The Taboo

Written by Alli

Shortly after we moved into our home and had been trying to conceive for awhile,  I was visited by some women from my church.  We didn't know each other that well, so as we were talking, they asked if I had children.  I told them not yet (this had begun to be my standard answer).  Then one of the ladies asked me, "Is that by choice or because you can't?"  I was shocked.  Both of those questions were offensive to me since if I said it was by choice, I felt they would be judging me and if I said I couldn't, that was a very personal subject that I didn't feel comfortable discussing with some women I had just met.  As I was soon to find out, this question was relatively tame compared to what would happen once we told people we were going to adopt.

Once the word adopt was out there for everyone to know, it was like a license for people to say whatever they wanted to us.  Nothing was Taboo anymore.  Nothing.  When we told our family we were adopting, the first thing some of them said was, I could never give away one of my babies.  While this was hurtful, it was still at the beginning of the process, so we took some time to educate them on proper adoption language (placed vs. give up, expectant mom vs. birth mom, etc) and not let it hurt  us too bad.  However, as the time got closer, more and more people asked us if we were afraid the expectant mom was going to "change her mind" and keep the baby.  I got more and more frustrated.  What if I asked you when you were 32 weeks pregnant if you thought you were going to miscarry?  Can you imagine the look on people's faces?  Taboo.  You DO NOT ask a pregnant woman if she fears she will miscarry.  However, it was perfectly "acceptable" for them to ask us our most unspoken fear.  Of course we were nervous the expectant mom would choose to parent.  But that was her decision to make.  Please, please do not ask an adoptive mom that question, especially if it is at a celebration for the soon to be mom at say a baby shower.  This question again seemed tame once we had our son and were home showing him to our family.

We were showing off our 2 week old baby to our family and friends, and it was shocking to me the the number of people that said, "I don't know how she could ever have given him away".  Please, please do not say this to an adoptive mom that is FINALLY holding her very much wanted new born baby.  I was relishing in the joy and happiness of this little miracle and I thought my family and friends would too.  I was confused why anyone would say that.  Were they not aware that had our wonderful, beautiful birth mom not chosen to "give him away", I wouldn't be a mother at this very instant?  And don't even get me started on the phrase, "give him away".  This is not a possession she didn't want any more.  This is a human being, a person she loves very much and very lovingly placed in our arms.  This was a decision that took her many months of prayer and thought and she didn't choose to tell us until she knew this was her decision.  It wasn't a split second decision or in a moment of weakness.  This was a decision that was made out of strength.

But the one that still kills me most of all, is what happened a couple weeks ago.  We had just gotten back from a wonderful weekend with our son's birth mom.  It was incredible.  As I was telling my family about the trip, one phrase kept coming up, "I'll bet she wishes she kept him".  It's a good thing the first time I heard that, I was on the phone, because I had a hard time keeping the tears away.  The next time, I was still shocked, but at least I was able to hide my feelings.  Now, I can't speak  for Carter's birth mom, but she has mentioned on several occasions that she is so happy we are Carter's parents.  So each time someone would say this, I would explain to them how she was happy she placed him with us, how she knows he was meant to be in our family, and how she has been sure about her decision from the start.  I know they haven't had the confirmation we've had and they don't understand our connection and they aren't aware of the many miracles that led us to each other (maybe I'll share those one day).  But it still hurts.  A LOT.  By asking that question, you are saying that the most wonderful thing in our lives is the biggest regret in hers.

In all the above instances, I know none of those people were saying those things to be hurtful.  I know they all love and care for me.  But, if you know someone who has adopted, or someone that has placed, please, please do not take that as a license to throw all manners out the window and approach any topic you think is "acceptable".  Please think for one second if that question or statement could possibly be Taboo.

Since I only touched on a few of the adoption terms that shouldn't be said, the following video sums up the rest of the terms perfectly.  It's a hilarious watch and worth every second.

A Good Reminder

Written by Heather

My family has had a busy couple of weeks. We've been putting the finishing touches on our new home that we've been building since November and have been able to start moving in. So I haven't had a lot of free time to sit down and blog. My crazy 2 year old has also decided that sleep is unnecessary. He figured a way around the barricade I set up so he couldn't get out of his crib, so he's up bright and early in the morning, as well as all hours of the night and don't even get me started with the nap. So I haven't had a moment to myself to really form any sort of thought to share that doesn't involve legos, cars, or angry birds :) but, I came across this quote the other day and I felt that it related perfectly to my struggle with infertility. 

