When Does it Get Easier?

I have been asked this question time and again...I thought I knew the answer, it gets easier with time and (for me) a proper diagnosis. However, lately with a surge of Holiday Pregnancy Posts on Facebook and Twitter I find myself with a twinge of jealousy. Please don't take this wrong, I rejoice with every friend who posts about their beautiful little blessing. I celebrate with them all, because lets be honest  PREGNANCY IS A MIRACLE. 
I have friends who have come to me in the past couple of years and admitted their struggle with conception, and I can HAPPILY say that they have nearly ALL conceived as of this point. Some took SEVERAL years, some a year, and others six months. Each had the same reality I have, the same fears, and the same level of jealousy over others announcements. In that way, we are all sisters.
Recently I joined a page on Facebook called RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association. Through this page I have seen several posts asking about coping with infertility. Today, they asked "What ways can you help make the journey easier for the next person diagnosed with infertility?" This struck me today, so much so that I am OUT of bed at 1am typing this.
 I want to be honest with you. I am not healed 100%. I have MANY good days and a few bad days. Yes, it gets better. I do still sob uncontrollably when my hopes have been dashed (whether it is after missing a period for 30 days, which I did two months ago (darned medication and stress) or its not being able to adopt again for a while (another post for another day)). Thankfully, I have moved on from being immobilized to my bed for 24 hours at a time (but who knows, that may just happen to me again next week).
What I am doing is living. I have a husband who supports me. Who may have left me by now if he were a weaker man, but is strong enough to hold me as I fall apart. I have a beautiful little boy through the miracle of adoption. They both need me to live. They need me to support them as much as they support me. They need me to love them as much as they love me.
What I am getting around to saying is that it is OKAY TO BE JEALOUS. It's okay to cry. It's okay to grieve. These are normal and natural responses to infertility and will not go away over night. What is NOT OKAY is to wallow in it for as long as I did. I know that I lost a few years in my grief, gone, poof! We must all learn to LIVE. We must all learn to SUPPORT. We must all learn to LOVE. We must all learn to be HAPPY. We must all learn to CELEBRATE. And yes, I believe we must all have FAITH.
These are things that make us human and these are things that carry us on.

"Dream until your dream comes true."

-Aerosmith 

A Day of Highs and Lows

 March 1, 2010 was a rather emotional day for us. This was the day that we got our call confirming that we would be adopting our son. That he would be joining us forever in a matter of days (technically a week). We finally got our gift. The child that we desired for so long. We were going to be a FOREVER FAMILY. See this was the high of the day. The ray of sunshine on a day that was also filled with grief.
 As I have mentioned, we have LOVED every child that has been in our home. This was also the day we said good-bye to our first foster baby. He left our home to be reunited with a relative. A couple who truly love him. A couple who cares for him 100% and gives him everything a little boy needs.
 We packed him into the agency van and said good-bye. I wish we had done this differently. We should have taken him to the office ourselves, met his family, shared with them face-to-face, and said our good-byes. Instead a van came to our home, we loaded his belongings, placed him in a car seat, and kissed him good-bye. I had already e-mailed them his schedule, his likes/dislikes, and the signs he used to communicate with us so that they would be prepared for his arrival. What I wasn't prepared for was his face. I will never forget his face as he realized all his belongings were with him in that van. The look of confusion and hurt. I couldn't handle being with him. I ran. I sobbed. I grieved the loss of him.
  As much as I resent the agency for screwing up what should have been the most joyful moment of my life, I am also thankful. As I mentioned our son came home within a few days (we had a planned "respite" visit for him with us). I redecorated the nursery, set up a toddler bed (we agreed with his foster family to transition him to a bed during the transition to our home to make it less painful). We were able to essentially fill our home with our child and focus 100% on him. In hindsight, I see a blessing in disguise.
  I still miss our first baby. He is special and he is being raised by special people who share stories, updates, and photos with us. In turn, I share stories back about our son. Who is also special, and the best gift we've ever gotten.

The Blessings of Being Foster Parents

There is so much good that I can say about our experience as foster parents. We had five beautiful infants and children. They ranged in age from two weeks to two years when they arrived with us. They were each special, and each face is framed in a collage frame on our bedroom wall so that we can pray for them nightly.  

We have fun memories of taking them for their first swim, their first 18 hour road-trip (okay for some this was NOT fun, but still fond memories), first plane ride, first train ride, first vacation, first words, first steps, and first birthdays. One we have his photo of the trip home from the hospital. Another his first time seeing a horse. I have fond memories of a pretty little girl who enthusiastically yelled “YES!” and headed to the door when I asked if she wanted to go shopping. This same princess also picked out her own clothes, I have yet to mother another with such distinct style opinions. I also have pictures of first black-eyes and stitches (thanks to our son and a die-cast train).

These children conditioned and trained us as new parents. They gave us experiences that we might not have had otherwise, like the joy of waking several times a night to feed a newborn or the time you rush in at 2am to lift a crying 15 month old from a crib and have him vomit down your back only to realize he also vomited in his crib. Or the baby who climbs EVERYTHING, who requires you to be in the hallway to remind him to go to bed and not climb out of his crib. I also practiced my pig-tail and braid skills on a couple of princesses.

You see these are unique experiences that we did not have with our son. Things that we would have “missed out on” had we not fostered. Don't misunderstand, we have just as many (probably more) beautiful memories with our son, and so many more to come.

Each was a true blessing to our family, and these stories represent just a fraction of the joy they brought to our lives. Yes, loving kids was the best part of being foster parents. I cannot complain even a moment about them, they were all a gift. I would never trade these memories, or my time with these kids, not for anything.  

What Can I Do?

There is an ad campaign here in the Northwest, a local mattress store holds regular drives for supplies for foster kids. Before school starts they collect school supplies, in the fall they collect winter coats, and year-round they are bringing awareness. Their tag line is "Not everyone can be a foster parent, but anyone can help a foster child." I want to second that statement. ANYONE can help a foster child.
I regularly get questions about how to do this. I want to address that here. Get involved on some level. If you know a foster parent, babysit for them. Take their kids for an evening. You don't know how much this means to them, especially if their kids have special needs, which all foster kids do, that require extra care.
Second, if you have more time sign up to be a respite provider for foster kids. Contact your local DHS office or Children's Services office to learn how to do this. It might require classes, a background check, and finger printing, or it might require less than this. This enables you to care for foster kids overnight or for the weekend. Even though we no longer take placements, I still take babies/toddlers for respite when I am able to. There are very few people a foster family can leave their kids with overnight, become one of those people/families. You never know, you might fall in love...which is how we ended up adopting our son.
Third, you can become a CASA volunteer. A Court Appointed Special Advocate, is someone who is unbiased to either the parent's agenda or the agencies agenda. Their responsibility is to review the case and advocate for the best interests of the child. They work closely with the child's lawyer, case worker, foster parents, and most importantly THE CHILD to figure out what is best for the child. This requires you to attend all family meetings at DHS, visit the child, attend all court hearings, and remain in contact with all who are involved.
Lastly, look into your local Child Welfare laws and advocate for them to be better enforced or changed if need be. If you look at our government and how they allot time for issues, they often focus on those who can vote or those who can support their campaigns (just my humble opinion), which means that children are ignored. Our children are our future and without changes in our system, these children face a very uncertain future. 50% of foster children DO NOT graduate high school and only 3% earn a college degree. WE as a nation need to advocate for better for OUR kids.
"It takes a village to raise a child." Can you help to become that village?

http://www.childwelfare.gov/
http://www.casaforchildren.org/

GET IT OVER WITH!!!

We all know the tell-tale sign of pregnancy, usually it begins with a missed cycle. For many this can be a very exciting time, and it has been for me in the early days of trying to conceive, but it has typically been followed by heartache. As I have grown older, it has become a time of indifference. Over time I have created my own set of missed period rules (sorry guys, you're gonna have to deal with this topic).

