3 Thoughtful Ways to Support a Friend Struggling With Infertility

If you've been reading my blog for any amount of time, you know that my husband and I struggle with infertility. We learned of it over six years ago since then have added to awesome school-aged kids to our family via foster-adoption. But I tell 'ya--infertility is freaking terrible. I've got a few friends now who have struggled with it or who are in the middle of their struggle, and I just hate it. I hate infertility, and I hate the insensitivity and lack of awareness in our culture today despite how prevalent it is. So, after talking with a friend who is currently battling these insensitive comments, I wrote this piece. It was posted on Parent.Co this week, so here's a teaser:

"Chances are, someone in your social circle is struggling with [infertility]. Studies show that, “Close to one in six U.S. couples don’t get pregnant despite a year of trying – after which doctors typically recommend evaluation for infertility….”  Most people, especially in the early stages of infertility, won’t wave their infertility banner high. They may not even whisper this fact to their closest family and friends.

My husband and I struggled quietly and carried the load by ourselves for nearly two years. We endured negative pregnancy tests each month and a barrage of medical testing on our own as we struggled to accept our assumed infertility. You may not know for certain if one of your friends or family members is struggling with infertility, but you probably have a hunch. Once we mustered up the courage to share the news about our infertility with those close to us, many commented they suspected we’d been struggling with this.

Whether you know for a fact, or you simply believe that someone close to you may be struggling with infertility, there are things you can do to help folks walking this precarious road..." Click here to read the full post! 

I Don't Have a Birth Story To Tell You

Note: This piece originally appeared on Scary Mommy. It was a difficult piece to write, but as with all of my writing--it's one that I hope reaches those who need it. Here's a teaser:

I don't have a birth story. There are no sweet post-birth photos or memories of my husband gazing at me in admiration, in awe of the incredible act of childbirth. Perhaps our children's adoption days will be that moment for my husband, but those moments feel so ordinary and less monumental than the physical birth of a child. 

I worry that when the chaos of life bites down on us, during those times when I lose my shit--when I'm folding mountains of laundry, bra-less, in my pajamas at 6 PM--I worry my husband will look at me see just a woman, bra-less, in pajamas, folding laundry, not one who  braved searing pain to give him the greatest gift outside of grace. I fear he won't have a defining moment to look back on to revive his sense of love for me when I'm at my worst... Click here to read more! 

My Little Black Dress: A Story of Adoption and Heartbreak

Note: I've been busy lately submitting work for publication. One of my posts that originally appeared on this blog was published a few weeks ago on Sammiches & Psych Meds. While it's not getting the views that some of my other pieces are getting, this is one post I'm most proud of mostly because it articulates a moment that I didn't let break me. Here's a teaser of the post:

My husband always wanted to be a dad, and I wanted to be the person who would give him that desire. But after years of trying to conceive and then an eventual medical diagnosis of infertility--one that loomed like an ironic scarlet letter--we decided to pursue infant adoption. We waited for a year before we got the call--the one that every potential adoptive parent hopes for each time his/her phone rings. There was a birth mom. She picked us. Baby boy was due in three months. There were three potential fathers. Legal risk. Could she meet us? We were hesitant and thrilled at the same time; of course we didn't say no to meeting her....Click here to read more. 

My little black dress

My husband had always wanted to be a dad, and I wanted to be the person who would give him that desire. But after years of trying to conceive and then an eventual medical diagnosis of infertility--one that loomed like an ironic scarlet letter--we decided to pursue infant adoption. We waited for a year before we got the call--the one that every potential adoptive parent hopes for each time his/her phone rings. There was a birth mom. She picked us. Baby boy was due in three months. There were three potential fathers. Legal risk. Could she meet us? We were hesitant and thrilled at the same time; of course we didn't say no to meeting her.

Over the course of the next three months, we spent time with this birth mom building a relationship. We took her out for meals, answered every text message and email she ever sent, ignored every quirk, honored her seemingly bizarre requests (like what we would wear to the hospital to see the baby for the first time), prayed like crazy that this would work out, and even began building relationships with her grandparents and her aunt (who all raised her). My husband and I and the birth mom picked the baby's name--Micah Aaron. We got a call sometime during the week of Father's Day letting us know that the Micah was born and a father was identified. During the month we had to wait for the birth father's rights to be terminated, Micah was placed in temporary foster care. One week after he was born, we met him for the first time.

