaco stopped coming around and I stopped waiting for him to be miserable without me. Sometimes, if I let myself think about it (especially, I let myself think about the monetary issues that Flaco left me and how he now has two cars) I still want to exact my revenge. I wish I believed in karma, but I don’t know that I will get to see him get what is coming to him. If I had the money, I would fight him tooth and nail to pay his portion of the debt he walked away from simply to see justice served (and perhaps to cut off my nose to spite my face….). But, I suppose vengeance is the Lords, so I make myself stop thinking about it. Move on. As I slowly emerged from the pain, other emotions like disappointment and bitterness rushed to fill the void. I fought hard to pull away from those vitriolic emotions, trying to latch onto something good. That something good was the two kids I had living with me and the tiniest possibility that their mother wouldn’t get her act together and they could stay. As it became more evident that the children would be going home, I was again struggling with those twin demons of disappointment and bitterness. I wanted a new placement as a quick fix to squash that uprising within me. But, it’s been nearly two months and I am no closer to becoming a mother than I was last year this time. So, I started the dresser project I had planned over the summer and I’ve been thinking about painting my bedroom (I have lived in my house for 7 years now and have never painted my bedroom. Flaco and I could never agree on a color and when he left I just never got around to it). I need to stay busy. I took a bus trip to NYC with a friend this past weekend and we had a great time. We have plans to go back to see the Rockettes in December. And (drum roll please) I’m kind of seeing someone. We started talking in July while he was away working in another state. Now he is back and we finally met face-to-face. I’m not getting my hopes up and we are taking things glacier slow, but it’s a nice distraction from waiting. Yet, there is still something, a miniscule residual feeling of loss, of missing something. I don’t want to say I could never be happy without having a child, but I think there is always a tiny disquiet piece of me that knows something is missing and that something is a baby. In church on Sunday I mentioned something to the pastor’s wife about waiting for my baby to come and she responded with “Yes, your baby” gesturing in front of her stomach for a round pregnant belly. No, Pastora, that is not what I meant. That ship has sailed and has been lost at sea. Sometimes it makes me angry when she keeps insisting I will be having a biological child. It makes me angry because I have given up on it, moved on. Like letting go of a helium balloon, I let it go and watched it soar and fly away. Only, that sounds too nice and neat and not painful at all. Giving up on the thought of having a biological child ranks right up there with one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. It’s not serenely letting go of a balloon, it’s vicious and messy like cracking your ribs and tearing your own heart from your chest. It’s not something I would ever want to do again and it’s not something I think I could survive a second time. I’m not willing to see another infertility doctor and endure more testing and letting my hopes get me to think that maybe, just maybe…. Only to have reality smash my teeth in and beat me to a blood pulp. No, there is no going back on this one. Do I wish things were different? I sure as hell do, but it is what it is. I was dealt a lousy hand when it comes to fertility and that’s the only hand I get to play. There’s no sense in cursing out the dealer because it won’t change a thing. Even if I were to get married again, I would need to be very clear to my new husband that infertility is an issue and that I am not willing to travel down that wretched rabbit hole again. If, by some ironic miracle we would get pregnant, I would be over-joyed but I won’t pursue it like I did before. Besides, I hope that I will already be a mother by the time I get remarried, so we will have a child or children and could adopt more, if we so choose. I just can’t go through the whole “let’s get pregnant” thing again. It’s a broken part of me that will never be how it was before – the naiveté has worn off and the truth is harsh and unrelenting – it’s not something I can undo no matter how much I wish I could.

 

So, I keep waiting and praying that I will get the call soon. The longer I wait the more apt I am to accept almost any placement I am given – this I have learned about myself. What I hope for and what I pray for is an infant, but that is a pipe dream. I don’t know if it is because I am not directly with a children and youth county agency or if I am single, but I have a very slimmest of slim chance of getting an infant. I said yes to a 7 year old child, which is two years older than I was hoping for, but I think I feel desperate – like I will take what I can get. I guess that’s not the best attitude to have, but I know I have loved every child I have had living in my house from the 10 year old pre-teen to the 10 day old baby. So, I’m sure I can love any child that comes into my home now and becomes my son or daughter. I guess I just have to keep believing that the child who is meant to me mine will find his/her way to me at the right time and it is all in the Almighty’s Hands.      

