The Adoption "Gestational Period"?

I’ve spent over a year participating in and listening to the SMC-Trying to Conceive (TTC) forum. I even had my own failed attempt at TTC in March 2009. Then work, school, and dating postponed my plans until a year later. In March 2010, I began to consider adoption, an option I had explored before but ignored once I found Mr. Perfect Anonymous Donor and built up the courage (and money) to TTC. But once I really delved into the adoption choice again, it seemed very feasible and appropriate for where I am in my life. Plus, I thought it might be "easier"than TTC.

On the SMC-TTC board, I had read other women’s journeys through infertility and fertility treatments and miscarriages to finally bringing home a newborn sometimes years later. Well, now that I’m pursuing adoption, I realize the adoption journey isn’t exactly "easier", just different than TTC. There are many preparations and hurdles along the way. These unique challenges don’t involve reproductive endocrinologists (REs), but they do involve social workers, wire nuts, and a lawn crew. I’ll explain....

What I’ve found unique to the adoption process are the REQUIREMENTS that your home, emotional well-being, and finances be in order. Women who are trying to conceive are not scrutinized in this way. For example, women who conceive through reproductive technologies are not required to submit their driving record and proof of homeowners insurance. It’s not that their challenges are any easier, just different from the SMC-Adopters. However, the parities still exist. I liken the adoption waiting period to a gestational period. A pregnant woman might wonder if her baby will have her blue eyes, while I’m wondering which race my future adoptive children will be. A pregnant woman may be attending birthing classes while I’m going to CPR training.

So, I have decided to pursue foster-to-adopt through the U.S. Child Welfare System. In April 2010, I took two weeks of pre-service parenting classes. I loved it! I think all moms-to-be, including those TTC and Adopters, should consider parenting classes. But here’s the kicker; adopters who receive children through the foster care system must promise to discipline by the system’s standards. This includes no spanking. This is not a problem for me since I’m a staunch opponent to spanking; but for a few others in my class, it made them feel like they are being told how to parent. And well, they are.

Another challenge unique to adoption is the home environment requirements. Each state in the U.S. is different, but here are some of the things I’ve had to fix/change/BUY for my house to be compliant in Texas: fire extinguisher, new smoke detectors, lock boxes for medication, moved all cleaning supplies to upper cabinets, outlet covers, waterproof mattress covers, anti-siphoning devices for the outside spigots, "re-homed" one of my dogs because I had one too many for the city limit, pet vaccines, CPR training, first aid training, home health inspection, home fire inspection, post daily schedules, post house rules, post evacuation plan, trash cans with tight fitting lids, replaced a piece of rotten siding, hired lawn guys to mow on a regular basis, covered up tree roots in the backyard, replaced a ceiling fan that would have interfered with the bunk bed I erected (this is where I learned about wiring and wire nuts), researched daycares that accept state reimbursements, and I just bought an SUV to replace my two-door coupe. (OK, that last one wasn’t a necessity for adoption, but fun anyway!)

To add to the list of requirements, I had to provide three personal references, a break-down of my monthly expenses, TB test, auto insurance, homeowners insurance, transcripts, proof of income, pictures of my house and neighborhood, driving records, fingerprints for FBI criminal background check, and a child abuse background check. And then there’s the dreaded HOME STUDY. I had heard horror stories about probing questions you’d never be prepared to answer. For me it actually wasn’t bad, but some people really stress over it. Sometimes it seems like having a doctor inseminate me might be a lot less work! It’s not like your ER is going to make sure your smoke detectors have batteries before your IUI! I jest, of course!

The point of all this is that I have developed an appreciation for the adoption process and the people who have succeeded in adopting. Despite the mountain of paperwork, I feel that all the requirements are necessary. And in a way, the time spent fulfilling those requirements parallels the gestational period of women who conceive. The adoption process forces people to consider and prepare for all the things one needs to consider and prepare for when a new child is brought into a family. I think that sometimes the adoption process is minimalized in comparison to pregnancy. However, it doesn’t have to be that way; and for those of us going through it and those who made it through know it is an important time. I hope that years down the road, I’ll look back on this time and reflect on it like a woman who conceives might remember her pregnancy...except I don’t have to buy expandable pants and shea butter!

Allison, 30, Texas, waiting.....

Grieving a Bio Child

As I sit here writing, my house is filled with baby items from friends and freecycle. All I need is a baby. At least now I have hope—I’m on an adoption waiting list. But what a long journey it has been…

I became a thinker and joined SMC at age 39. People encouraged me to move forward, but I was stuck. I wanted a husband, then kids—the traditional family. At 40, I met someone I hoped could be Mr. Right, who turned out to be Mr. Autonomy Issues. At 41, I broke it off. I was devastated. I went into a depression, sought counseling and was stuck—I wanted biological kids, but I also wanted a traditional family. I kept thinking.

Looking back, I see how uneducated I was about fertility for women in their 40s. Despite the many women in the news having children well into their 40s, I didn’t know these women used donor eggs—not their own. So, with my eggs growing older by the day, I continued thinking.

Finally at 42 (and 10 months), I made what I thought was the most difficult decision of my life—to try to conceive on my own. I passed fertility tests with flying colors, but after seven tries—IUIs and IVFs—I had low egg quantity/quality. I had another difficult decision to make: Should I keep trying with my eggs? I had to think about finances, my age (43 and a half) and my desire to be a mom—how would I feel if I found myself six months later, age 44, still not pregnant?

I went to the counselor and grieved and grieved. All my dreams down the drain—my desire for a husband with three biological kids. All those years of envisioning my children, who they would take after—my mom, my sister, my brother? My connection to my heritage. It was one of my darkest hours.