I don't normally wear dresses, but I bought a dress specifically for the occasion. It was a plain black dress.

Not me...not my dress; but it's a nice pic, eh?

Image source

A sleeveless cotton number with a cinch around the waist and pockets--a practical dress for a new mom. Dressy enough to wear to a nice dinner but casual enough to wear to all the farmer's markets I'd obviously be taking my new baby to. Remaining guarded, my husband snapped a single photo of me in my plain black dress holding Micah for the first and only time.

Off her medication for too long, our birth mom ended up in jail. She retaliated by refusing to sign the relinquishment papers. The caseworkers tried to reason with her, her family tried to to talk with her--but nothing changed her mind. She stayed in jail, Micah stayed in foster care, and we were left with nothing but grief, broken dreams, and a stupid, black sleeveless cotton dress.

I don't want to get into how numb I felt for a good year, how it took me two years before I felt strong enough to hold another baby, how many times in that first month I cried myself to vomiting (5), or how many Google searches I have done (4) since then to try and track down our birth mom or her son. Slowly and painfully, we picked ourselves up. It took me about a month to delete the picture I had of him with me. Strangely, though, deleting the picture wasn't as difficult as getting rid of my dress. I couldn't give it up. The dress was appropriately colored and became a symbol of mourning for me. I wore it several times in the months following our failed adoption, and each time I put it on, I cried and prayed that God would protect little Micah.

Nine months after I wore it for the first time and held the baby who was almost ours, the dress had become so faded that I had to give it up. It was the last remaining connection I had to Micah, but one night, determined to move on, I dropped off the plain and black sleeveless cotton dress at a Goodwill. I expected to cry but was surprised at my sudden display of strength as I dropped my dress in the donation bin. I walked away empty handed--a feeling I knew well. Only this time...this time I was empty handed on my own terms.

Hey! I have two kids

It hit me tonight that I have two children. It's a little late for the revelation, I realize. But I guess I've been so overwhelmed with scheduling doctors appointments and therapy sessions and helping K and J adjust to school and a new family that I haven't really taken much time to think about it all. I don't really know what it was about tonight that sparked a sudden epiphany. Maybe it was because Nate was gone at a show choir competition, so I parented solo (quite the handful with two five year olds!). Or maybe because tonight might have been the first night that the kids did not fight at all...it really was quite amazing. They talked about school in the car on the way to violin, they laughed through dinner, they wrestled and giggled underneath the kitchen table, and K helped J cut his hair tonight while I stepped out of the room for literally 30 seconds. I've always wanted two kids and for so long, this dream felt out of reach. All of the struggles with infertility and our failed adoption have been worth it though I never thought they would.

Sensitivity on Mother's Day

As a teenage girl, I didn't dream up my wedding; I dreamed up my life as a transient, bohemian actress/writer who was married to a music teacher (this is no joke) and had a hippy daughter named something like Echo who wore mismatched clothes. While this fantasy wasn't realistic, after I married Nate (a music teacher!), I hung on dearly to the last part of the fantasy: having a daughter...which quickly translated to a desire of simply having a child. Each failed attempt stung more than the previous. After a few months of marriage, people began asking when we'd have kids. We'd respond with the obligatory: "Whenever God wants us to." One of our acquaintances even said, "Having kids isn't that hard, you know..." I reigned in my desire to sucker-punch this guy in the teeth. The final blow for us came at a doctor's office in North Platte when we heard we would likely never have children. I remember wandering out of the office, my body numb. Nate and I drove to a nearby lake despite the day being cold and appropriately dreary. He sat on a picnic table while I sat on the cold sand. We both stared into oblivion. The sobbing eventually came. What was my purpose now? I was a married woman...by society's standard, married women are supposed to have children. Now what do we do, I thought?

Eventually we moved on, but each Mother's Day opened the wound of infertility. While I hate to say it, church made it worse. Pastors calling for moms to stand and be recognized in a thunderous round of applause, pastors handing out flowers or candy bars to moms, a special sermon for mothers....I spent these moments sobbing violently in church bathroom stalls. Eventually Nate and I just stopped going to church on Mother's and Father's Day. While I value the work mothers do (even more now that I am one), this action meant to celebrate also alienates many women--women who can't have children, don't want to have children, have had children but lost them, etc. I do believe moms should be recognized but not at the expense of others. I ran across this blog this morning that offers a suggestion for recognizing the "wide continuum of motherhood." The list does not, I'm sure, recognize every possible scenario, but does honor a wider variety of women.