Baby Shower Blues

I hate baby showers. Hate them. Seriously. But, Saturday afternoon two weeks ago, I found myself attending a baby shower. A friend of mine (former co-worker) was going to be a grandmother again – her son and his wife are expecting. She called me about a month ago to get  my email address to send me the official e-vite with all the pertinent details. Not having any readily available excuses, I RSVP’d I would attend. And then I began dreading the day. I waited until the absolute last minute to go shopping for the event. The party was at noon and I was in Baby’s-R-Us around 11 that same day. I found some small odds and ends, like soap and wash cloths, that would not take me into the world of baby clothes, and bought them quickly. I left the store in a rush, my chest tight and luckily I made it to the car before the tears began to fall. I was mad at myself – this isn’t about me! It’s about the happy expectant couple and the precious little girl they are having. Don’t make it about you. I didn’t really listen to myself. I bundled the items in tissue paper and plopped them in the gift bag, signed the card and cried on my way to the baby shower. I managed to compose myself in the car and walk into the restaurant where the shower was held with dry eyes. I didn’t know anyone, just my friend and her daughter and little granddaughter. I ended up sitting with some cousins and we had a great time joking and carrying on. I left just as the radiant couple began opening gifts. The tightness in my chest had returned and I needed to flee. I cried all the way home and hated myself for it. It’s stupid, it really is. There’s no reason to get so worked up about something that has nothing to do with you. But, it’s just a reminder that there is no need for me to have a baby shower. Yes, I know that some people who adopt have a modified baby shower, but I don’t want that. I don’t. I’m fine if people want to celebrate with me and give gifts for me or the baby, but I don’t want some pathetic excuse for a baby shower – surprise! There’s a kid living with you! Um, no. No thank you. So, on the list of things I won’t ever experience in life, add recipient of a baby shower.

 

The Sunday after the baby shower I was at Walmart getting some Ziploc containers for homemade applesauce that my parents and I were planning to make. I wanted some bubble bath because I like soaking in the warm suds when it is cold outside. Above the grown-up bubble bath was a shelf full of kiddie bubble bath and before I could decide between warm vanilla or soothing lavender, I found myself looking at the fizzy bubble bath and the various shades of crayons to use in the bathtub. The two little kids that left last month were on my mind. They loved the colored soap my mom got them and I thought about how much they would like these crayons to use when taking a bath. I resolved to buy them some and send it to their mom for Christmas. I guess that is silly but I want to do it nonetheless. Facing another childless Christmas, I need to do something to find some holiday cheer. Last year I just wanted to skip the holiday season. I was so miserable and  hurting and I just wanted it to be all over with – I wanted to wake up in the new year. It was salt in the wounds of an unbearable year full of melancholy and injustice. I want this year to be much nicer, in fact I think I will even get a tree this year (assuming I can put it up by myself!). And perhaps I will put up lights and other trappings of joyfulness and cheer. If I have to live a childless life, I need to find a way to live that life to the fullest. I can’t ignore the holidays or any other events in life just because I was hoping to finally  celebrate that event as a mother. And, just like the baby shower, the holidays aren’t about me.  

I Said No

I met with the adoption coordinator this afternoon so I could read over the profile for the little boy I expressed interest in during the matching event. I read all 26 pages but had already made my decision about half-way through. I was not the right fit for this little guy. His story is so sad which makes it understandable that he has behavioral issues, but that combined with his multiple mental health diagnosis makes us incompatible. But the amount of loss this child has endured is just heart-breaking. After I voiced my decision, the adoption case worker informed me she was awaiting a response regarding the other potential placement she had seen at the matching event and she again encouraged me to attend the next matching event next week. She did let me know that she has an intern trolling the SWAN website for potential placements for me (and other potential adoptive families). She assured me that my perfect child is out there and that eventually we shall meet. She said it was good I was open to foster-to-adopt and legal risk placements because that opened up more possibilities. I was glad to hear I was still being considered for legal risk placements because I worried they were only looking at strict adoption placements for me. So, I guess things are just slow with placements at the moment. My wait continues.....

