I think of myself as someone who respects the decisions other adults make for their own lives. Unless it is something detrimental to family/friends or society at large, I celebrate the differences between us all because that is what makes life interesting and it’s what makes this world go ‘round. If we all wanted to be bakers, drive a Chevy, and live in the Adirondacks, think what a mess things would be! Yet, I find that if a person knows you and has ideas for themselves and their lives that are diametrically opposed to a decision you have made, well then it’s like you just grew two heads and one has a big green boogie hanging out of its nose. My birthday was yesterday – 29 again! I thought I would be more okay with this birthday given my distress about last year’s milestone – I am not. I decided to stay busy this birthday to lessen the blow. I went to visit a college roommate and my sister in Virginia and DC. I cyber stalk my former college roommate on Facebook and so have a Cliff’s Notes version of what is going on, but it was nice to catch up and reminisce at the same time. This friend has almost completed the divorce process – she would be totally finished if her attorney had not dropped the ball in a legal epic fail. She had been married just as long as I had (they got married a few days after us) but she had been with her ex since freshman year in college. That’s 12 years, if you believe my math. So, we are kind of dealing with the same thing, but she was the leave-er and I am the leave-ee in our given situations. Call it small potatoes, but to me it means a lot. Making the decision yourself is hard, very hard. But, still you made the decision. The decision was made for me. The loss of control over an integral part of your own life is quite disturbing, as if your left arm suddenly decided to operate of its own accord without input from your brain. It’s jolting, sickening, and I don’t recommend it. Regardless of the minuscule differences, we are both uncomfortably sitting in the “newly single and 30” boat. Trust me, there are not hoards of people clamoring to join our ranks. The topic of my odd arrangement of living with a foster child came up. Having endured an especially hard week with the child, I vented a little and explained the situation in gory detail. My friend had been up to visit me when I still had the baby, so she knew of the outcome of my first round in foster mothering. Given the second, grueling round, she seemed to assume I was done and would happily slip back into the land of singleness and throw myself into my work/career. Perhaps I should do that….. I have daydreamed about signing up to get certified to teach English as a Second Language overseas – heading to Asia and starting a new life. But, I don’t really want that anymore than I want to be the ex-Mrs. I would feel even more alone, more lost and without an anchor. I have never been terribly career-oriented. I want a decent job, but I also want a job that does not rob me of a life outside of work. Having a family is more important to me. Being connected to people I love and who are important to me is what I value. Work is work. Just like doing laundry or washing dishes – it must be done as a part of life.
I spent Saturday and Sunday morning with my friend, then I went to spend time with my sister. She had an itinerary planned for my visit, which included a brief boat tour/cruise on the Potomac, a birthday party (with her friends), and a trip to a museum or two. She asked about the foster child and I explained that the child would be leaving next week, that I had asked to have her placed somewhere else. My sister applauded the decision and wondered what would be next for me – a boyfriend? Move to a new city? Find a new job? I explained I planned to take in another child and she questioned my sanity. Two failures are not enough? After facing my friends incredulous “Really?!” response to the announcement that I planned to adopt, I simply didn’t have the energy to tell my sister the same. I changed the subject and she never brought it up again.
I am secure in my decision. I know what I want. But, when someone close to you questions a decision – one so fraught with personal strife no less – it stings a bit. It seems, in the wake of the feminine movement, the desire to be a mother has been relegated to the dark ages of a woman’s worth being based on her ability to procreate. A newly single woman of my age should be out living the dream – meeting exciting Dos XX’s men, traveling around the world, getting in touch with herself, and forgetting all about the barrenness of her womb. Adopting? Ludicrous! Why on earth would you want to take care of another human being if you don’t have to? Babies? They bog you down! Being unprepared to expound on my decision, I feebly expressed my desire to be a mother. In the end of December 2008, when we threw away the birth control pills and began our descension into infertility hell, it was the beginning of a journey which could only end in me becoming a mother. I don’t know how to turn around on this path, I have not found a u-turn. The alternative of giving up, dating until I find someone else, and starting infertility treatments again gives me vertigo. It’s unfathomable and would be the final crushing blow to my already fragile psyche. I need this scrap, this shadowy glimmer, this infinitesimal speck of hope. I realize it is non-traditional. I know it seems crazy from the outside looking in. As much as I enjoy tradition, it sometimes doesn’t work for me. And crazy? Crazy is walking away from a 6 year relationship because you don’t like having someone tell you what to do. Crazy is ripping a baby away from a healthy, loving home. Crazy is watching your world crumble and being utterly powerless to stop it. Crazy, I can do.