Infertility is one of the single most frustrating things I have had to deal with. It's easy to let the discouragement get to you. Even though I try really hard not to let it affect me, it does. I needed this reminder. This past week I was planning on getting my third IVF cycle started, but I just didn't feel ready. After doing two rounds back to back in which both ended with discouraging results, its been nice to have a couple months where I haven't had to worry about cycle days, running to  doctors appointments, and fertility meds and just be able to put my full focus on my family. Even though I know another baby would bring my family a lot of happiness, I just needed some time to not have to worry about all that and just be HAPPY :) Hopefully next month I'll feel a little more ready to dive back in.


Well, I'm off to find a bed since the L-man learned how to jump out of this barricade :) Obviously my baby doesn't belong in a crib anymore.

Empty Arms

Written by Rachel

To see my previous posts, click on the label 'Rachel' at the bottom of this post.

It was the middle of the night, maybe 3 or 4 in the morning, when I was moved hospital rooms.  So just before they moved me, we said our goodbyes to our babies.  We had opted for autopsies, only because it was a service the hospital was providing us, so the nurse prepared to take them as I held my babies one last time.  As she walked out of the room with Maddox and Sampson, I remember blowing them my final kisses and whispering 'I love you' as they disappeared around the corner.  It was a peaceful goodbye, but I had silent tears streaming down my cheeks, still numb from the idea that I would not be taking them home with me.  My heart ached that my babies were really gone.  Then, as they wheeled me to my next room, I had one of 'those' moments.  We were headed toward the area where I had gone to recover after I had my first little girl, where the sign read"Maternal Newborn Care".  But just as we approached those doors, we turned left, and I looked up at the sign and read "Women's Care".  No newborn.  I didn't have a baby that needed care anymore.  It was just me, myself, and I.  My stomach just sunk.

When morning finally rolled around, I was held in the hospital for monitoring since I had lost so much blood because of my placenta issues.  I was right on the border of needing a blood transfusion, so they wanted to see how my body handled itself throughout the day.  We filled out all the paperwork and started to read through all the grief handouts the hospital and the Share group had provided us to take home (Share also generously provided little packets of mementos and clothing the boys were dressed in).  But it was overwhelming, so we put it away and just waited.  I wasn't prepared to read that yet.  I was asked if I wanted to stay another night for monitoring, but since I hadn't passed out yet, they allowed me to leave that evening if I promised to take it easy and eat a lot of iron.  So, out we went.

And there came another of 'those' moments.  We packed up our things, and Matt pushed my wheelchair onto the elevator.  We rode down next to another woman in a wheelchair holding her newborn, preparing to load up into their car and start their lives together.  But not me.  I had nothing to show for my hospital visit.  I should have been holding my two babies in my arms, happily leaving the hospital with the excitement and anticipation of what raising newborn twins should bring.  But instead, my arms were empty.  I was overcome.  I cried as we walked out the hospital doors under the dark sky.  I cried as we pulled the car away from the dreary parking lot.  I was empty.  I'm not usually a crier, but leaving the hospital with empty arms opened up some floodgates I was not prepared for.  I was unprepared for how empty yet how heavy my heart could feel at the same time.

I tried to distract myself on the way home by reading all the texts people had sent while I was in the hospital.  I remember smiling at one my sister had sent, saying that when she had told her roommates we named our boys Maddox and Sampson, they told her those were awesome names, that they sounded like warrior names.  I also had a lot of sweet messages from people asking what they could do for me or sending me their condolences.

When we arrived home, I was overwhelmed with gratitude at the notes, flowers, and gifts that people had brought us and also grateful (and slightly embarrassed) that someone (later to find out it was Alli and another friend) had gotten a key to the house and cleaned it.  Even though everything was unnecessary, the fact that so many people cared about us and rallied around us brought so much comfort to my heart.  It's been one of those things that, as I've looked back on my experience, was one of the best life lessons I have learned through the whole thing.  The little things that people did for us to show their concern and love made a world of difference.  It inspired me to show more love and compassion towards others, whether it be through little gifts, small acts of service, or even just a hug or asking how someone is doing, just so they know I am thinking of them.  I am still grossly inadequate and often have good intentions with no follow through, but I have learned that the follow through can mean the world to someone, so that's been one of my resolutions to work on.  I'm a work-in-progress.