Rule #1 if your period is one-day late, get intimate. Somehow I always start after being intimate with my husband. The second tried, and true, trigger is to window-shop for baby stuff. I know, I should know better than to get excited, but the stuff is SO CUTE. Third is to share with your spouse and a friend or two. Once you all get excited...Aunt Flo is there to ruin your day. If this doesn't work, then around day four to seven of being late, take a pregnancy test. Its like your body messes with you, "oh, you just spent $9 on a pregnancy test? Lol, GOTCHA!"

Twice in my marriage have I missed a period completely. I head to the doctor, thinking "maybe?" Only to be told that I am stressed out, and that is why my body skipped a period. Most recently, I was informed that my medication was off which is why my period was skipped. Then 28 days after the first should have started, I have another. Its like clockwork.

I know we all have our stories, and our tried and true period-starters. These are just mine. My dream for myself and all of you is that we will conceive. We will all know the joy of seeing the "+" on the test. We will experience the first ultrasound of our babies. That first kick will bring tears to our eyes and a lump to our throat. Then finally after nine glorious months, we will hold our miracle in our arms. Some of us will experience that, be it through IVF, Surrogate, or another unexplained miracle. Some (like me) will just see a baby, fall in love, and know that he was meant to be ours. No matter how your family is built, there are miracles all around. Find a way to smile and be thankful.  

A Letter to Our Son: Two Years

Dear Son,

Two years ago today, I received an amazing call. Our adoption worker called to tell me that our adoption had been finalized. You would be our son forever. I can't begin to tell you how happy this made us. See, we have dreamed of the day of having our own child for years, 10 years to be exact. To have someone to love, spoil, and leave a legacy behind to. I know we tell you this daily, but YOU are special.

Not going to lie, we have had our ups and downs. You are a "normal" toddler. You squeal, scream, and push buttons. You are hard-headed like your momma, and fearless like your daddy. The combination of the two is sometimes VERY scary. Like the time you tried to climb over the edge of the slide halfway down, and five feet in the air! Or the time you tried to go up the ladder, across the platform, and swing out over the slide all BACKWARDS! But we have survived.

We have succeeded at loving and spoiling you. I don't know many boys who have as many matchbox cars or Thomas Trains as you have. Don't get me started in on your collection of DVDs. But more than physical possessions, you are spoiled with love (if that is possible). You can climb into our laps at anytime. You get to talk to daddy uninterupted every night, and have a short-order cook at your disposal every day.

There are some things that we hope for you for the future. We hope that we as parents can guide you to be loving. You are naturally good-natured, and accepting of everyone, our prayer is that this never leaves you. We want you to be successful in whatever you do. Last week you told us that you want to be a dentist and last night you told us that you want to work on the wires with Daddy. Your love for building makes us think you might just do that, or be an engineer or carpenter. Whatever you do, we pray that you succeed and are happy. Lastly, we want you to love learning. Whether it is learning more about God, the world, your line of work, or your hobbies. Never quit thirsting for knowledge.

Two years has taught us so much. It has caused us to grow as a family. We cannot wait to see how you grow, who you become, and how you succeed. We know that there will be failures, we will be here for you, and love you no matter what. Our Dear Son, always remember, YOU are SPECIAL.

Love,

Momma and Daddy

I didn't give you the gift of life,

but in my heart I know.

The love I feel is deep and real,

as if it had been so.

For us to have each other,

is like a dream come true.

No, I didn't give you the gift of life,

life gave me the gift of you.

-Author Unknown

Broken

I had a conversation with a friend recently, we talked about our different struggles with fertility. I cannot conceive and she can. I know, your minds are whirling with thoughts of, "If she can conceive, then she's not infertile". WRONG! You see, while she has seen the plus sign or two lines or the word "pregnant" on a pregnancy test, she hasn't held a brand new baby from her body. In that way we are the same. She has had the heartbreak of multiple miscarriages. During our conversation, she explained to me our bond, WE'RE BROKEN.
I am broken because of a doctor's scalpel that saved my life at the age of ten. She is broken by genetics. Neither of us can look at the other and say, "I have it harder" or "you have it harder". We don't even try. Its invalid to our lives.
What is valid is our friendship and our journey. We travel this road side-by-side. We rejoice with every triumph, we discuss options and specialists, and we have cried together at every "failure".
At the same time that we recognize our brokenness, we also see strength. We are each wonderful wives, great mothers, and best friends. Brokenness does not define us, but it is part of what makes us stronger.

Being A Foster/Adoptive Mommy: Transitions

While being a foster parent, we had five children come and go as temporary placements. I can tell you now, that we made mistakes. We also learned from those mistakes. I mentioned before having a placement come the night before leaving for a family visit. In hind sight, we were blessed to have a baby that was so "go with the flow". Now I know to take a day or two with a child to adjust to their new surroundings.

This means cancelling scheduled trips, appointments, and staying home. This first baby was plunged into my extended family, but he held tight to the only stability he knew at that moment, my husband and I. He refused to sit on others laps if either of us walked in the room. He cried when we left. I should have noticed these things then, but I will say it aloud, I was inexperienced.

The next child had more one on one time with me, however she was an emotional wreck when I left her with my husband while I went to work two nights later. She didn't take to my husband for several days and wouldn't let him near her if I was not home. I took the rest of the week off after I realized this. Within a few weeks, I left my job all together. In part because these babies needed me more than I needed work.

By the third child, I learned that it was imperative that I give the child time to adjust and adapt. We had a play date scheduled that day, and I chose to stay home so that she wasn't jerked about. This was the easiest transition by far. I am sure her personality had something to do with it, but I also know it was because she had time to adjust.

If you chose to foster or adopt, be sure that you take the time off to help the child adjust to your home. Help them adjust to you and let them grieve whatever they have left behind, even if you feel that this is a better situation. That was their stability and this whole process is scary for them. 

Are These ALL Your Kids?

As a foster parent you often get kids of all ages, its really by divine intervention the children you get and when you get them. We have had multiple placements from multiple families on a few occasions, and this is the question that I get a lot. It usually follows "What are their ages".

One particular occurance happened when we were blessed to have our son, before he was our son, overnight in addition to our foster child. We had received a midnight call for an additional foster child, "Just until Monday". So our home had grown by one. We had family in town this same weekend, and had to get out of the house. See, there were four adults and five children (ages six to one) in our 900 square foot condo, we needed a break.

We walked down to the park to play. While there another family was also playing with their toddler at the same time. The dad asked the, "What are their ages" question, and we could see the wheels turning when we responded. He was doing the math...9 month gestation for each child...it didn't add up, as there was 12 months between the youngest and oldest.

I explained that none of them were "ours" genetically, but our foster children. Which didn't make the situation any more bearable for him. I don't fault him for this. People rarely know how to respond, so typically we just smiled and nodded when we were told that "our" children are beautiful. We do this because they are beautiful. We also do this because we know that we were blessed with "our" children.

You'll also see, I put quotes around "ours" because, in that moment they were ours. Maybe not genetically, and for two of them only for a time, but they were ours to love. Ours to comfort. Ours to nurture. This is our duty, and our responsibility to these kids. In return we are blessed by them ten-fold.  

(Photo taken of our son AFTER our adoption was finalized)

Adoption, Not Just Babies

I apologize for the delay in posting, we as a family are in transition. I read this article today and HAD to share. As you probably already know, I am a BIG ADVOCATE for adoption. There are no words to describe the beauty of it. I realize that not all people want to adopt babies. I have a friend who doesn't want to be awakened at night or deal with diapers. For those people adoption of an older child, namely from Foster Care is a perfect option.
But what happens after adoption, really of any child, is just as important to prepare for as what happens before thy come home. My husband and I are emotionally prepared (as best as we can be) for our child to act out, if he does. We recognize that adoption comes with some challenges. Such as abandonement, development, and even memories of prior abuse. We shouldn't be scared away from loving kids by these things, instead we should prepare for them.
Educate yourself. Seek professional help. Find a support group. These are things that will help your adoption to be successful!
NPR.org » Helping Foster Kids Even After Adoption

When You Least Expect It

 In July of 2009, we had made arrangements to take our Little Buddy home to visit my WHOLE family for the first time. We had our paperwork to leave the state in order, and were counting down the hours until he would be dropped off. I had just one shift left until my Holiday Weekend off from the hotel, and on that Thursday at 3pm I received a call. We were asked to take our first foster baby. They were not sure when the child would come into care. I was told, “it could be today, tomorrow, or a month from now”.