Finally Some Referrals

Finally! I have finally gotten a referral that sounds pretty darn perfect for me – although, it’s far from being a done deal. I had found a three potential little boys that I was interested in from the matching event this past weekend. One response, for a baby with medical issues, was that they needed to place him with a family where there is one stay-at-home parent with some medical knowledge – so, not me. The other little boy is actually a child with CHOR through another agency (this can get quite confusing) and I am supposed to visit the adoption coordinator to talk about him tomorrow. She had also sent me a flier regarding two little girls she had seen at the event, that I had somehow missed. This is the one I am more excited about. The girls are just so darn cute in the photo and their behavioral issues are certainly something I have encountered before. The adoption coordinator will contact the agency about them and let me know, so of course I am not holding my breath! I was getting pretty worried not hearing a thing for over a month (other than the rash of calls for respite weekend placements). I don’t want to get discouraged, I want to remain strong in my faith that my perfect child is out there for me (not saying the child is perfect but that our match is perfect, we fit together). I need to be patient, something I don’t always find easy to do. I want to believe that there are plenty of agency case workers out there who can see the merit in placing a child in my home, but I fear that the majority of them are more old-fashioned and would much rather see a child in a two-parent home. I rag on myself constantly about the decision I made to forge ahead as a single woman and adopt a child now, rather than wait until I’m remarried or very near to it. I don’t know why I can’t just give up on my desire to be a mother and perhaps I am past the point of no return. Now I have tunnel vision – all I can see is the baby at the end of the tunnel, I see nothing on my left and nothing on my right, my eyes are fixed on the goal. Every night I go to bed dreaming of my baby, a precious tiny newborn wrapped in warm blankets making those precious mewling newborn noises. I so poignantly remember last November when I did have that precious baby and her older sisters and I miss them so terribly. I know it’s not nice to choose favorites, but if I had to, those three would be my favorite placement to date; not that I didn’t love all the children I have taken care of, but there was just something special about the three of them…. I think of them and my heart aches. But, I think this is my hearts’ permanent condition, like a bum knee aching before the rain. So, I soldier on, I wait as patiently as possible, and I pray that everything works out just as it is supposed to work out……

Matching

I went to a matching event this afternoon. As a matter of course, I don't particularly enjoy matching events. This was the third one I've been to and I have felt equally as awkward and hopeless at each one. Matching events are more directed towards finding homes for older children. And sometimes, like today, the children are there to meet people who are hoping to adopt. Today I noticed some children that I have seen on the PA SWAN website for children needing homes. That was odd and disconcerting - seeing them as real, living, breathing children in the flesh. They were mostly teenagers. As much as it breaks my heart to think how much they just want a family to pick them, to love them, I cannot consider adopting and older child. I would never feel like a mother, just a big sister. I guess I'm just justifying my feelings of inadequacies. More than anything I desperately want to adopt a baby, an infant. I feel like it is a futile wish, a pipe dream, something I don't deserve because I'm not good enough to have working lady parts so why should I get a baby.... Yeah, that's how it feels.....

So, I did find a few potential little ones that I brought to the attention of the CHOR representatives that were at the matching event. They will follow up on my behalf and let me know where things stand later this week. I'm not holding my breath. Both are little boys and both have moderate health issues that will most likely require continued support services. I'm just anxious to get my baby! At least going to the matching event made me feel like I was doing something. I would hate to say that it was a waste, but I certainly didn't feel like I achieved anything..... Hopefully that call will come soon!

Ring Phone Ring!

My phone is still not ringing. I know I should be more patient, but I guess I’m just not. Thus far, I have gotten one email about a child I could not consider adopting due to overwhelming medical conditions. Last week was total radio silence; I didn’t even get a call for a respite placement over the weekend. I used the time to get the house in tip-top shape. My house can now pass the white glove test, all floors have been scrubbed on my hands and knees, all cobwebs wiped from the corners of the ceilings, all dust bunnies corralled and eliminated from behind the furniture, carpets spot washed, bedding changed – I have never been more ready! And yet my phone is not ringing. At church one of the parishioners who works in the foster-adoption field told me about a child he is going to be doing a CSR (child specific recruitment) to find an adoptive home. The baby has some medical issues, which he thought we a lot more intense, but discovered they are more on the moderate side. We talked about me being a potential for this little one, but he is still trying to get more of a handle on the medical condition for the baby. He will let me know more, if/when he can. He did invite me to a matching event this coming Saturday. If I don’t have a respite placement, I think I might go. I don’t love going to matching events because I find them to be a meat-market for the older kids, but it doesn’t hurt to get some exposure I suppose.