But now, Matt and I were home alone.  My mom had our little girl so we didn't have to worry about her.  It was just the two of us.  I didn't know what to expect of myself.  How was I going to handle this new me?  I had just lost two of the most precious things in the world to me.  Now what?  It was one of those times when I really didn't know how I was going to function.  Was I supposed to just live as if nothing bad had happened, like everything would go back to normal after a while?  Do I smile and act okay when I talk to people, or do I actually tell them how I'm feeling?  Do I keep to myself as I grieve or do I try to keep up with doing normal things?  As Brianna has mentioned on our Facebook page, I would quickly learn that there would be a new 'normal' I would have to learn to navigate.  I would now have my own taste of how a woman (and family) who loses a child continues on behind closed doors.

Leap of Faith Part II

Written by Brianna

To read part one click here.

Originally written, OCTOBER 10, 2012

Trying...

I would assume that most people reading this know how a baby is made, and I don't need to get into the real logistics there.  A little history on me would be that I have a mixed bag when it comes to my fertility.  It took me almost 18 months, and the help of medicine to conceive my first baby M.  My second baby J was with in three cycles.  Demree, my next pregnancy (6-week miscarriage), and Alex were all immediate.  By this point I thought my body had really figured out how to get pregnant, maybe not stay pregnant, but definitely get there.  I was mistaken.

It's all a little blurry because of how emotional I was at the time, but I went for two cycles "trying" on my own.  The first of which I was very casual about.  I really just wanted it to happen so I could place it all on the Lord's will, but like so often in my life the Lord wants me to express my free agency, and will hold me to being an active part in the route my life will take. Since I did not conceive on my first cycle like I had with my previous three pregnancies, I went more direct with ovulation tests.  When ovulation tests exposed that I was not ovulating I called my doctor.

Julia (my OB) had no problems with prescribing me a fertility drug to help me ovulate.  She assured me that neither drug had any connection with pregnancy loss.  She gave me the choice of Femara or Chlomid.  I went with Chlomid, because it was remarkable less expensive.  I tried this for two cycles... no pregnancy.  I was worried, even though my body was probably just trying to recover and needed more time, but not being able to conceive only seemed to magnify my grief and lack of control.  I called my doctor's office, and they strongly suggested I switch to the Femara.  Great I thought.  I had priced out Femara, and the cheapest I could find it was for approximately $252 for the ten pills I would need for this one cycle.  The thought of this made me sick inside, but I was leaping here so I agreed to it.  I went to pick them up at the Walmart Pharmacy, and I was already to throw up in my mouth when I was told my total and the pharmacy tech said I owed like $4.52.  I asked him to check again that he had the right person and prescription to which he did and confirmed what he said above.  I paid the man with a $5 bill, and left with my mouth wide open.  I even called the pharmacy again the next day to be sure they were not mistaken, and they weren't.  This was a true witness for me of one of the Lord's tender mercies.  I was thrown a little life line that some would consider insignificant, but for me it meant the world.  Also, for the first time on this journey I felt I was moving forward on the path I was meant to be on.

So the rest is history.  I took the Femara, ovulated, and had a positive pregnancy test two weeks later.  Now the real journey began.

Extra precautions...

When I found out I was pregnant I called my doctor's office so they could put me on low dose Heprin.  This is an experimental option I went with to insure I was doing everything possible to give this baby a chance.  Like my doctor told me, "no guarantees, but you have nothing to lose (by using the Heprin)".  Heprin should help to thin and increase blood flow to the placenta... healthy placenta equals healthy baby.  Also Heprin could help with any blood clotting agents that are thus far unknown to the medical world.  Heprin can only be dosed via injection, so that's what I do twice a day until I am 30 weeks along.  No it is not fun, and my stomach and thighs are bruised like I let small children treat me like a pinata, but it's the least I can do to give this baby every chance at making it. 

