Love your comments about the film, Away We Go. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see the end, I was too tired. I’m pretty darned sure I would not have attempted to get pregnant after adopting 4 kids. I’m sure people do it though. Trust me, there were a few people who said, oh, you’ll probably get pregnant now! Hahahaha! Adoption as a cure for infertility? Hey, why not just hang that out there so I NEVER GIVE UP THE DAMN DREAM!
When I decided to adopt, I was pretty much done with trying – my “advanced maternal age” and all. No more hormones, no more expensive ovulation kits, no more timed sex. Hah, no more sex! I stopped keeping track of my periods, and somehow having sex seemed empty. I have mentioned this ages ago, but I had the last of my eggs placed inside my uterus in an unmedicated cycle. I was just done. We both were. I just didn’t want my eggs to stay frozen year after year after year. Why? Why not let them expire inside of me? Hence, my moniker. So when the inevitable BFN arrived, I had to truly come to terms that I would never be pregnant, never experience childbirth, never get to see the child that would be part me, part him. No cute maternity clothes, no belly shots, no birth announcements in the paper. There would be no friends surrounding us with flowers and balloons in a hospital room; DH would never get to hand out the cigars, we wouldn’t have a birth video to record his arrival. All the stuff I had fantasized about for years.
What made it worse was that once I truly understood understood what adoption entailed, I grieved all over again because now the process was public. When we had talked about adopting years ago, it was all theoretical. We had no idea of what it really meant. True, I didn’t have to spread my legs anymore for the inspections and procedures, but I had to reveal myself to social workers, lawyers, receptionists, even the Kinko people when we made our profiles. Hey look everybody, we’re begging for a kid!
The fantasy I had of me and DH in a hospital room in half light with our little one on my chest was gone. I had to answers questions, be fingerprinted, deplete my life savings, PROVE my worth (or so it felt) and WAIT. AND WAIT. AND WAIT. And then of course the fact that another woman had to let go of the child she had given birth to, carried around inside of her for 9 months and leave empty handed in order for me to be a mother. I was grateful, but it made me sad. When all eyes were on me, I demonstrated absolute resolve, calmness and my mouth made the words coming out make sense. People said congratulations! I smiled p0litely to the gatekeepers along the way from the social worker to the courthouse to the customs officers. And when I came home, I sobbed out of sheer relief.
I was not in the position to “try again”. I get it universe, this is my path, and it occurs to me that I may have been saved from a worse fate. The real miracle is that I no longer yearn for a child part me/part him. The Precious looks up at me with his big eyes and he wipes away all thought of what could have been and embraces me in the present. This is his gift to me.