 

The past few nights I have been dreaming about the three girls I had last year around this time (they came November 2^nd). Mostly, I dream about the baby, how it was to hold her and cuddle with her, to wake up at night to feed her, to bathe her, to changer her tiny diaper. I cherished every moment and wish so much that our time had not been cut so short. I miss the older girls too, they were so funny and full of life. I wish I could have kept them! I wish they didn’t have to go, I would have been quite content to keep them and make them mine! But, alas, it was not meant to be! The baby turned a year old last Thursday and I probably wouldn’t even recognize her now. All I have are my memories of her, how much I loved giving her a bath and then cuddling with the sweet-smelling little baby. I loved slathering her in baby lotion and wrapping her in a fresh clean blanket. My hope and my prayer is that I will get this chance again, to have a tiny little baby to love all over. It might be foolish to believe I would get an infant placement, but I just can’t help myself. I want nothing more than just one more hug, one more snuggle, just one more little baby grin, one more kiss on a soft baby cheek……

 

I just need to be patient. I need to wait for God’s timing, to get the call for the placement. But, I am impatient – who wouldn’t be after 5 years of waiting? And loss and disappointment? Who wouldn’t be like, “Come on!” I have cleared so many hurdles and have endured a lot of heartache, I just want to see that it has all been worth it, that the outcome was worth everything that has happened, worth everything I have done, every sacrifice I have made. I am growing impatient. I want to be *doing* something, not just sitting around waiting for my phone to ring, waiting for someone else to do something for me – I want to be proactive, but there really isn’t a way for me to do that ….. I can’t really do anything to affect a more rapid outcome, I just need to wait, pause, suspend animation, chill, and hope expectantly for the best. When I was visiting my parents this weekend my mom mentioned that there is some kiddie movie coming out and “we” need to get a kid so “we” have a valid reason to go see this movie. She is impatient too. It’s just time. It’s time for the good stuff to start happening, to shake off the specter of bad that has been over-shadowing my life and their lives and for the sun to shine brightly upon us. Fate has been cruel these past couple of years and it is time for a recompense for the ills that have befallen me. Isn’t it? Isn’t it time to savor the good and beauty of life, to revel and be giddy in my good fortune? Have I not proven myself worthy? Have I not shown my strength and endurance and my ability to get knocked down only to get right back up and continue? My faith has been tested and has not been found wanting; I stared into the depths of despair and, unblinking, found hope and the courage to survive. I have trudged through the valley and I am now on the other side waiting for my due return. It’s time. It is time. Ring phone, ring!  

Just Waiting.....

I’m getting nervous that I haven’t gotten any calls regarding a placement. Today marks three weeks. I had another respite this past weekend. A young boy who was so full of energy and vigor he just never sat still. It took all my creative inventions to keep him busy and not drive me insane. We played at the playground, kicked around a soccer ball, threw a football, carved a pumpkin and then roasted the seeds to eat and watched a movie – this was Saturday! Although my parents were not home, on Sunday I took him to the farm after church so he could run, just run and run and run. He made friends with a little black barn kitten, whom he named Midnight. The kitten is super-friendly and wanted nothing more than a cuddle buddy and playmate. The boy fed the kitten scraps of lunch meat and gave it kisses, rubbed its belly and chased it around the yard. I was supposed to have this boys sisters for the weekend but at the last minute the plans changed. I’ve had baby boys before but never a child and it was interesting. It felt strange at first – what do I do with a 7 year old boy? But, as explained above, I found things for us to do. And I was exhausted from the experience! Yesterday it was the baby’s second birthday. I text “happy birthday” to his mother. Oh! That’s right! I forgot to mention that the kid’s mother text me last Friday, sweet as pie, looking for the doctor’s office information. I text it back to her and asked how the kids are doing. She said I could call or text anytime I like and the kids are doing great. She was more than happy to brag about them, about how good they are doing, and even sent me 4 pictures of the kids. I will take what I can get! Sure, it could be all lies, but having even a tenuous connection and glimpse into their lives is better than nothing at all!