This Mother's Day is different for me: I am a mom to a beautiful little boy who I thank God for every day. But I still remember the pain of the day--my prayer today is for kids without moms, for the women who desperately want children but don't have them, for the women who don't desire children and seem to be outcasts in society, and for moms doing the tough work of raising kids in a broken world. I pray this day would not be painful, but would be a celebration of the women in our lives or in history (whether they are moms or not) who have come before us to shape who we are and what we stand for.

Week two of ten

We're approaching week three of our ten week training to be licensed foster parents. It's been an overwhelming two weeks. In fact, on my way home from our last meeting, I cried my eyes out. I cried for the biological kids we'll never have, I cried for the little boy we lost in August, I cried for the thousands of kids in our state who experience the trauma of being removed from their homes for whatever reason. I cried because I don't know how a ten week course will prepare us to be foster parents or adoptive parents. I cried because of the overwhelming amount of paperwork we still have to fill out before our meeting on Tuesday. It was a blurry drive home.

This week we read horrifying case studies of kids that simply heartbreaking, and then we were given 15 minutes to analyze and write up what we felt these kids need based on their history. I felt almost paralyzed as the rest of my group began chatting and assessing their needs. I just read the four sentence profiles over and over again and thought to myself, How the hell am I supposed to figure what these kids need in 15 minutes?! How will I ever be ready to be a foster parent?! 

I know this isn't a real-life scenario; we'll have a little longer than 15 minutes to figure out how to meet a kid's needs. But it will be high pressure like this scenario. And how does a person even prepare for this? How can a 10 week course prepare me to parent a child who potentially has several layers of trauma? The class left my head spinning, my heart racing, and the questions scrolling through my mind. I didn't sleep well that night.

In the last few days, we've chipped away at some of the paperwork. In addition to background checks, health forms,  and miscellaneous release forms, we each had to answer a packet of questions about our family history and personal life. Because I'm a writer, this quickly turned into four single-spaced typed pages of responses. We still haven't had time to sit down and fill out the packet about our relationship or write a letter to potential biological families and foster children. That's our task for tomorrow; it's daunting to say the least. Once we submit this paperwork, then we'll move onto the family consultations (I think that's what they call them), where they inspect our home (ours might be a little delayed since we won't be able to move into our new home...yes...I said NEW HOME!...until May 23rd) and then interview us. I think we have at least three of these meetings...

It's been a long week. I think stress gave me the flu; I had a fever from Wednesday night until Thursday night and just felt miserable for 24 hours. Nate and I want so badly to be parents. It's been awhile since I last asked God why He has us going about it in such a non-traditional, uncomfortable, and sometimes downright painful way...but in the last five days, this question has spilled out. Tonight as I wrestled with our infertility and failed attempt at adoption, I felt led to this verse:

So to keep me [Paul] from becoming proud, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud. Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. That's why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong." --2 Corinthians 12: 7-10

I haven't yet been able to boast about my weakness or trials, and I definitely haven't learned to take pleasure in these troubles, but the bolded lines bring me great comfort. Though it's painful to submit entirely to God's will for our family (which means letting go of the fear, the doubt, and the pain of infertility), I'm glad that I can rely on God's grace and power to hold me up when I'm weak. I'm exhausted right now, but I'm looking forward to what God's going to teach us and bring us along the way. 

Adoption update

As we get closer to buying a house, we grow more anxious to expand our family. Since our failed placement in August, we have not heard anything from our agency about potential adoptions. We've only been on the list of available adoptive parents for a year and a half, but we've been trying, waiting, and hoping for kids for nearly five years. It's been a long wait. Over the past few months, Nate and I have talked more and more about the question we've been avoiding for five years: What if we are never presented with the chance to adopt a baby? Then what? Our desire is to be parents, so what do you do with that desire when it seems almost totally out of reach?

Over the past few years we've peeked at a local agency's website that contains photos and profiles of kids in Nebraska who have been in the foster system but are now available for adoption. Typically these kids are older (the average age seems to be about 11) and many of the kids on the website come with siblings that must all be placed with the same family. Last week we made contact with a woman through this agency to see what we needed to do if we were interested in adopting one or more of these kids. She responded promptly and gave us all the steps we needed to take...the first step is to become licensed foster parents. After some praying and researching, we've decided that we will take this first step. Even if we don't adopt one of the kids from the above agency, there are lots of kids in Nebraska who need stable, loving temporary homes. That's something we can provide, so why wouldn't we?