Since there was no definite boundary, I left for work, as my shift started at 4pm. At 3:45pm, I received another call. They had located the child and would be at my home within the half-hour. I arrived at work, arranged for my co-worker to stay late, called my husband, and ran home. The baby was waiting for me with two caseworkers. Within minutes I was handed a baby and a diaper bag. There was an outfit, maybe two, in the bag and enough diapers and formula to get us through the first 24 hours. I now know that this is more than one usually gets with a foster child.

My husband was home by 5pm, and I handed over this confused baby. I left for my shift at work, but was barely able to focus...how could I? In an hour we had become parents!

Remember that we were scheduled to leave for my parents' home the next day? Well, thankfully someone was working late at our Child Welfare office. This angel of a worker stopped at our home at 10pm to drop off the necessary paperwork to show that we were the child's placement and could leave the state with him. The child had been asleep for a few hours by this point, and our Little Buddy had been dropped off hours before so that we could leave first thing in the morning. **First thing, being relative with two infants in our home.  

Livin' on Love, Buyin' on Time

In February of 2009, I had to privilege of introducing this amazing vampire-toothed bundle of joy to my sisters and niece. They had come down for a weekend at the beach, and I had (purposely) double-booked myself with the baby and with them. They immediately fell in love with him, which I knew that they would, and were happy to help me with feeding, changing, and entertaining him. I have many precious photos from that weekend, especially from our walk on the beach, photos that I will cherish forever.

As time wore on, we got to the point where instead of waiting for a call to ask us to babysit, we would call to “borrow the baby”. He was such a joy, that we would make up excuses to have him or to keep him longer than agreed upon. By June we knew that we wanted him, that if he went up for adoption, we had to have him. We thought we would have that answer soon.

In June there was a “permanency hearing” held in regards to him. The name in and of itself, is really deceiving. You would assume that a permanency hearing would decide to future of a child, however in reality the hearing is to ensure that DHS is moving forward (at least in a minimal fashion) and to check on the parents progress in complying with the court's orders. If the parents have done anything then the court can (and often will) extend the amount of time that the parents have to meet the court's requirements. At this point this little boy was 13 months old, and had been with his foster family since he was released from the hospital. By federal mandate, parents of foster children are given 12 months to get it together, or longer if they have made some progress. Since they had made some progress, they were given more time, three months to be exact.

We could wait however. We had our paperwork completed for both adoption and for foster care certification. We had gotten our physicals done, required to adopt any child, to ensure that we were both in good health. And lastly we had our “nursery” set up, complete with a farm-theme! As “expectant parents” went, we were ready...or so we thought.  

I Release You

Today, for whatever reason, a memory came flooding back to me. It was a point when we were young, maybe 23 years old, when I told my husband, "I release you". I don't think on this often, because it was in the midst of my darkest days. The period of my life that I'd just rather forget than remember.
For those of you who aren't familiar with the Bible, there are passages that speak of the joy of having a children. Psalm 127:3-5 says, "Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one's youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate." I had felt like I was a failure of a wife, how could I hold my husband back from this blessing?
Even though we had no confirmed answer as to why we couldn't have children, I knew then that it wasn't his problem, it was mine. So, out of pity (for him or for me, I couldn't tell you), I told him that he could divorce me to find a wife that could give him a child. He was free to leave.
Thankfully, I am blessed with a wonderful husband, and one who was wise beyond his 23 years. He told me that he had no interest in leaving me. That if we lived childless forever, he would be happy just being my husband.
Now that I am older (nearly a decade!) I can look back on that moment and realize that it doesn't matter how your family is built. Or if you have children at all. What matters is that you, as an individual or a couple, have support. You have someone who loves you, and chooses to stand by you regardless of the circumstances. I pray that you have the same.

Falling In Love

For several months we would babysit this little man. We'd take him on weekends, take him for an afternoon, and we'd have him OVERNIGHT. Talk about scary...here we are adults who have NEVER had children, and we have a baby sleeping in a cradle next to our bed! 

I don't think I slept at all that first night. The baby, on the other hand, slept 12 hours. I was awake for every breath, coo, and squeak while this four-month old bundle slept peacefully. He was perfect. 

A few months later, I got sick, REALLY sick. I couldn't hardly move my body was so exhausted. Doctors poked and prodded me. I was on a first-name basis with my phlebotomist, since we were seeing each other ever other day. In the end I was diagnosed with an auto-immune disorder. My immune system decided that an organ needed to die, I might add it is a necessary organ! 

This two month period put a hold on spending time with our little buddy. It was heartbreaking especially as we were supposed to have him for a FEW days during this period. We saw him at church, and soaked up every possible snuggle moment that we could. We had inadvertently fallen in love. We were in love with a not-so-little baby whose smile resembled a vampire (his front teeth came in after the rest) and I believe that he was falling in love with us also. 

Mommy Wars

I might be behind on this, but it seems like a topic that should be addressed. We have all seen the Time Magazine cover, if not...you must not have the same 'mom-friends' that I do. ;) I feel like its important to talk about this as an infertile woman and as a Foster/Adoptive mother.
You see, the day this launched I saw it spring up on SEVERAL of my friend's facebook pages and the discussion ranged from, "Why would you breast-feed a child who will remember it later?" to "Why are we judging this mom's choices." I want to pose another question, "Why are we judging any mom's choices?" Our only questions should be, "Is she hurting her child?" "Are they fed?" "Are they clothed?" And "Are they kept warm at night?"
As an infertile woman, I have never carried a baby in my womb. I have never breast-fed a child, I may never have that chance. I don't co-sleep, I do have a cradle in my bedroom for infants who I foster or do respite for, but my bed is sacred. My son HATED the Ergo, and sobbed every time I tried to put him in it (he was nearly two when he came to us forever). You see, "my babies" came to us at various stages of development, and with various traumas (some more than others). Does my inability to do these things lessen my ability to mother? NO.
What an article like this does to many women is make us feel inferior. Ten years ago, I would've looked at this picture and thought to myself, "I am a failure". I will never be able to do "those" things. My child will not attach to me like "theirs" do. Today I look to this photo and think to myself, "To each her own". We are all doing what we can. I think as women we need to stop comparing, stop complaining, and start supporting and listening. We have so much to offer each other, don't let the media come between us.
While I do not want to launch into a debate on whether or not to use attachment parenting in raising your babies, current or future, I do want to share another link. Kristen Howerton posted a response in the Huffington Post as a response to the EXPLOSION of posts, comments, and media coverage on this cover photo.  I personally can't agree with her more. Let's end the "War" on Mommies who are doing what is best, and instead FIGHT for children locally and globally who hang in limbo.

A Perfect Moment

While in the midst of attending these classes, I approached my friend who has been a long-time foster parent. She had a little boy, who was roughly three months old. I knew this from attending church and being a member of the 'baby snatchers' family. You see when this foster family has a new baby, our family offers to take the baby so that they can enjoy church. ;) This gives us the time to get our 'baby fix' since at this time there were few grand-babies and not enough to go around. Sorry, followed the rabbit trail. I had approached her since we had taken a class or two I felt like we were 'nearly certified' and offered to babysit him for them, if they needed help. She told me that she would keep that in mind.
A few weeks later she took me up on that offer, and I brought home a baby boy for the afternoon. We cuddled him, snuggled him, fed him (probably too much), and LOVED on him. It was an afternoon that I will remember forever. At one point he got fussy, probably because I was all up in his face with a bottle, and my husband took him. He held him in the crook of his arm and they 'played video games' together. The baby was content, like he belonged there.

The Classes to Talk You Out of This

Roughly two months after our initial meeting we were sitting in a classroom for our first class. We were fortunate enough to get in on weekend classes, when DHS was still offering them. These classes ran three hours on Friday, eight hours on Saturday, and eight hours on Sunday. They were carried out for two consecutive weekends. On the first day of our class we were asked to state our names, birth order, and what our end-goal was for taking these classes. You see, our instructor believed in (and so do I) the fact that your rank in your family, or your birth-order, helps shape who you are as an adult. She also wanted to get a feel for our class, what we hoped to get out of this. There were really four options as far as goals go, Foster, Foster-Adopt, Adopt, or Relative Care. My husband and I were half-way around the room, and really didn't know if we were there to adopt or foster-adopt, we had kicked both options around, but hadn't come to a conclusion. By the time that she made it to us, we had decided, Foster-Adopt.