 

I am trying to enjoy my life as is, rather than holding back until my baby comes. It sounds so simple in black and white, but it is not that easy. Anyone who waited, even a short period of time, while trying to have a baby can attest to the fact that it can be all-consuming if you let it be (even without you realizing it has happened). For a good chunk of the past 5 years, trying to have or adopt a baby has consumed me. I think about babies, I dream about becoming a mother, I see babies and children all around me and think of how dam lucky their parents are to have them. I avoid baby sections at the stores, detest even driving past Baby’s R Us, and try to play nice with pregnant friends and co-workers, all the while hurting inside. I’ve attended baby showers and even co-hosted one, hating every minute of it – especially after the infertility diagnosis. I know I should just separate myself from them and revel in their joy, but I haven’t come quite that far yet. A friend just invited me to her daughter-in-laws baby shower in November and I gritted my teeth and accepted the invitation, already dreading the event. Why go if I dread it so? For my friend. This will be her third grandchild and her son’s first. Unfortunately, she lost her job where I work due to the sequestration several months ago and I haven’t seen her much and would like to stay in-touch. So, I will go. I will hold my breath and try not to suffocate at all the ooo’s and ahhh’s and the tummy rubbing and glowing. And I will probably cry all the way home. Dam you infertility! I cannot let infertility dictate my life and rob me of all joy. I need to embrace my life because it is mine and if I reject it, it is like rejecting myself, relegating myself as a total lost cause and that I am not. I’ve come too far to give up now. I’ve endured too much to finish empty-handed. Chin up, shoulder’s back, march forward, on ward, don’t stop and don’t look back.     

1757 days and counting

You know that old saying, “Be careful what you wish for because you just might get it?” Well, I had wished for respite placements to keep me busy while I wait for my baby to come and I’m getting just what I had wished for in spades. I had a very nice 16 year old girl the first weekend and had a wonderful time with her and was sad to see her go. This past weekend I had a young adult and we had a nice time but she was a little more sullen and we didn’t quite click the way I did with the first girl. Now, I am getting a pre-teen and her 4 year old sister for the weekend. I really don’t mind getting all these respite cases for the weekend, it’s certainly nice to have someone to pass the time with (although I have been very busy the past two weekends with outings and what not), but I just wish I were getting calls about placements. To date (and it has only been two weeks) I have gotten one email about a toddler that I wouldn’t be able to take due to medical and behavioral complications. I didn’t expect my phone to be ringing off the hook, but I was hoping for a little something here and there. Although, getting calls can mean just as much anguish as not getting calls – if I get a call and the placement doesn’t pan out I am incredibly disappointed. I got very excited today when I got the respite call because I was away from my desk at work so they called my cell and I thought it was “the” call. It wasn’t. My friend who is a foster-to-adopt parent said the agency gets a lot of calls when the weather turns cooler because that is when they find a lot of kids living without heat and other necessities. It hasn’t gotten very cold yet, no frost, so perhaps when it does get cold I will start getting calls. Before I fell asleep last night I had this thought that it might take a long time for my baby to come and I just felt deep down that I should be prepared to be waiting for a long time. When I was driving home with the girl I had this past weekend I mentioned wanting to adopt to answer a question she had asked me. She told me, “I see a baby coming to you. I do, I see a baby coming your way.” I took her words as prophetic – it must become true! My heart and my mind has latched onto getting an infant, a tiny little bundle of joy – I want so badly for that to be true that I almost feel I can make it happen by sheer willpower. I know that sounds crazy. It is crazy. I am crazy. I caught myself talking to myself in the shower the other night. Just some random flow of consciousness conversation. When I realized what I was doing I got mad at myself. I don’t want to be *that* person who lives alone so they talk to themselves for something to do. But, I fear one of the side effects of this journey I have been on for so long is that I am so wrapped up in my own world that I forget other people and other things.