Nate and I have been thinking and praying about this a lot this week. We've wondered if we should stay in the adoption pool and just become foster parents while we wait; we've wondered if we should take ourselves out of the adoption pool for now and pursue adopting one or more of the kids who are ready for adoption...it's a lot to think about, really. When most couples get married, they assume they'll have a few babies to raise. Most couples don't imagine themselves facing infertility and adopting an older child. It's definitely not the direction we thought our lives would take, but the more we face reality, the more we realize that we simply want to be parents. When I think about not adopting a baby, it doesn't make me sad like it once did. Our path to parenthood might be non-traditional: It could mean fostering kids; it could mean adopting an 11 year old or adopting a set of three siblings. I'm sure people might think we're crazy for taking on any of those options, but if crazy means providing a loving, safe home for kids, then I'm all for being crazy.

If you're the praying type, here are a few requests:

• We're trying to decide if we should stay with our agency or switch to a different agency here in Omaha that works more closely with the agency that places those older children with "forever families." It's a big decision, so we'll need to be wise and patient as we make it. We will be attending an informational meeting in two weeks for this other agency to see what the process is for fostering and how it compares to our current agency. 
• Pray that God would continue to prepare us (our marriage, our home, and our families) for whatever God has in store for our family.
• We need to close on our house in Ogallala, and if we want to foster or adopt, we'll need to find a home here in Omaha that we can move into by June or July. Like most young couples, we're on a limited budget, but we would like to find a home that doesn't require a lot of work and has four or more bedrooms so we can either adopt a set of siblings or offer foster care to siblings. 
• Something has to change a bit with my current schedule before we invite kids into our home...not sure how that might look, and I know I need to remain working full time. I want to be able to give whatever kids we have in our home the attention they deserve.

Many of you have offered us support through prayers and kind words; please know that we could not have traveled this tough road and come out stronger on the other side without this support. Thank you! 

Adoption and Mothers Day

Last week a caseworker from our agency called to say that she had a pregnancy client who was looking at our profile and wanted to know more about our views on open adoption. She wanted to know what kind of relationship we desired to have with birth parents. The call caught me off guard. We were out of town, at my sister in-law's house preparing to celebrate her recently acquired Doctoral Degree and our niece's birthday, and Nate was at his interview in Omaha. I locked myself in the nearest, quietest room, and tried to explain to the caseworker what I thought we wanted despite being unsure of this ourselves.

Nate and I have always said that an open adoption relationship with birth parents would probably depend a lot on the birth parents--on their backgrounds, what they wanted, and how well our personalities meshed. I know nothing about the client looking at our profile. How do you begin to describe what kind of a relationship you want to have with someone you don't know anything about? I tried to be honest with the caseworker, saying that ideally, we'd like to have a close relationship with the birth parents because a kid can never have too many people to love him/her. I said we'd like to have contact via letters, emails, and even visits either at neutral locations or at our home. Ideally, we'd like birth parents to be a part of our family. Like another sister or brother to us. But, I added, much of this will depend on the personality and desires of the birth parents as well. I hate to agree to regular home visits if the birth parents engage in criminal activity. And let's be honest, there are some personalities that ours just don't gel with--so dinner once a week with someone like that might not be tolerable. I'm not sure if I answered the caseworker's question clearly or "correctly." My answer could've scared this birth parent off....and this could have been our one chance at a child. For a long time after that phone call, I couldn't concentrate on anything else. And even a little over a week later, it still keeps me up at night. It's comforting to know that someone is/was interested in us as I was beginning to think there was something terribly wrong with our profile letter....or us...for not receiving any phone calls.

So today, on Mothers Day, this client is weighing heavily on my heart and it gives me
a bit of a new perspective about the holiday. For the past four years it's been a day where I usually wallow in my own self-pity about not being a mom, but this year is different. This morning I can't help thinking about how difficult Mothers Day would be for birth parents--especially those still struggling to choose between parenting and adoption. I can't even imagine. If you're the praying type, while you're thanking God for your own mom, offer up a prayer for wisdom for birth mom's struggling to choose between parenting and adoption.