At first I went into the doctor every two weeks to check my progress.  Then it went to every week during my high stress, anxious weeks.  This last time I made it three weeks without going in!  I know that may not seem like much, but for me it is huge.  It helps that this baby is very active, and I can feel a lot of movement.  I still get anxious, but the baby moving gives me relief in between the moments of panic. 

Where we are now...

I just went to my 22 week target ultrasound appointment, and our baby looks wonderful.  Everything looks great, the heartbeat sounds great, and out baby is right on track for size.  We pray daily for a healthy baby that we can raise here in this life.  I guess when it comes down to it, as much as I love being in control I just had to give it up.  I have no control over what happens, and as much as that scares me, fear was not a good enough reason not to take this leap.  We love this baby come what may, and while we are hopeful... we know our family's fate is truly in the Lord's hands.  We love and appreciate all the prayers and support you all give us.  We feel of your comfort every day.  Thank you.

The rest of my pregnancy thankfully was not quite as anxiety ridden as those first twenty-two weeks.  I still worried ALL. THE. TIME.  Every night I would go to bed exhausted, from anxiety (and pregnancy), but feeling accomplished that I had survived another day, and kept this baby alive.  Every morning I would wake up with what felt like an elephant sitting on my chest due to the anxiety of not knowing what the day might bring.  I would wake up frequently in the night panicked that I hadn't felt the baby move in while.  Which of course I hadn't because I had been asleep, but logic is wasted on an irrational, grieving pregnant lady.  I can't tell you how much ice water and apple juice I drank, or how many prayers I offered up just to be able to feel another wiggle or kick.  Pregnancy after loss is exhausting, emotional, scary, and refining.  It took the little faith I had left (that of the mustard size seed variety), and all the hope I could work up.  It was all I had wanted for years, and I am eternally grateful that I again had the opportunity. 

On January 27, 2013, I was able to give birth to a perfect blonde haired, blue eyed baby girl.  I could gush for days about her, that moment, how she has helped me to heal, and the mother I am now... (big loving sigh)... but for now...

Loss

Written by Alli

When I was told it was highly unlikely I would ever conceive a child, the greatest feeling I had was one of loss.  I had to deal with this just like I had all my other losses.  I had to grieve.  I had to come to terms with the fact that I would not be able to experience something I’d always wanted.  I had to learn how to live with this loss.

Adoption is a wonderful, beautiful, amazing thing!  It brought us Carter and for that I am forever grateful.  But it doesn't help lessen the pain of never being able to experience the feeling of being pregnant.  It is one of the greatest miracles in the world and I will never get to be a part of it.  That is something I still struggle with.  It’s not every day, it’s not even that much.  But sometimes, when I hear someone is pregnant, I wonder what it feels like.  I wonder what it’s like to know you are making a human being, to feel that baby inside you.  I wonder what it's like to feel it kick and move.  I wonder what's its like to give birth. These are all things that I’ll most likely never experience and that causes me sadness.  

Infertility is something I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my life.  It’s something I might grieve again and again.  But I've learned that with my infertility comes strength.  With my infertility comes growth.  And most importantly, with my infertility comes miracles.  

You've Got Your Hands Full

Today we are lucky to have Jenny with Our Not So Engineered Life guest posting.  We became friends through the blogging world and we are so excited for her to be our first guest post.  Enjoy!

You’ve Got Your Hands Full

Motherhood is exhausting, yet rewarding.  It is the hardest thing you will ever do.  It will reveal more to you about yourself than anything else you will ever do or become.  There are days you want to throw in the towel, days you feel like an utter failure, and days where you feel like a super hero.  Those are the days (each and every one of them) that I wanted to have so badly.

As Ethan surpassed the two year mark and started to make his rite of passage into full blown toddlerhood, I began to get comments or “looks” a lot when we were in public.  You know the ones – “you’ve got your hands full,” “he’s ‘active’”, “he’s got SUCH a great vocabulary (meaning he won’t be quiet)”.  All moms are well aware of these comments.  (If you aren't, then I would love to meet you and your perfectly behaved child and get some tips.)  Or you get the glares that burn right through you like molten hot lava.  The kind of glares that within seconds make you feel like you are an utter failure as a mother and have no control over your own children.  As if you aren't exhausted enough and trying to hold it all together long enough for a quick stop at the grocery store to get your bananas and milk and leave before they start begging for EVERY.SINGLE.ITEM you pass by. We are not failures and we are all in the same boat of motherhood that is sometimes rocking along on rough seas giving us sea sickness.  But God entrusted us – He handpicked us – to be the mommies of these precious angels.  So amidst the tantrums, public meltdowns, parenting advice from complete strangers, various backhanded compliments, and glares that give us those “Calgon take me away!” moments, we have the privilege and joy of molding these little beings into what God predestined them to become.  Wow!