She also shared a lot of her history. Our instructor was a former-foster child, she had a degree in psychology, and was also an adoptive mother. If you ask me, she is a rare person to have in Child-Welfare, but the perfect person to be there. She shared her own story of abuse, healing, and parenting. She was able to use her own life as an example of what foster kids endure. I won't go into details, as I don't have her permission, but to say my heart was broken for her and these children would be an understatement. 

These classes, essentially prepared us for "worse-case scenarios". They covered physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. They also covered neglect, which is hard to identify on its own, but is just as damaging. The classes themselves seemed to be designed to prepare you for horrible things to see, hear, and experience through these kids. In the end we weren't scared off, we wanted to fight for these kids. 

Mother's Day

We all know it, Mother's Day is a cliche "Greeting Card Holiday" but when you are infertile, it is so much more. You wake knowing that today is the day that others celebrate what you can't have. You go to church and watch ALL the mothers being called forward, and cry inwardly because very few know your story. Then you spend the rest of the day either trying to forget its Mother's Day by doing something fun (which really is impossible as strangers from the waitress at the restaurant to the girl at the perfume counter all ask remind you), or in the fetal position on your bed sobbing. I have done both, neither really works.
Now I am a Mom, and honestly other than the presents (public THANK YOU for the Pioneer Woman Cookbook to my son), today will go on like any other day. I woke up, made my coffee, and set out my son's breakfast. I took him potty, helped him take his nighttime pull-up off, and assisted him in washing his hands. I selected today's wardrobe, dressed him, and brushed his hair. Later I will cook, do dishes, and HOPEFULLY weed what will be my flower beds. The only difference for me is that today I will remember why I do these things.
Today I will remind myself that as little as three years ago, I cried because I couldn't do them. As you know, I don't claim perfection, I am a wreck. So often I forget why I do these things. I admittedly sleep in too late, spend too much time on facebook, and really despise working in my yard, but today I chose to celebrate my son. Really, isn't that what being a Mother is all about?

Sometimes Commercials Make Me Cry

So today, I was babysitting a friends three miracles along with my own son. See all four children are blessings to our families through adoption, and while I was sitting with the kids in the living room a *Pampers* commercial came on. Maybe you have seen this commercial, it is roughly a full minute in length and talks about babies as miracles. There are no spoken words, just written statements, but the impact was so great that I started to weep. For me, my son is a blessing that far outweighs the value of oil in the Middle East or diamonds in Africa. Do I remember this when he is having a temper tantrum in a department store and I have to carry him out SCREAMING and KICKING? I would lie if I claim to have walked out with a smile on my face announcing to the world, "THIS IS MY BLESSING!" I get frustrated, I sometimes raise my voice, and occasionally do or say something that I later regret (and have to apologize to him for). I am human. Tonight, I at 7:30pm I had a rare opportunity. It was roughly a half hour before bedtime and instead of jumping on facebook, I decided to snuggle my boy. We read five books, laid on his twin bed together, and bonded. This is my miracle. I know this to be true, and I need to take more time to be with him. I am posting about this commercial so that you can cry with me. I hope that it reminds you the next time you see that mom, (maybe its me) leaving a department store with a screaming toddler, to appreciate the miracle...but don't tell her that in the moment. Or that it will remind you to hug your children tighter, and appreciate their breaths. They are miraculous.
 **I do not own this commercial, nor was I paid in any way to do this, but what company doesn't love FREE ADVERTISING**

*Pampers*

Tell Us About this Adoption Thing

Roughly four years ago we moved back into our condo. Somehow over the past six years this has become "home-base" but that is another story for another time. Our condo is roughly 900 square feet, I'd say its more on the "roughly" side of 900, meaning its smaller than. It is a small 3-bedroom, one bath unit with NO OUTDOOR SPACE. We had three dogs at that time, and while life was okay, we felt like we weren't complete and we really needed to go for this "Adoption Thing". So again, I called up our DHS office and this time scheduled an appointment with a representative from their office. Within a week or so she was sitting on our couch with us discussing Foster-care and Adoption. The highlights of the conversation included the fact that we have "No children" of our own. Therefore, we would not be "as strong of candidates" to adopt "THEIR KIDDOS" since our parenting experience was non-existent. You see, when you adopt a child they often come with baggage (especially from foster care). This might not be visible immediately, but they must be handled with care. There maybe feelings of loss or abandonment down the road or immediately; they may have physical or mental delays/limitations; or they may have memories of abuse and neglect in their prior home. For these reasons DHS would look at us and ask, "You haven't parented 'normal kids' how do you expect to be able to parent 'ours'?" Harsh, yes. Right, probably not. Since when is a government agency not biased? The second piece that has stuck with me forever, and probably the ONE thing that I should have listened better to, was her statement about attachment. She told us that DHS "asks foster parents to do the impossible, to love a child completely and attach to them, but be willing to let go". You see, attachment is necessary for kids development. A child learns to trust the adults who care for them, and that builds the base for them to attach to others as they get older. A child who is not given an opportunity to attach, may struggle in all relationships as they get older. In essence, they may stop reaching out since they have not had their emotional needs met. We knew we could love kids selflessly, there was no question of that. After our conversation she suggested an upcoming foster parent certification class. This class is 40 hours of intense training on child development, behaviors, addiction, neglect, abuse, and the system. She suggested that maybe we should attend this to help us decide which direction to go. As she left, we asked her to sign us up.

Adoption: The Paperwork

In 2007, shortly after realizing that we were most likely not going to conceive without medical assistance, we contacted some family friends. These are people that my in-laws have known for YEARS, who are foster parents and they have also adopted a few children. I inquired about adoption, and they directed us to our local DHS: Child Welfare office. I contacted this agency and after a short (lunch-break) phone conversation was sent a "packet" of paperwork, which I was instructed to fill out and return for another "packet". Now I want to make sure that "packet" is a term I would give to an elementary school kid's homework assignment, this was no packet. This was a novel...background check forms, income statements, family history, and blood-samples. Okay, I am exaggerating at the blood samples, but it felt like they wanted BLOOD! I proceeded to fill this paperwork out, and somewhere in the midst of figuring our our household income vs. our debt (think buying a house), got overwhelmed. The packet was set aside and left. This was for the best as during this time we were leasing a house that needed a lot of work...really, it was not a place to bring a child into (I don't know how we end up committing to OLD houses that are falling apart, each more-so than the last!). In addition to this we were renting our condo to a family, and that situation took a lot of work. I had also taken a promotion with my company, that was not conducive to my lifestyle. To say that we were ready to adopt at this point would be a lie. Honestly looking back, we were not in the right place to be parents, especially parents of foster-children. Not saying that we couldn't make it work, but we had so much other "stuff" going on that it would've been a stressful experience. I believe that there is a purpose to my life, and at that point we were not ready for the responsibility of parenthood. So, we tabled, or burned the "packet". By this point I didn't feel like it could be turned in anyhow, it was half filled out in black ink and half filled out in two different shades of blue ink. Yeah, it was not ready to be turned in.