Playing the waiting game

My brother in-law, Scott, has been raving about the movie "Courageous" for a few months. We've been meaning to watch it, but my short attention span often distracts me from movies. This weekend we helped Scott move into a new apartment, so as a token of his appreciation, he bought us the movie. After we unpacked from our holiday travels today, we watched it. The acting is sometimes cheesey, but I appreciated the message. Given our circumstances and struggles with infertility, the movie was tough to watch at times...

In July we will have been on the list of available adoptive parents through our agency for one year. Maybe this is arrogant of me, but I honestly didn't think we'd be on the list for this long. I know one year isn't that long. It seems like most of the adoptive parents who've worked through our agency waited for a year or two before a placement was made. But the irrational side of me thinks, "We're young, financially stable, and semi-interesting---who wouldn't pick us to parent their child?!" I tend to over-analyze things anyway, so as the months have passed, I've started thinking about our profile letter and what needs to be changed in order to make us more "marketable." It's such a crazy experience, really. We have two pages in text and photos to "sell ourselves" to prospective birth parents, to convince them to meet us face to face to talk about parenting their child.

As we watched the movie I wondered if we'd ever be parents. I feel like I go back and forth on this. At times I feel sure that God wants us to be parents and will bless us when the timing is right. Other times I'm not so sure, and I wonder if parenting is in the cards for our lives; I don't know if it's just a fear of mine, or if it's a real possibility. And so this is where faith comes into play. I have faith that what God ordains in our life is what's best--even if it may not align perfectly with my idea of what's best. It's not easy to have this kind of faith, to say to God--"Do what you want." I want to adopt kids, and I want to be parents who bring their kids to Christ and work to foster their relationship with Him. Remaining childless forever terrifies me. So it's hard to submit to God and say, "Do what you want." But...like John writes in John 3:30--"He must become greater; I must become less."

This infertility/adoption road hasn't been an easy one to travel. But, it's made my faith more genuine and practical. It's teaching me to set aside my own desires to seek God as my only source of fulfillment. And though the road sometimes feels like a dead end, I'll keep walking, searching for beauty along the way.

The blessing of waiting

It's been awhile since I last posted about the subject of adoption and infertility. It's also been a long time since I sat at a computer with headphones squashed in my ears....but Nate's doing the dishes and watching some cop show, and I needed peace (music) and a place to set my Bible. So I'm at the kitchen table---with headphones in my ears, writing about adoption and infertility--a topic I've been avoiding since December when we were closer than we have ever been to growing our family.

For the past few weeks, adoption has been creeping into my thoughts and prayers more. Throughout the day (and at the most random of times) I find myself growing weary about the waiting...my morning prayers often drift towards the topic as I pray for hearts of couples facing unplanned pregnancies to be open to adoption. And today during my morning quiet time, I read a few passages about waiting--something I know well but am not fond of.

Psalm 40 was one of those passages that struck me, specifically the beginning. David writes, "I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God" (Psalm 40: 1-3). I'm thankful for my Bible's footnotes; because at 6:30 in the morning, I tend to a miss a few things. My footnote reads: "[...] David received four benefits from waiting [I bolded and underlined them in the verse above]. Often blessings cannot be received unless we go through the trial of waiting."

Of course, I began thinking about the blessings we've received while we've waited. The list is long...but I think the most significant is my learned dependency on Christ. In all the heart wrenching moments we've experienced in the last three years, I've turned to various outlets: friends, family, a busy schedule, alcohol (for a short time)---to bring me comfort. And while most of my friends and family tried hard and were sympathetic, nothing satisfied me or brought me peace like Christ. I went through a season where I questioned God and nearly turned my back on Him. Why would a merciful, all-knowing, all-powerful God not step in when I'm in this much pain? was all I could think....I'm trying to identify the changing moment for me--but I can't think of what it was the made me drop this mindset. Honestly, I think I was just sick of wallowing. It was exhausting. When I finally stopped going to bed right after work, and when I realized that alcohol was providing only a temporary relief from the pain I felt, then I could open my heart to accepting that God had other plans for us. It's been the most difficult season of my life, but I'm not sure that I'd trade it even for a child. God makes us strong in our weaknesses (2 Cor. 12:8-10), and like my footnotes read, sometimes we need to endure waiting in order to be blessed. Child or no child...I am blessed.

So, like David, I'll wait. And while I'll wait, I'll try not to dwell on what I don't have, but praise God for what He has given me.