But my desire to be a mom pushed me forward. I weighed donor egg vs. adoption. Donor egg seemed like an easier route. I picked a donor and did my first cycle at 44. Cut to me a year and a half later—three miscarriages and an inability to carry to term due to an immune issue. The first two miscarriages were devastating. By the third, I’d selected an adoption agency and knew if the pregnancy didn’t take, I’d immediately move on.

Last July, after learning my final pregnancy wasn’t viable, but before the actual miscarriage, I contact the adoption agency. They were enthusiastic at a time I needed enthusiasm. I was exhausted—2.5 years of fertility treatments, disappointments, miscarriages, poking/prodding and money out the door—all for nothing.

I did my home study and got on the waiting list in September 2009. I’m excited about adopting. With adoption I will be a mom. With fertility treatments, it was a crapshoot. Moving to adoption was a relief—no more needles, doctor appointments, miscarriages, disappointments, hormones. I could live my life more normally while I waited, although I have moments of grief that sneak up on me.

I try not to be bitter. Everyone has her own journey. I just never thought I’d have such a long road to motherhood. I believe God has a plan for me, even if I can’t see it. I date, trying to find someone to share my life with and be a father to my children. I keep busy while I wait for my match. I’m now 46 and, although I sometimes can’t believe it, this circuitous route to motherhood is my story.

Leslie C

Child of my dreams

To the Child of My Dreams:

Since I was a very young child I’ve dreamed of holding you in my arms….looking into your face and seeing some of myself in you…watching you grow and develop some of my characteristics (good ones, hopefully). It seems now that that will not be the case, and I am extremely sad about that.

I’ve tried so hard to create you, but my body will not cooperate. Each of the nine times that I’ve tried, I could sense your presence with me…your little soul ready to come into being. I’ll never understand why it could not happen for me. Each time I was devastated and cried because I felt I had really lost you…even if you were only in my dreams.

Now it seems that I will say goodbye, but only to part of my dream. I need to mourn the loss of a biological connection to you. But, in the scheme of things, is that really such a big deal? So you may not have the same color eyes as I do, your hair may not be the same color as mine, but you will have the same amount of love from me…that’s a guarantee!

I hope to carry you inside of me…you have been given to me out of great kindness from a couple who has experienced the same devastation and loss that I have. I have to believe that somehow, someway, your soul will find its way to me…otherwise I don’t know how else I will find happiness again. Like the words from the song, “Somewhere, out there, if love can see us through. Then we’ll find one another, in that great somewhere out there.” I love you and always will, even if you are not to be!
Mommy

"Good Lord"

And Baby Makes 2

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her I was trying to have another baby with my husband. “You haven’t even recovered from your other 2 baby losses. And all you do with your husband is fight. You don’t even seem to like him.”

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her about all the infertility things I was now going through again, for a third time. The mood changing Clomid, every diet known to increase fertility, 2x a week acupuncture, awful tasting tea made by a Chinese only Chinese pharmacy in Chinatown, and lots of lots of awful, awful timed sex, timed with the very best in $299 ovulation predictor kits. “Are you sure you want to put yourself through this now? I think you should SLOW DOWN you’re not even 35 yet. And you and your husband are not getting along.”

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her I told her I was preg yet again.
And, “good luck,” she added. “I think we should increase the amount of time we see each other to 3 days a week”.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I called her, hysterically crying. I had had yet another miscarriage.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I called her, hysterically crying that my husband was being a complete ass in couples therapy and was refusing to try to have another baby with me even though it was now 3 months later, we had agreed to try again, and here it was that exact time on the calendar we should be trying and I wanted that baby more than anything and he knew it.

“Maybe it’s a good idea he won’t?” she ventured. “I think you should concentrate on your marriage before tying again. A baby won’t fix everything and it might only make things worse. Imagine, if you have a baby with him, you’ll be stuck fighting for custody until the child is 18 at least if you can’t make things work. Imagine his mother, [my words: the chain smoking, mean, Tom-Brokaw loving, rambling, passive-aggressive, jealous, possessive, borderline alcoholic], watching your child”.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
When I told her I was going to get divorced and I was going to have a baby by myself. I had already chosen who/what/where and everything. “You’re moving too fast. You should SLOW DOWN!!”

“I’m so happy for you”, said my therapist
when I told her I had done all I said I would and that now I was pregnant.
What more was there for her to say?
She said yay throughout my pregnancy and yay when the baby was born. Yay to my taking care of her and yay for what I was doing.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her my father died suddenly and I was moving from NYC back to Miami Beach to be closer to my remaining family.
“Do you really think it’s a good idea for you to live with your mother?”
I’m not sure I said, but it’s the best option I have.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her how I was balancing a hectic job as an advertising writer with a 1 hour drive to work from where I live, living with my mother, getting annoyed at my mother, rushing home everyday to be with my daughter for as long as I could, caring for one noisy cat, freelancing, trying to get caught up on getting manuscripts to my agent, comparing myself to my seemingly perfect stay-at-home mom sister with 2 kids who married a doctor and my other work-at-home sister who just had a baby and 2 months later looks like she was never pregnant at all, and living in a city where the people I was meeting in the park couldn’t fathom the possibility of happiness and hope in the single mom thing. They think I’m either going to try and steal their husbands or the fate of being single/divorced with baby will rub off, like a disease.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her I was doing JDate.
“You really should STOP, REFLECT and WAIT until you adjust before embarking
on a relationship.”

“Good lord”, said my therapist
when I told her I now had a boyfriend I actually liked.
“SLOW DOWN!!! You don’t want to rush into things.”
I told her I wasn’t. I was enjoying myself.

“Good lord”, said my therapist
make sure you use birth control.

“Good lord,” I said.
“I can’t believe I’d get pregnant that easy, not after all I’d gone through to
get the one I have!”

And, here I am. Not pregnant at the writing of this!

Aimee Heller