Hi, My Name is Karen and I am Infertile

Seriously, I am. But you already knew that. I was silent, but you knew that too. What I am learning to be is a listener. Honestly, this is what I feel that I am being taught. Since beginning this documentation, this blog of my life that I have lived for the past dozen years, I have been learning to not only share, but to listen. This is what I've heard, this is an epidemic. Men, women, and couples everywhere are struggling with this. I get misty-eyed just considering the number of people who have approached me in the past year asking for advice and direction. Questions ranging from, "Does it get easier?" to "How do I begin the adoption process?" to "Who did you see as a fertility specialist?" Often I am blessed to hear their story or the story of their loved one. I say "blessed" because when someone opens up and talks about their infertility story I do not take that lightly. I think back to the women who I shared the secrets of our battle with and consider what they did that made it so easy to essentially dump such a heavy topic on them, and what I continually come back to is the fact that they listened. They didn't talk or give suggestions, they were quiet and let me vent. When that was over, they prayed for me, hugged me, and told me that they loved me. Now its my turn and I am trying to do the same. I will pray for you, listen, cyber-hug, and love you. This is how I picture a meeting for addicts (sorry, my reference is limited to what I see depicted in Hollywood). "Hi, My name is Karen and I am infertile." I see a group of people who accept me. Even if they haven't walked the same path, they empathize. They listen to my story, in its entirety. Finally they don't judge me as the "crazy-woman" (that honestly, I know I am). This is what I desire for all of us. Whether its in infertility, divorce, death, or depression. Be there for that person, listen, hug them, and let them know that they are loved. This is my #1 advice to man-kind. I am so blessed to have a loving family (in-laws included), wonderful friends, and a very understanding husband.

A Bit of Your Heart

I apologize for occasionally "skipping around" in our story, but today my heart is heavy with a concept that few understand. I have been told before, when my heart is aching for foster children who have left my home, that "This is what you signed up for". And while that statement is true, it doesn't make it easier.
My husband and I have been foster parents for nearly three years and while time helps bring acceptance, you never truly heal from the pain of having a child that you truly love leave your home. This last week has been especially difficult for me as two of "my" babies have been ill or had medical procedures done. You see while they are not legally mine, and not biologically born of my body, they still embody a piece of my heart.
For a mother Who has spent nights awake with a child, or kissed their boo-boos when they have fallen, there is something chemically that happens. It is natural to attach, and necessary for that child's development for this to take place. Over time (as the child grows and matures) we let go, we raise them, teach them, and when they are of age allow them to leave our home. This is where the difference is, as a foster parent one must not only attach to that child and love them as our own, but be prepared to let go long before they are ready for the real world. Its unnatural, and not something to enter into lightly.
I will never say that I regret being a foster parent. I loved every baby as though they were my own. I treat them with the same love that I show my son. I also never knew how much they would mean to me. I thought I could compartmentalize and be realistic.
I never got the statement that a "Child is a piece of your heart walking around outside your body" until after I became a mother. I can now say that I understand this statement and while "this is what I signed up for" I never knew the pain of letting go before this point.
As I have said before, this journey is not pain-free. We each chose our routes to the same end of FAMILY. I encourage each of you to examine your heart and chose what is best for you, your spouse, and your children. Be prepared for heartache, as it seems to be common place with joy and love. Lastly, be prepared to give up little bits of your heart and see them walking around outside of your body. I guess that is advice to give to ALL parents, not just us on this journey through infertility.

Having "THE TALK"

After I had the dye test, I was somewhat excited...according to the tech this could be fixed. When we arrived at my Fertility Doc's office, reality set it. Sitting in her office, thankfully she has an actual office to meet in and not on a cold table, we chatted about the dye test results. She felt because a combination of things, that my chances of conceiving IF she could clear my tubes would be less than 20% in the first year. Those chances would then continue to decline over time. She also told me that I have a "beautiful uterus" (you don't hear that everyday) and that she has no doubts that I could carry a baby to term.
Her response to my situation was an IVF, ICSI. This is where they essentially harvest my eggs and implant (using a needle) his semen into each egg. She felt that this was the most successful of procedures (even in couples with normal sperm counts), but it comes with a cost. At that time the cost was $12,000. We didn't have that kind of money, and our insurance (which was only $10K to diagnose) was nearly used up. In addition to the financial piece to it, we were not comfortable with that procedure, especially if there were children waiting to be adopted. (PLEASE don't take this as criticism...IF you are going through an IVF, we believe that each family must make whatever decision that they are comfortable with. I cannot tell you what to do with your own body, I simply must make decisions based upon what I feel is best for me and my family.)
One thing I love about this doctor is her emphasis on making informed, educated, and well thought out decisions. She tells you to leave her office and discuss it. She encouraged us to do so with the IVF and also offered brochures on adoption. I really appreciate someone who even though they have a preferred route that they'd rather you take, allows you to make decisions on your own.
Honestly, we left her office empty handed and a little saddened, but better equipped to make our next decision on what to do on this journey. I believe that as a doctor, she did her job. She was informative and thorough. I couldn't thank her more for that.

For more info on IVF, ICSI I recommend that you start here:
http://www.webmd.com/infertility-and-reproduction/guide/intracytoplasmic-sperm-injection-for-infertility

Dyed Like and Easter Egg

After taking time to READ MY INSURANCE, see previous post, I called my Practitioner and ask for a referral. Remember, this is the same Practitioner who was so sympathetic to my whole ordeal. She happily gave me both the referral and the phone number of a Fertility Doctor somewhat (within two hours) local to me. Within a few weeks I was sitting in front of her having a consult. She asked all the same questions about health history. She went deep into questions about my appendectomy that I had had as a child. She asked about family history. Finally she scheduled a Hysterosalpingogram (remember the dye test referred to before?) for me.
A short few weeks after the initial appointment I was in an imaging center wearing nothing but a hospital gown waiting for this magic test. My waiting room was no larger than a shower stall with a bench and a curtain for privacy. Here I sat until a tech would come for me.
I was then whisked into an area that resembles the platform from "Mars Needs Moms", okay not that bad nor was it a glass room, but you know the space where you believe that alien "probing" could go on. As I am laying on a cold stainless steel table, with a sheet or two for "warmth". She is prepping at my opposite end (sorry, no other way to describe it). I had been warned that I would feel a cold sensation after the dye was injected and after a few minutes of what I thought was prep, she told me she was done and to go get dressed. No cold sensation. No, "hey we're ready to go". She simply did the test without me knowing it had happened. Don't get me wrong, I have no bitterness. I was just shocked.
I asked what she saw, and was shown the x-rays. My uterus had filled with fluid (BLACK on screen) and it stopped. No fluid had made it into my tubes. She explained what I saw, and that it meant that I have no eggs making it to my uterus to implant and no semen making it to my eggs to fertilize. She also told me that I have one of the "best surgeons in Oregon" as a fertility specialist.
Now, I know what you are thinking...some of you are heart-broken for me, and maybe I would have been too...except you have to understand that after 7 years of not preventing this was an answer. I was elated! My joy was shared by my husband...but a lot of people were saddened by this realization. This moment (and many others) has reminded me that I am pretty numb when it comes to my fertility. What I know, and have experienced is unique to those fighting this battle. It is something that makes sense to those of us who are "infertile".

Know Your Insurance!

**I do not endorse any insurance, nor do I make any claims about your insurance. I am simply suggesting that as women/men we become informed of what is available to us through our OWN plans**

When we began this journey, we were ignorant to say the least. At one point someone said to us, "Insurance doesn't cover fertility problems" and we left it at that. We literally left it at that for SEVEN YEARS! Then one day, I had a thought...what if I actually LOOK at my insurance. So while working for a financial institution, who by the way had what I would consider average benes, I looked up our insurance plan. I typed into the search bar fertility, and was shocked to find that I had coverage for diagnosis and treatment of infertility UP TO $10,000. We all know how fast $10K goes, but I thought maybe we can get some answers!
I have also heard of insurance plans having NO CAP on diagnosis. Another plan that I have recently heard of WILL COVER treatment, including IVF! I am sure, like with birth control, there are some insurances who don't cover at all.
I will encourage you again, if you haven't already done so, READ your insurance paperwork. If something seems vague, call them. Talk with your doctor. Sometimes the diagnosis can also be a fix (ahem, the dye test will occasionally blow out your tubes).
If anything...you will get answers. You will obtain knowledge. Honestly, having knowledge or a label of what is going on, will help you heal your heart. If nothing else, it will answer questions and help you make the next decision.