Adoption Update: Rising Hopes

In the middle of teaching about dependent clauses yesterday afternoon, my cell phone rang, vibrating my entire desk. Whenever my phone rings or vibrates during the day my throat tightens and my hands shake with anticipation hoping it's the adoption agency with good news. Usually it's a telemarketer, so I don't get too worked up anymore. Casually, I sauntered to my desk and checked the caller ID. "Unavailable" read the screen. Without skipping a beat, I kept teaching. Soon, my phone buzzed once indicating a voice mail. While students were doing board drills, I asked my para if she minded if I checked my voice mail in the hall. "This is Kim with the Nebraska Children's Home..." began the voice mail. Immediately tears filled my eyes. I hung up the phone, ran into my room, begged my para to cover for me, and I fled to Nate's room. I grabbed him so we could listen to the voice mail together. "Your profile..a couple...medical condition with the baby...give us a call back"---the adrenaline in my body wouldn't stop pumping, my limbs tight, my heart racing. We couldn't call the agency back right away since we both had classes to attend to, so we agreed to call during the last period of the day (our free periods).

I think it's some cruel, unwritten rule that caseworkers not answer the phone whenever prospective adoptive parents call. I left a message and tried to go about the last period of the day, working haphazardly, my mind wondering to all the possibilities that lay ahead.

The bell rang at 3:05 and students filed into my room for Extended School Day...I meandered around the room, explaining problems, giving make-up quizzes, answering questions, settling students in. At 3:15 my phone buzzed. The caller ID read "Unavailable." I answered--despite the fact seven students were watching me. The caseworker began to spell out the details, and I tried to tune out the seven rowdy kids and focus instead on her words. Using flailing arm movements, I tried hushing the kids...and failed. I asked the case worker if she would please hang on, ran into my co-worker's classroom next door, and blurted out (in front of another teacher and a student), "It's the agency...please cover my class!" Within a matter of seconds I was scribbling down two pages of medical history, trying to get every detail down.

From there, everything's a blur.

The caseworker called to ask if she could share our profile with a couple whose baby was due December 24th. The couple seemed like a great fit for us, but the baby had major medical issues. Originally we marked we were alright with these issues, but it's protocol (and a good one at that) for the agency to inform prospective adoptive parents of these situations prior to handing out profiles to birth parents. It was decision time. We had the chance to take a risk and share our profile with this couple or not. Saying yes meant the possibility of having a child by Christmas...allowing me to fulfill my dream of being a mom and of giving kitschy Grandma and Grandpa coffee mugs to my parents as Christmas gifts. But it also meant parenting a child (our first child) with major medical issues that we knew only a little about. Saying no meant we go back to waiting...something I'm terrible at.

Last night Nate and I prayed, cried, prayed more, read Bible passages, cried, talked, prayed, and cried...until 12 AM when we made our decision. We prayed after we made our decision and held each other tightly until sleep came.

This morning I showered and readied for work in a daze. During my quiet time this morning, I cried and prayed that God would make me strong in my weakness (Paul's prayer in 2 Corinthians 12), that our decision would bring Him glory.

It's back to waiting for us. Another Christmas spent childless.

I started my first period class this morning while choking back tears, the insides of my cheeks raw from biting them in order to keep from crying. Recognizing my somber, unstable demeanor, my students settled in quickly and focused the entire period. I'm glad I stuck out the day at school--no matter how maddening my job can be, I love my students. The day was easier to get through because of them. When I got home from work, there was a package in the mailbox from my mom containing a card and a book of encouraging Bible verses (though we did not share yesterday's events until now), and an early Christmas package of goodies from Trader Joe's from our good friends, Micah and Amee. It's funny how God works...He used the people we love in our lives to bring us joy and comfort at just the right time.

While the past 24 hours have been frustrating, confusing, exhausting, etc---I feel a strange sense of peace tonight. Maybe it's because I have no more tears left to shed, but I suspect this peace has more to do with God and less to do with me.

What's Keeping Me Up Tonight?