A couple of months ago I got the “you have your hands full today” comments from a random stranger in line behind me and Ethan at Chick-Fil-A.  It was one of those days that Ethan was being a little overly excited about the meal.  I mean, who can blame him – their nuggets are the best!   And I’m convinced that is what Jesus will feed us every day in heaven (except Sundays of course).  But the lady, who was very sweet and my elder by several years, meant no harm in her comment and was brightly smiling at him – thereby feeding his little 2-1/2 year old ego that needed not an ounce of help.  All I could do was smile back and say “yes ma’am, he is a handful sometimes.”  And in that moment I realized yes I do have my hands full.  All the comments and glares of those same words came rushing to me and I went from feeling inadequate to grateful and praising God that my hands were finally full.

There were five long and heartbreaking years that my hands weren't full, yet wanted nothing more.  I longed for the diaper changes, crying, and sleepless nights that so many were talking (some complaining) about.  I even longed for the days we now have that seem are full of tantrums or non-stop strong willed moments from a toddler.  I wanted a messy house.  I wanted to step on legos with bare feet and fall to my knees in pain. Because all of it would mean that we had a child of our own.  There was never a time that I wasn't happy for a friend or family member who had a baby.  But there were many times that I did question God and why it seemed so easy for some, yet so hard for others like me.  And there were many times that I would go home and cry after baby showers because I felt like that would never be me.  I wanted to have the tiny onesies, bibs, and diapers.  Not because I wanted those “things” but I wanted what those “things” represented – a newborn baby.  There was a tremendous amount of heartache and emptiness that I felt.  I would go visit friends and family who had newborns and hold them, soaking up that precious baby smell.  And time after time, would leave feeling so empty handed. 

I won’t write here in detail about how we came to have our hands full.  But I do encourage you to read Our Adoption Journey post and the miracles surrounding Ethan and his birth.  After five long years of struggles, procedures, and negative pregnancy tests Ethan was born on August 8, 2011.  I cherish every “I love you,” hug, kiss and I cherish every mess, tantrum, and strong willed moment that renders me exhausted.  I even cherish those comments and glares from strangers when we are having a “moment.”  It means my hands are finally full.

We are all in different points of our journey.  We are there for a reason.  Some who are beginning and some, like me, on the other side of their journey who are there to encourage the beginners. Some who, like me, have never experienced pregnancy and some who have had failed pregnancies.  There are moments filled with  anxiety, sadness, and emptiness that seem to never end.  And there are also moments of hope and faith of the joy of motherhood that awaits you. No matter where we have been or are, we share the same heart wrenching pain and longing to have our hands full. 

I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. – 1 Samuel 1:27

Jenny is a former engineer, now stay-at-home wife and mom.  She co-writes for the Our Not So Engineered Life Blog with her dear friend, Courtney.  They began their blog to encourage others struggling with infertility and to share their stories about life.

Money Comes and Goes, But Family is FOREVER

When we made the decision to give IVF a shot, we were pretty certain it was going to be a one shot deal. The costs of doing a fresh IVF cycle are pretty high and in the end you're not even guaranteed a baby. That's one of the hardest parts of IVF. Putting your faith in something that you know may or may not work. But the thing is, I can't think of anything better to spend our money on. While other people are spending their money on fun toys and vacations, ours is going into growing our family. And I'm fine with that and hopefully in the end it will work for us.

After we learned that our first attempt at IVF failed, I was crushed. I felt we had just played our last card and lost big time. We didn't know if financially, another cycle was possible. I remember sitting with my husband, looking at pictures and videos of our two little boys on our phones, when my husband turned to me and said, "we have to try again, we need another baby." That along with my 6 year old begging me to try just one more time :) I think he's as baby hungry as I am! .


These two little guys:

(click picture to view video)

are the reason I will try whatever I can to have another baby.