 

Here is an example: I was supposed to go visit a friend for an annual get-together she usually hosts with her husband around Thanksgiving. They are expecting their second child so they held it earlier this year, in October. I had every intention of going….. Ok, I wanted to go but the more I thought about the last time I went when she was pregnant and how I barely held back my tears and cried most of the way home, I kind of didn’t want to go through that again. I think subconsciously I put it out of my mind or purposefully sabotaged the date in my mind. The shindig was this past weekend, but I thought it was this coming weekend. I’m a terrible friend. I let my own shit get in the way of celebrating their happiness. It took them longer than they expected to have this second baby and they endured a loss in between – this pregnancy is  their little miracle. They are good people and wonderful parents and deserve every joy they desire. But, I’m just stupid little me sticking my head in the sand because they have two and I still have none. It’s pretty pathetic, when we take out our heart and truly examine it and find that it is wanting. The hole in my heart that started out a tiny tear has torn bigger and bigger until it has shredded my heart to the point I fear there is nothing left to give. Like Gollum, I clutch the idea of my baby to my heart and cry out, “My precious!” desperately loving the very thing that is killing me. How do I make it stop? I can’t. I won’t. Not until I have “it” again – my precious…… I’m being overly dramatic. But, I do tend to get wrapped up in me and forget about other things. And despite it happening so many, many times in the past 4 ½ years, I still get all stupid and withdrawn around pregnant women. I don’t want to be that way, but I just don’t trust myself to not start sobbing as they rub their swollen tummy’s and glow the glow of motherhood. Why must I act this way? I should be over this by now, right?! I mean, come on, it’s been how long? And, since I’m not having sex with anyone, it would be downright impossible for me to be pregnant anyway…. Yesterday a woman at work had her first child – a boy they named Julian. I smiled and gushed appropriately on the outside and then when no one was watching I took a deep breath to fight back the tears of my own bitter disappointment. I used to keep track of how many babies were born while I was trying to get pregnant. I guess I just liked to torture myself with such stupid trivia. I lost count after 25 (this includes acquaintances and people that have had more than one baby in the time it has taken me to  get just one). I have been trying to become a mother for 1757 days, that’s 4 years and 9 months, 251 weeks (enough time for 6 back-to-back 40 week pregnancies). And there is no end in sight….. I mean, yes I am approved to adopt all by myself but does that mean I will be able to adopt all by myself? I spend too much time thinking about a baby and dreaming about a baby and seeing tiny babies all around me and my heart just weeps. How do I get out of my own imprisoned world? How do I get over myself and get over all these stupid hang-ups and just GET OVER IT? How do I accept the life I have instead of mourn the life I wanted?

Nesting

I’m nesting. That is what I decided last night when I was on my hands and knees ferociously scrubbing the kitchen floor after thoroughly scrubbing the floor in the baby room, including under and behind the bed and crib. I have this insatiable need to get things in order, to be prepared with a clean and orderly house and all baby paraphernalia in its place. Although I have never been pregnant, I imagine I would be doing this type of thing as my due date loomed ever closer. I’m sure I would be fluffing pillows, washing receiving blankets, checking the stock of diaper rash cream, baby Tylenol, wipes, bottles, and making up the crib with fresh clean sheets, etc. In another life, this is how I envisioned the whole turn of events. So, I guess it makes sense that I am doing all of that minus the baby bump because I am expecting a baby; I don’t know when, I don’t know how (the circumstances surrounding how the baby gets to me), but nonetheless, I am expecting a baby and therefore I must be prepared. I’m stripping my cloth diapers so they will be nice and tidy. Last night I finished cleaning and organizing the baby room, so the floor (before Flaco left he ripped out the rug and put in a faux wood floor, so I wash it by hand or, mostly, with the steam cleaner) is washed, including under and behind the crib and behind the bed. The bed and crib have fresh new sheets and I washed the comforter and throw pillows and extra blankets too. I organized all the baby and toddler clothing, so it is easier to find whatever I might need. The kitchen floor is clean, although I still need to clean out the kitchen cabinets and throw stuff away or donate unused items. Then the bathroom and living room are on my agenda with my bedroom (as always) last to get this frenetic cleaning and purging. If I get all this done and still have no child in my home, I think I will turn my attention to the closets followed by the basement. Too bad this nesting thing doesn’t come along more often! And what is so strange to me is that I did not feel this way before the first placement. Maybe I didn’t really believe it would happen, that we would get a placement. Maybe I didn’t prepare like this because I didn’t know how (first time moms might prepare less than second time moms because they don’t really know what to expect or really know what they will need? – just a theory…).  Perhaps there was something in my psyche that told me it just wasn’t going to happen – a premonition for what was to come? Regardless, I never felt the need to knuckle down and get everything prepared as I do now. I just want to be able to say “Yes!” and not think in the back of my mind, “Ugh! But, I need to do this and clean that and this thing really isn’t ready…..” I want to say “Yes!” and then throw open my doors and welcome in my baby and anyone else completely unabashed and uninhibited – anyone and everyone can waltz through my house and I will not be cringing and hoping they don’t see that stray dust bunny in the corner or that smear of something on the kitchen floor. So, I will spend more time tonight getting the house neat and tidy, ready to pass the white glove test! Nesting, adoption style! 