A Sympathetic Ear

Those of you who've been following know what question I am talking about...the "You aren't on birth-control?" question. This time, she asks in a way that isn't SHOCKED, disgusted, or patronizing. She simply asks as if we've been friends forever.
I then proceed to explain my situation. How its been six years of "not preventing" splashed with a few months of TRYING. Her eyes soften, and I see a woman who is sympathetic. She isn't covering this with jokes or nervous sarcasm. She sees it as I do...a very troubling circumstance. She asks what tests have been done, and if I have a diagnosis. I tell her of my simple blood work, the thyroid meds, the clomid, and the charting. I leave out the part about "Doctor Bedside Manner".
She proceeds to tell me about the Hysterosalpingogram (or Dye Test, which was mentioned to me before) to check if your tubes are blocked or not (see here for more info: http://www.webmd.com/infertility-and-reproduction/guide/hysterosalpingogram-21590). She explains that often this test alone will "blow out blocked tubes" enough to allow the woman to conceive. This sounds promising to me, but remember "Doctor Bedside Manner" telling me that "its expensive". That is all I can hear. I was certain that my insurance wouldn't cover it, so I tabled the thought for a while.
We resume with the rest of the exam, and she thanks me for coming in. Leaving that office, there were no tears. For the first time, I knew someone sympathized, someone who would support and direct us to answers. I had found more than a doctor, I had found a friend.

Giving Up...And Moving Forward

After my run-in with "Doctor Bedside Manner" I was completely deflated. I normally would take someone telling me "no" as a challenge, however in this instance I took it as final. I spent the next year focusing on pressing items, such as finding a job, selling our Seattle area home, and settling into our new community. With a couple of personal hiccups past, all seemed well in my life.
One such hiccup was my work life, and a couple of career changes later (and NEW insurance acquired)I realized that it had been two years since my last physical. I know there is a reason why they call it the "Annual Exam" however, for me its more like the every 2-4 year exam...really who WANTS to go through with that? But I digress, again. Since I had SWORN to NEVER enter that other doctor's office again, I had to find a new physician. I then went to another significant woman in my life, and asked who she saw...because your best referrals come from those that you know, right? She referred me to her nurse practitioner, who was also a good friend of hers. I promptly made the appointment (R.I.G.H.T) to see the NP (short for Nurse Practitioner: which is how I will refer to her from now on, since **** gets old ;)).
At my first visit I was handed the "Health History Questionnaire", also known as the "Think About All the Things Wrong with You, and the Ones You Love Form". Seriously, does anyone else start breaking out in a cold sweat when filling this out? Is there a history of Heart Disease? Yes. Obesity? YES. Diabetes? YES. Bad Hair? YES. Okay, so I made up the last one, but you get the picture...It makes us all look at our health and mortality. SCARY. There is also that little check-box that asks Birth Control? NO.
I am ushered into the exam room by a sweet grey-haired woman, who takes my vitals and hands me a gown. THIS is what I am used to albeit not as comfortable as talking to a stranger with your clothes on, it is "the norm". I am instructed to change into this bed-sheet with sleeves and ties (really, who thought that one up?) down the back and wait for NP to enter. Within a few minutes of donning the "sheet of shame" NP enters. I notice that she is holding my "Think About All the Things Wrong with You, and the Ones You Love Form" and prepare for the inevitable question...

Why Them? Why not me?

I regularly think of things to post, and then immediately think of how that post will come across to someone else. In doing so, I have learned to remind myself that this is our story. This Blog is here to not only help others understand what their friends and family are experiencing (and what we've experienced), but to help those who are traveling a similar road to know that they are not alone. That there are others who have lived through or with their same feelings, thoughts, and experiences. That being said, there is one common statement that I have heard (and even said, okay SCREAMED) a lot over the years from others who have struggled with infertility is the "Why them? Why not me" questions.
Its something that has crossed all of our minds. Why are people who are addicted to drugs or appear to be fornicating to increase their government assistance check able to continue to have baby after baby? Why not me? Why not US? Why not the nice couple who have a nice corner lot in suberbia? Why not...?
I wish I had the answers. I still find myself asking this question, especially as my husband and I continue to be involved in the foster-care community. It never does get easier to see those that I believe are unfit parents walking down the street SCREAMING at their child as they drag them behind them, or walking out of the Childwelfare building large, pregnant, and high. What I have to do is remind myself through GRITTED TEETH, that I don't see the big picture. There is a purpose in everything.
I also have to repeat to myself what I consider my life verse...

Isaiah 54:1-3a (MSG)
"Sing, barren woman, who has never had a baby. Fill the air with song, you who've never experienced childbirth! You're ending up with far more children than all those childbearing women." God says so! "Clear lots of ground for your tents! Make your tents large. Spread out! Think big! Use plenty of rope, drive the tent pegs deep. You're going to need lots of elbow room for your growing family.

This gives me comfort. At this point in my life (with out medical intervention), I am not going to carry a child. I am the "barren woman". But I can't stop there, I can't feel bad for myself or focus on bitterness towards those who can conceive. I must focus on rejoicing in what I have. I must prepare my home for my "growing family". Wallowing in self-pity gets me no-where and helps nothing. I chose to act.

I have told you before that I don't expect you to act the same way that I do. I don't expect everyone to be comfortable in fostering or adoption. Neither act is 100% comfortable all the time, but if I could be permitted to give you advice find something to pour yourself into. I have wallowed, I have been nearly catatonic, neither benefits me, my spouse, or anyone else. Act.

A New Perspective, A Second Third Opinion...

Within a matter of two short weeks later, I walked into my small local women's clinic to meet with the doctor that I was referred to. Still over the moon with excitement, I read a parenting magazine in the waiting room, which I normally avoided like the plague. I stumbled upon a reusable Ovulation test kit that helped you diagnose the consistency of your mucus (sorry, none of any of this is pretty). This kit was really exciting to me, I thought for sure it could help me! I was going to share it with Dr. *******! Surely if ***** was right this Dr. would be just as interested in us getting pregnant as she was. Right?
Wrong. Dr. ******* walked in with my chart, a stern look on his face as he reviewed it. He shared that my thyroid levels were normal, asked the "usual" questions, and then dropped the verbal bomb. "It says here that you've been trying to conceive for four years?" (umm, yeah.) "No pregnancies?" (umm, no) "Why don't you just give up and adopt?" EXCUSE ME? "I can't believe ***** didn't suggest this to you. You should just give up and adopt."
Can you see my 24 year old jaw hitting the floor? I proceeded to ask about the proceedure **** had recommended, and was shot down with "its too expensive, just adopt". I showed him the item I was looking at...he blew it off as it won't work. He then excused himself and me, leaving me stunned and silent in the room alone.
My next steps are a blur. I remember making it to my truck, and bursting into tears. I sat in the parking lot sobbing...I couldn't believe that THIS was the doctor with the best bedside manner at that clinic. I was crushed, and spent the rest of the day crying. I cried on the phone while talking to my husband. I drove to work, sobbing. I spent the whole rest of the day wearing sunglasses to hide my puffy eyes.
I never did return to that clinic. To this day I won't go. A doctor dealing with women SHOULD have more tact than that.

A New Perspective, A Second Opinion...

After a few years of life in the Seattle area, my husband and I chose to move closer to "home". We had both grown up in small towns and wanted the same for our future children. We quickly settled into our surroundings, and I was reminded that I hadn't seen a doctor for my "physical" in some time (I am thinking close to two years?). I spoke with some local women (because...how else do you pick a doctor?), who referred me to a women's clinic in my area. Scheduled my appointment, and walked in the door on the day of my visit.
Initially I was SHOCKED. It all went down as normal...weight (shudder), height (shorter), blood pressure (normal), and a health questionnaire, but when it came time for the nurse to leave, she neglected to give me a robe. I questioned this fact, and was told that ""****" likes prefers to talk to you with your clothes on before getting down to business." So odd, I was used to being in and out of my Dr's appointments in under 20 minutes, and now we are going to TALK?
In a few minutes "****" walks in and introduces herself. She pulls out the health questionnaire and begins "the talk". Something to the affect of "I see you aren't on birth control...Do you WANT to get pregnant?" I respond with something snide like, "THAT WOULD BE NICE!" This time I am not met with sad eyes, but by a feisty little pixie who asks "How long" we've been "not preventing".
After I answer her questions she replies with some options. We could have a dye test done to track my fallopian tubes for blockages, which often get cleared during the test, or we could look at my Thyroid levels again. Needless to say, I have a new doctor who is optimistic and willing to look at getting me "knocked up" (her words) or at least getting me answers. I am on cloud nine. I remember leaving her office after my exam laughing (that has never happened before) and elated. I schedule a blood draw and a follow up appointment with one of her co-workers, who is a Dr. (she is a Licensed Nurse Practitioner/Midwife) and can prescribe my Thyroid meds if need be...