I had all intentions of being asleep by 9:30 tonight, but it's 9:51 and I'm just starting a new blog post. Why? Because I've been reading adoption and infertility blogs for the past hour, and now I can't shut my brain off. Here are my fragmented thoughts as I try and empty my head in order for sleep to consume me:

The holidays are fast approaching, and while I love this time of year, it's also one of the most difficult times. Three Thanksgiving's ago I had my first "baby breakdown." I remember it clearly: Nate ran to Wal-Mart in Grand Island. When he came back, he reported that his best friend from high school and his wife, who had just married a few months earlier, were expecting their first child. I don't remember my immediate reaction. But I do remember a little later I left my mother in-law's house and drove aimlessly around the neighborhood. I eventually parked the Jeep a few blocks down, outside of the old Engleman Elementary School. I leaned my forehead on the steering wheel and cried, letting the tears fall on my helpless hands resting in my lap. Jon Foreman sang through my speakers, "So I'm not sure why it always flows downhill / Why broken cisterns never could stay filled / I've spent ten years singing gravity away / But the water keeps on falling from the sky" (full lyrics and video embedded below).

So for that reason, Thanksgiving has made me anxious. Celebrating the holidays with Nate's family is sometimes tough as we are the only childless couple of the bunch. Playing with other kids often breaks my heart as I am reminded that we don't have kids and may never have this blessing. I know it seems selfish. I can't explain it...if you've been through this, you know what it's like. It's gut-wrenching. The kind of feeling that closes off your throat and makes it hard to breathe.

I'm nervous to travel back to Columbus for Christmas. My entire extended family will be celebrating together, this time with my cousin's new, beautiful baby boy. I fear running into my two best friends from high school. Celeste now has a five month old baby, Joshua, and Hannah will have a new baby by then. Contact with these two girls--my first best friends--has really taken a dive lately. It's crazy how impacting infertility has been on all areas of my life.

I have about two weeks to prepare my heart for the holidays and brace myself to withstand a storm of emotions.

I'll close with the song I alluded to earlier. It's a good one. Very mellow with beautiful lyrics.

"The Cure For Pain" by Jon Foreman

So I'm not sure why it always flows downhill
Why broken cisterns never could stay filled
I've spent ten years singing gravity away
But the water keeps on falling from the sky

And here tonight while the stars are blacking out
With every hope and dream I've ever had in doubt
I've spent ten years trying to sing these doubts away
But the water keeps on falling from my eyes

And heaven knows, heaven knows
I tried to find a cure for the pain
Oh my Lord! To suffer like you do
It would be a lie to run away

So blood is fire pulsing through our veins
We're either writers or fools behind the reigns
I've spent ten years trying to sing it all way
But the water keeps on falling from my tries

And heaven knows, heaven knows
I tried to find a cure for the pain
Oh my Lord! To suffer like you do
It would be a lie to run away
A lie to run
It would be a lie
It would be a lie to run away

It keeps on falling
Water keeps on falling from my eyes

And heaven knows, heaven knows
I tried to find a cure for the pain
Oh my Lord! To suffer like you do
It would be a lie to run away

It's catching up with me again...

Author's Note: My thoughts are fragmented tonight resulting in a post that doesn't seem to have any unity. I'm okay with that, though...I guess I just needed to get some stuff off my chest.

An old friend of mine from high school emailed me today. I haven't heard from her in quite awhile, but she wanted to check in to let me know that she's fervently praying for our adoption process. I'm not going to lie, it was nice to hear it. I'm a little surprised I'm even typing this because for some reason lately, people have been catching me all over town, in school, at XC meets, etc. and have asked about our adoption progress. I know people mean well, but it's awkward when this happens because we have nothing to tell. But for some reason, the email I received today didn't bother me. Maybe it's because it was from an old friend who, at one time, also struggled with trying to conceive. But I think the reason it didn't bother me is she wasn't asking for any information or updates. She was simply emailing to let me know that she has been praying for us....

******

I haven't thought about our adoption too much. I pray for the process just about every day, but it's been awhile since I've sat down and really thought about it. But last night as I was laying next to my husband, my mind drifted to the subject I've pushed out of my mind for the last three months. I wondered if at that moment any birth moms were reading over profile letters grappling with their decision. And the thought broke my heart. I cannot imagine how difficult of a decision it would be to make an adoption plan for a child...

******

My throat is tightening as I grit my teeth and bite my bottom lip in an unsuccessful attempt to fight back tears. I've missed rejoicing with my best friend as she welcomed her first baby into the world this last summer. My relationship with my other best friend pretty much fell off the face of the earth with the announcement of her pregnancy nearly nine months ago. My house feels empty and quiet--the spot in our kitchen where I planned to place a high chair is now a resting place for dirty towels waiting to be taken to the laundry room. As the holidays approach and we make plans to visit family, I grow nervous thinking about meeting my cousin's new beautiful baby boy and the emotional response I might have to it all. I am still deeply affected by our infertility and tonight it's catching up with me, catching me off guard.