Musings

Every night I go to bed thinking my phone will ring and every morning I wake up expecting my phone to ring sometime that day. Yesterday I received an email from the adoption case worker at CHOR. It was for a little boy the same age as the little boy who just left my home. But, this little boy has a lot of medical issues that I don’t think I would be able to handle as a single working parent. I said I had some reservations and wanted to know more about treatment plans and prognosis before committing to this placement. The more I think about it, the less prepared I feel to deal with all the complications. So, back to waiting for the phone to ring (or for an email, apparently). I’m trying to stay as busy as possible to keep my mind off of the wait. And of course, I have given myself a new level of complications with my schedule – I begin my writing course this Thursday. I guess the baby-sitter could keep the baby longer on Thursday’s. I kind of felt discouraged with her when she kept the baby for me overnight a few weeks ago – in addition to the respite payment she would receive she wanted $25 for keeping him. She had him from roughly 6:30 Friday evening until 9:30 Saturday morning – he was awake for about four of those hours and I gave him dinner, so…… I don’t mind paying my fair share, but I felt like she was nickel and diming me which I hate. Couple this with her not paying me the full price for some products she bought from me (the cost, including tax was $42 and change, she gave me $40 and called it even Stevens…..). I don’t want to be that person – the overly sensitive person who takes everything as a personal affront – but it bugs me. I loved my old baby-sitter but she is so far away it is rather impractical to haul kids back and forth from her place. And, I was under the impression that the first baby-sitter I ever had was not doing foster care anymore until I saw her at training a few weeks ago. I wish I could find a place close that I like (the most recent baby-sitter didn’t have much structure to her daycare and there was always a lot of comings and goings with her adult children and extended family and friends), that provides a good structured day care, doesn’t cost an arm and a leg and where I feel totally comfortable. A friend I work with has a daycare (she is co-owner with her sister and so has a full-time job in addition to the daycare) and I really like the programming they incorporate, but it’s not practical with fostering because of the need for so many people to have access to the child(ren) – therapists, case workers, drivers for visits (this would be my choice for my child to attend and once they are mine, I will move them to this daycare). The writing course is only for 8 weeks, so I can suck it up and do what needs to be done. I am really hoping I can talk my parents into getting a background check so they could keep the baby from time to time. I want my child to have the great relationship with their grandparents like I did with mine – well, my dad’s parents anyway. My parents never had a baby-sitter for us, we always stayed with my grandparents because they wanted to keep us and because we wanted to be with them. I want the same for my child and my parents. I think that grandparents can offer so much to their grandchildren and, if my child ever feels they cannot talk to me about something, I would hope they could feel they could take it to their grandparents. I know I talked to my grandparents about my parents and they would help give me perspective – never in a judgmental way, just by listening and then telling me a story about my dad doing something similar. Of course, there were times we would run off to my grandparents’ house because it was also on the farm, down the hill from my parents’ house. I didn’t know it at the time, but I know now that my mom would call my grandmother and warn her that we were on our way and my grandmother would always welcome us with open arms. I have so many wonderful memories growing up and spending time with my grandparents and I really hope my child(ren) can have something similar with my parents – and I think my parents are really looking forward to that too. So, they should be able to start that relationship once my child is placed in my home. I just have to get them to see it this way. Right now, all they see is the pain. They still mourn the loss of the girls I had last November and my mom laments not having a way to know how the most recent two are doing and adjusting. I know they worry that keeping the child for me on some occasions will only cause them further pain should something happen and the child not become mine permanently. Trust me, I know this anguish all too well. But, why wait a year or more for all the paperwork and legal stuff to filter through the system before finally getting to be the grandparents they want to be? Maybe I will ask them to do it as their Christmas present to me? I don’t want to coerce them, I want them to do it because they want to…..  