The Question

**Disclaimer: I am not pointing fingers, nor am I posting a "shame on you" post. I am speaking from my heart, and sharing OPENLY our experiences**
This is usually used as a general conversation starter, and honestly I am sure that I am just as guilty of using it with some of my friends. I do TRY to only ask my closest friends, and to only ask in a one on one setting. This is the "When are you guys going to have kids?" question.
We began hearing it shortly after we got married. Being a young Christian couple, this was pretty much expected of us. Marriage=Procreation. Shoot, this was what we expected of ourselves! But I digress, again. In the beginning...(wow that sounded oddly familiar)we heard this question primarily from family and friends. As time went on we heard it (say around the 2-3 year mark) from acquaintances.
Now where this gets odd, is when someone (an acquaintance, for instance) asks this question in the midst of a group. One specific time that this happened to me was at a Baby Shower (seems to happen a lot around pregnant women). I remember being in the group, smiling and laughing, when someone asked me this question from across the room. Talk about awkward silence. I had no clue how to respond. Thankfully someone (who knew about my situation) changed the subject by redirecting a second question. I wish I could say that that particular moment wasn't etched in my brain forever...but it is.
I am not always caught off guard, however there was another instance. A younger woman asked me the question, in this instance it was just three of us chatting. The third woman then proceeded to explain, with her arm around me for support, that "Karen can't have babies". I was irate and when I got home I swore to my husband that I would never share my "secret" with another human being. See, it wasn't that I was embarrassed, or maybe it was, but this was my story to tell. It wasn't theirs.
As I mentioned, I am not always caught off guard. I have had people ask, in a group, and answered that we are "just waiting on God". Or "Its in his time". Or my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE, "Not right now, but we are sure having FUN TRYING!" You should have seen my Bible Study when I dropped the latter on them after venting about this very topic! I have never seen so many women blush in one place, and really I wouldn't consider them prudish.
As I mentioned, this is not a "shame on you", but really I ask that you take it more as a public service announcement. The weather is a good conversation starter. So is asking what they like to do in their time off. "When are you going to have kids" is basically stating "We know you're gettin' jiggy...when are we gonna see the results of it?"
Plus, consider that woman or man might be struggling inwardly and may not be ready to go public with it. When it is time, consider yourself to be a trusted confidant. Honestly, I have been living with this for 12 years. Some people in my life only realized our struggle when I began this blog. I have been open with it for roughly 7 years, however its not normally a conversation starter for me. Wait for them, they will tell you when they are ready.

Beauty from Ashes

You know, I am finding that while I am able to laugh at myself I am not sharing with you the beautiful side of my life. I am so blessed. I have been married to this wonderful man for 12 years. During the pain and the trials of this all, he has stayed beside me. At one low point I offered for him to leave me for a woman who was not broken and his response was that I was perfect for him.
He has always treated me like a princess and from day one has referred to me as his Princess. He has given me the ability to love myself regardless of what my body does or doesn't do. He is by my side even in my lowest points.
During these first few years, he supported me through career changes. He bought a house, because I wanted it. He took me on some of the most memorable camping trips (remember we're broke young kids) to Osoyoos in No. Eastern Washington and to a remote camping site (we're talking drive until you run out of pavement, turn off onto the dirt road, and drive 10 more miles) near Roslyn, WA.
He also supported me in the adoption of a fur-baby named Bernard. This was our third adopted dog, and finally the one that fit us forever (we had just over 9 years with him before he passed this last fall). What a joy to always have that face looking up at me.
As you can see, even through all the grief and drama of trying to conceive, I was truly blessed. I can't imagine having any other man stand beside me. No other human being understood me. Honestly I believe that no one would've tolerated me like he did. The good memories are there, and in time they overshadow the dark days...I promise.

The Monthly Torment

I shared a few days ago that we stopped trying. The irony of "not trying" is that without an agreement to continue the rest of your days celibate, you never really stop. Oh yeah, you stop charting, seeing your doctor monthly (or more often), taking pills, timing your rendezvous, etc. But there is always that glimmer of hope, at least there is in the early days.
I have had (self-diagnosed) Phantom Pregnancies. Please feel free to read into this that I have imagined random symptoms and let my mind run wild. I have had swollen/tender breasts around my period (yes, I know lots of women do) and sworn that I was pregnant. I also have had "morning sickness" symptoms, including hacking and occasionally vomiting. Lastly I have had on several occasions gone from having a cycle that works like clock-work (28 days on the button) to being up to 4 weeks late!
On each of these occurences I tried to reason with my psyche, "Look, you aren't pregnant...You aren't pregnant...You aren't pregnant." And told myself, "I will wait until I am xx days/weeks late, and THEN buy a pregnancy test." I have involved my husband, usually only on the times when I am LITERALLY LATE. He is much more level-headed than I am on these things.
Often what happens is that I have psyched myself (and him) out to the point where I FINALLY take a test or (on a more recent late period)called my doctor. Either of those instances is usually followed (within 24 hours) by my period. Eve's Curse. Aunt Flo. Whatever you want to call it.
As I mentioned, early on I got excited. I might have shared with a few close girlfriends. I started picking out names, yes I know its crazy. Then once I started, I would hit an all new low. Sometimes crying in the bathroom. Sometimes sending tearful texts to all who were excited with me. And often (early on) not knowing why we couldn't conceive.

The Dark Days: His Reaction

My poor husband, remember he is also 22 years old, had no clue how to handle me. He became distant, cut off, and wouldn't react when I'd get upset. I took this to mean indifference. He didn't take this as seriously as I did. Maybe he lied when he said he wanted children, maybe he couldn't care less about what I WAS GOING THROUGH! Seriously not the best year of our life together.
He later he shared with me that he had no clue how to respond to this emotional train-wreck of a wife. The woman who had taken residence in his happy bride. So his response became silence, because he felt like "as the man" he had to be the strong one. Deep inside he was hurting, broken hearted, and confused, but because of my own struggle with myself, I was unable to see his struggles.
After months and months of this, my husband finally told me that we had to let go of this...that the charting, meds, poking, and prodding had to end. He was obviously frustrated and angry. I agreed with him, not sure now if it was so simple, or if it was a Biblical "submit moment", or if I thought that I would continue on my own (because I am more hard headed and stubborn than a mule fighting to go to a poisoned watering hole). Regardless of why I agreed to stop, which I seriously cannot remember. We did. Just as quickly as it began, we stopped talking fertility with our doctors and charting. We gave up pushing for a baby and focused on loving each other, after-all we had a whole life and story to share with each other.

Fertility on Your Head

I feel like its time to talk of the silly stuff you do when trying to get pregnant. You READ EVERYTHING...and try to follow as much advise as is possible. I remember reading somewhere that sometimes sperm, which I shall lovingly refer to as "little sailors" (get it?), need the help of gravity. So for MONTHS I would toss my butt in the air and lay like that for 15-20 minutes after our rendezvous. Another thing I heard was that some women have a tilted uterus (missing the technical term, sorry) and laying on their back with their butt in the air doesn't work, so I tried (without any diagnosis of said tilt to my uterus) laying on my stomach-ish in the fetal position with my butt in the air, again.
Honestly, if I thought it would help I would've even tried standing on my head. Some of you knew me in grade school, and know that standing on my head was NEVER going to work. I am just not that talented, but I would've tried.
I often imagine an image that I read in a book (Empty Womb Aching Heart by Marlo Schalesky) that a woman spoke of. She had just returned home from church, and was telling her husband of the well meaning older women who had surrounded her, after I can imagine word of her struggles with infertility had gotten out. One older woman suggested she stand on her head, while another was telling her to "just go on vacation" because that is when she (older woman) had conceived her first child. After the young woman shared her horrifying experience with her husband, they had a moment of clarity and laughed about some of the suggestions. Their short story in the book is ended by her telling him that maybe those women were onto something, she should "stand on her head while going on vacation".
When I think of myself trying every wives tale in the book, I imagine that woman. On vacation, somewhere tropical, in her hotel room, CLOTHED, and standing on her head. That image has always brought a smile to my face and given me a moment of clarity. So when you, like me, are having trouble seeing the light at the end take a moment and imagine that woman. It might just give you the same clarity.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/0764224107/?tag=googhydr-20&hvadid=8819029627&ref=pd_sl_48unqihg5p_e