If nothing else I am stubborn. It has been by sheer power of will that I have not melted under the inferno of pain this past year. I haven’t fallen to total pieces because I refuse to. If you don’t know me, you will not see even the slightest chink in my armor. The morning after the end of my world as I know it, I was at work, taking care of business. Not once have my co-workers been privy to my inner pain. And they will not. Only my parents have witnessed the completely brokenness of my heart and soul, that dangerous dip into insanity. Only the closest friends have seen the mask slip slightly. By my determination to NOT let “this” destroy me, it has not. The searing pain corrodes my insides, but most of the time I look like the same bubbly, happy, lovin-life gal on the outside. I guess, I find comfort in the supportive comments on this blog because, for the most part, those who stumble upon this blog have or are dealing with infertility issues and they can understand that burning desire to be a mother. Perhaps it is not fair to expect someone who does not have that desire to understand. My roommate from college always declared she never wanted children. She is still not sure she does, although she has admitted (after 12 years of denial) she was mostly so adamantly opposed because her ex had pretty significant genetic health issues and she was too terrified to spin the wheel of genetics to see if their genes would result in a healthy or unhealthy child. My sister is 5 years younger than me and she is very dedicated to her job and the career path she has chosen. She is not yet willing to allow motherhood to derail or even slow her progression. When I was a child I had said I wanted to be a mother when I grew up. It was only when I truly understood the question meant what occupation did I want, that my answer changed (it was veterinarian btw – until I interned in high school and hated it).
I guess I wrote this entire entry as a justification, but really it is just to solidify my decision. My decision. My own decision. My only fear is that God, having declared my ability to have a biological child null and void, will determine motherhood is never to be an option for me and for whatever reason I will be denied a child forevermore. But, I pray this is not the case. Surely, if this desire lives inside my heart and the loss and pain I have experienced this year has not quenched it, then it must be something God too desires for me. I try not to get my mind too tangled up in this thought process. I met with the pastor of my church and his wife last week because I have become the de facto Sunday school teacher/leader. They expressed their desire for me to take on more of the roll of leader. During our meeting, I had the realization that I have always worked with children one way or another. I baby-sat extensively in high school, helping develop and direct the children’s program for a MOPS (mothers of preschoolers) program, taking my turn as childcare volunteer in the church, and helping younger kids in 4-H. In college I volunteered at several programs working with children in a day care and after school program, and became a Big Sister (I wasn’t very good at it since I didn’t really have enough time to dedicate to the girl and we really didn’t mesh well). In the Peace Corps my house was always loaded with neighborhood children. A day did not go by that the children didn’t come over to play or learn about baking or just hang out on my hammock. Even when I came back from the Peace Corps, I took a job as the assistant director for the children’s ministry at Motivated Moms, a non-profit that taught ESL to local women and men and provided childcare while the parents were in class. I love all the little kids in my Sunday school class and I am excited to be able to help teach them and move into my new position as leader of Sunday school teachers. But, I digress…….
I guess, what I can say in closing, is that I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I am of sound mind, I am only the good kind of crazy, and I am willing to accept that this is not a simple thing that I am about to do. As per my first paragraph, my decision has no negative ramifications to those who love me. If anything, it is something that will help me heal. Finally becoming a mother, after such an epic struggle, will be a balm to soothe my aching soul. I am not delusional, I know that being a single mother is not easy. I have been living with an incredibly difficult child for 5 months now and by all accounts, I have done quite well despite the insurmountable behavioral issues. So, my choice is not one generally made. But, sometimes you just gotta dance to your own music, even if no one but you can hear it.