 

I check the SWAN website regularly, ok daily (this is the website for Pennsylvania kids waiting to be adopted), but most of the children are older than 5. Children younger than 5 are usually with a sibling group and I am only approved for a small same sex sibling group due to the space constraints in my house. So, that is usually a bust for me. I wish  there were more I could do, to find my own child. But, I am pretty much stuck waiting for a system I mistrust to send a child my way. With the email I received yesterday, I even wonder about the process they use. Clearly, I am not the best fit for that little boy. He needs a parent(s) more able to spend a lot of time with him and to be able to deal with his medical issues. It would such a stressful situation to have him with me, trying to balance work and his needs. If I can see that in an email, why can’t CHOR see that too? I kind of get the feeling they just throw everything at me to see what sticks….. I guess that isn’t fair because I am sure they have a process they must go through and I am also sure they want to be able to satisfy my needs while keeping the child’s needs at the forefront. They are looking for the best home for the child – maybe they felt the individual attention the little guy would get with me would be the best situation for him. I don’t know. I just need to be patient. I know my baby is coming, I just need to hang in there until he/she is here.

 

As part of a massive clothing purge, I went through all the clothing I have for a child in my home. I now have it all in Rubbermaid containers under my bed, rather than all over the place. I have newborn clothing right through 6 T, for boys and for girls. While I was folding the baby clothing and tucking it away, I prayed I would have a reason to dig it out again soon and put it to use. I remembered the precious baby who wore some of those tiny clothes and I wished to have her back in my arms. Oh how my heart longs for a baby! I think of all the tears I have shed since deciding to start the journey into motherhood. If I had saved every one, I am sure I could fill a swimming pool with them! At this point, it feels like infertility is all I know. I recently read a story about a couple from San Francisco who paid an Indian woman to be their surrogate, using their genetic material. The article was critical of a wealthy American couple “buying” a baby regardless of the repercussions for the surrogate woman. I don’t want to get into the ethical debate about it, I just mention this article because the husband was quoted as saying “It just isn’t fair that other couples can have a baby just by having sex.” No matter how you feel about surrogates, adoption, etc. you have to agree that what this man says is right – it just isn’t fair. Why do some people, desperate to be parents, have to endure so much to become parents? Should infertile people just accept the luck of the draw and submit to the hand genetics dealt them? Because I like to torture myself, I have read some very negative blogs about adoption and I would ask them what they think should be done with the children born to people not willing or able to be parents? In my heart of hearts I know I am supposed to be a mother. Why this desire has caused me so much heartache and disappointment, I do not know. But I don’t think I could ever stop striving to become a mother once I started. I know some people do; my mom’s best friend (I call her my aunt) never became a mother although she wanted to and she would have been a good mother. I just don’t know how to stop until I attain my goal – a baby. People have commented to me, why not wait until you find a Mr. before adopting. Why? Why should I wait to find Mr. Right (who might not exist) and be sure he also wants to adopt and be sure he gets the whole infertility thing and that he’s not going to turn tail and run, leaving me hanging again? Legally, I don’t need a Mr. to adopt. And, having my own child before jumping into the dating pool takes some pressure off of it for me. I don’t have to quickly find Mr. Right so I can adopt. I don’t know. I feel like I am the only person in the world doing this thing my own way, like I’m just some little nut-job bouncing along my own path listening to my own music, coloring outside the lines and always just missing the mark, always a day late and a dollar short. I don’t want to get discouraged. I have done so much to make this work out, I am nearing the end, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel – I just need to hold on a little bit longer until I am through it all to the other side.