The Dark Days: My Tantrums

After charting for several months, and taking synthroid, my doctor felt that my body might need a little kick to help me ovulate. Like many women just starting on this journey I was put on Clomid. I have known SEVERAL women who were able to conceive successfully with just a couple of months of Clomid. Sadly, I was not one of them.
What I became was a whole other person. My poor husband was now dealing with a hormonal psychopath, who would fly off the handle at the littlest things. (Remember, I am roughly 22 at this point, so not really a "full-grown woman" yet and still coming into my own personality.) Let's not even begin discussing my mood swings during "that time of the month".
Okay, let's discuss them. When "Aunt Flo" came to visit, I would burst into tears and go into a deep depression. I struggled to deal with my day-to-day life and I would cry for hours on end...I would scream literally SCREAM at my husband as well as at God for not giving me what I desired. For God making me an inferior woman and for forcing this upon me.
If that wasn't bad enough, I dreaded going to baby showers, hearing about friends and family who were expecting, and Mother's/Father's Day. I remember laying across my bed screaming, cursing, and crying over birth announcements. I remember tearing up (or avoiding all-together) church on Mother's and Father's Day. I remember getting that age-old question of "When are you guys going to have kids". After a while I would shrug and say (with bitterness), "When God wants us to".

Living by the BBT

The BBT, or Basal Body Thermometer becomes a close friend of many during this journey. Every morning is began by reaching for the BBT the moment your eyes open. After taking your temperature you reach over for your trusty pen and chart to mark off your day's temperature with the corresponding day of your cycle (also marked with the date of the month).
The thought is that once you see a pattern of the temperature remaining the same for several days, and then a spike followed by a drop (running entirely on a 10 year old memory), you have an idea of your most fertile day. This is the more economical option to the ovulation test kits.

Your next goal is to "make a baby" on that day. After a month, or two, or three...this becomes more of a chore and less of a spontaneous act of love. I know for a fact that we are not alone in feeling this way. I have heard over and over again how couples try to keep the romance alive during this time. A new nighty, a spontaneous "date night" at a hotel, a special dinner, or anything to try to alleviate the work of what should be such a beautiful thing.
For us...this was the beginning of our stress. Gone was our spontaneity what followed was resentment and a feeling of responsibility to furthering a bloodline. In essence we felt like valued breeding livestock trying to perfect a science, not enjoying each other.
To add to this experience of responsibility of furthering our genetics, we had check-in visits with our primary care provider where he checked my thyroid levels and would ask for copies of our charts. After living by my daily body temperature for several months he suggested our next step.
**Image borrowed from http://infertility.about.com/od/tryingtoconceive101/tp/bbt_body_basal_temperature.htm

Family is in Your Heart

**Spoiler Alert** I am skipping forward.
Once we realized that we most likely would never have children of our own, we decided that we had too much love to share to stay childless. Since we both came from large families (I have 5 siblings and my husband has 8), it just didn't make sense to either of us to sit and mope. We had both known from an early age that we wanted to adopt, my husband at an earlier age than I, but because we are the average American household, we didn't have the finances to do so privately. Also because we were not exposed to others who had adopted, we were unaware of financing or fundraising options.
What we did have was a family in our church who fostered children, and had adopted a few. We approached them with some questions, and they pointed us in the direction of our local county foster agency. This was roughly 5 years ago when received our first packet of information. Honestly overwhelming didn't even begin to describe the paperwork in front of us. Roughly half-way through, we tossed it.
Roughly one year later, we contacted our local office again and signed up for the foster parent training course. We still didn't have our paperwork completed, but we wanted to have more information...Do we foster-adopt? Do we just adopt? What are our chances? What are we REALLY getting into? We had been told that since we didn't have children of our own, we would have a harder time adopting from foster care. Something to the affect of "You haven't proven that you can parent normal children, so the committee or caseworker will wonder if you have it to parent ours." Harsh? Yes, but truthful? I think so? In the end we chose to foster, to gain "experience" and possibly be able to adopt a child that we already have a relationship with.

The Initial Visit...

A year of "practicing" later and I approached my annual "physical". Since my regular doctor was out on vacation, I saw one of his partners who upon reading my pre-visit paperwork asked the question that has plagued me for years. "You don't take birth-control?!?" "No." "DO YOU WANT TO GET PREGNANT?!?!" -This question is always asked with some bewilderment as though I don't realize that NO BIRTH CONTROL could mean a BABY! I answered something to the effect of, "That would be nice", which was responded by a "How long have you been 'not preventing'". After I told her that it had been roughly a year, I was met with those sad eyes and informed that "after a year of unprotected sex you are deemed INFERTILE" but not to worry because "you are young" (I should note that I am a mature 21 at this point) and we could try some medications to "get things moving"...thus began my experience as the human pin cushion...
I should insert here that in all equality, I was not the only one who had tests. My husband also endured the basic man-test...to try to keep my marriage together, I will spare you (and him) with the details. Let's just leave it at "he checked out" and we'll go from there...
My first test was a simple blood test which confirmed that I had hypothyroidism. I began taking the synthetic hormone to offset my thyroids inefficient creation of that hormone. Did I mention that I stink at taking pills? But in this instance I had a goal...BABY, so I was diligent. After a few months and no baby, we took it up a notch.

Some History

Our journey began 12 years ago, almost to the day. My husband and I were YOUNG newly weds, I now ask myself "What were we thinking?!?" He was barely 20, and I was just shy of that mark, but we were in love. Don't misunderstand me, I love him wholeheartedly and cherish every day that we had together, but there was so much growing up that happened together those first years. Not to mention TONS of trial and error. But I digress...

Like most young people we thought that the next logical step was getting our Bachelor's degrees followed by our Master's. No, seriously, we thought that since we had crossed MARRIAGE off of our to-do list a baby was next! So on a wing and a prayer (roughly 6 months after marriage), we "stopped preventing" allowing God to take control of our fertility. (What a test that has been).

The Myth

I know some of you are looking at this Blog's title thinking..."This girl didn't pass health class or anatomy!" Let me assure you, I DID PASS. I am aware that this is not truth, but for the many women and men who dream of having a family, whose desire is to feel a life that they shared in the creation of within their own body or their partner's, this is TRUTH.
I am that woman. Not too long ago this statement was shared with me by my husband and when I was considering the title of this blog, it fit. My husband and I tried to have kids "the old fashioned way" for years, as far as doctors are concerned since we use no preventative measures now, we are still trying (I know TMI). However there is a point when "The Pregnancy Myth" becomes reality in your heart.
Heading back to our original conversation, it happened out of the blue. We were driving home, I couldn't even remember where from, and he looked at me saying, "Pregnancy is a myth. Its like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, it just isn't real." We continued our conversation about how we knew that it was real for others, our siblings, friends, and shoot even those that we might think shouldn't have kids, but for us it is something that we will (most likely) never experience. That conversation is one that I will never forget, not because my heart was broken...no that happened long before this point, when I left an unsympathetic Doctor's office (more on that story later), but because it was the truth. For the first time we were able to put words and a description to what we were feeling. In a weird way, that conversation opened our eyes up to each other and our souls.
Pregnancy is Just a Myth, this blog is where I will be posting (hopefully somewhat regularly) our story thus far. Our tears, and our joys. I will post some hurtful things said to us, and things that have encouraged us. Honestly, this will not be a feel good blog. If you haven't been on this journey it may make you uncomfortable. I am still going to encourage you to follow, because for a friend, relative, or an acquaintance pregnancy maybe a myth and my experiences may help you in understanding them. My hope is that through this we can learn together how to love more, listen more, and understand each other.