I don't wear a cape and I don't have a giant S on my chest

Author's Note: This post is not intended to condescend anyone who has responded with phrases similar to the ones described below. I simply want to lend insight to adoption.

When we tell people we're adopting, most people respond with enthusiasm fraught with an air of curiosity because adoption is unknown territory for most. Some have even been blatant with their curiosity and have asked why, right up front. These responses don't bother me.
Here are the responses that rub me the wrong way (even if they are sincere): You guys are so great for adopting or It's so awesome that you'll be giving a child a better life. I typically respond with a smile and a politically correct, Yup, it's pretty exciting! But here's what I really want to say:

Actually, we're not that great. We, like most people, want to have biological children. And while I dream about the child God will give us through adoption, I still long to have a child that has my husband's nose and eyes and my insanely long fingers and toes. Adoption is our only choice to grow our family. And I am no superhero donning a cape and a giant S plastered on my chest simply because I am adopting. The real superheroes are the birth parents who are honest and courageous enough to choose adoption.

I don't want people to think I'm some sort of martyr because I'm adopting a child. I'm simply a woman who desires to be a mom, and adoption is the path God has chosen for me to fulfill this desire.

Just in case...

I find myself using the phrase, "just in case..." quite often these days.

We cleaned out our office/spare room last week "just in case" we are placed with a baby sometime during the crazy, hectic school year.

We gave up some of our extra duties at school "just in case..."

This week I've spent hours in my classroom creating entire units: handouts, quizzes, assignments, etc (something I don't normally do until, well, when I teach the unit)..."just in case...."

We picked out a few names..."just in case...."

You get the hint.

But I'm running out of things to do with the excuse "just in case." If you know me at all, you know that I am constantly moving, planning, dwelling. So now that I'm running out of things to do "just in case," I find myself in a predicament. What do I do while I wait? What can we do when we are told to "be patient and wait for the call"? What can I do when women all around me are giving birth or announcing pregnancies--something I can't do? What do you do when you have no control?

I pray. I pray every day for our hopeful-future child and his/her birth parents. And this brings me comfort--but it doesn't get me up and moving...so still, I feel unsatisfied.

If you're a praying person, pray that my soul would be calmed, that I would find peace in simply living and carrying on with my daily life. Pray that I would not dwell on what might or might not be.

Adoption update: We made the list

Well....that letter I wrote about in an earlier post: we received it today! The letter lets us know that the adoption committee at NCHS has approved our application for adoption. Essentially, we are now on "the list" of available adoptive parents.

Now we wait to be matched up with birth parents. The adoption process looks different for everyone, but generally speaking here's what happens:

1. When birth parents express interest in making an adoption plan for their child, they fill out paperwork similar to what we filled out...plus more. Once that is turned in, someone in the main office pulls a certain number of profiles that match what the birth parents are looking for in adoptive parents and what adoptive parents are looking for in terms of family history, health, etc. The birth parents then read the four-page profile letters and select one couple.

2. If time allows, there is a pre-birth meeting between birth parents and prospective adoptive parents. Kind of a get-to-know you first meeting. Sometimes (again if time allows) the birth parents and adoptive parents continue to meet after that to form a relationship. At this point nothing is finalized.

3. Once the baby is born, the birth parents can't sign relinquishment papers (document releasing the birth parents' rights to NCHS) until 48 hours after the birth of the baby (Nebraska law). Both parents need to sign that document.

4. Then a baby is placed with the adoptive parents the birth parents selected (sometimes this happens before relinquishments are signed depending on the circumstances).

5. The caseworker working with the adoptive parents then completes a few home visits to make sure everything is going well. If all is well, the adoption is finalized in court some time later. I believe this is when a new birth certificate is issued.

At some point between steps two and four, the birth parents and prospective adoptive parents work with their caseworker to draft an open-adoption plan. This is a set of guidelines that both couples agree to follow in terms of contact and relationship---this isn't a legally binding contract, but is an important document that will guide the relationship between birth parents, child, and adoptive parents.

The information we share from now on will be extremely limited. Because so much could happen and change, it will be unlikely that I will share any progress in the process until we are actually placed with a child and relinquishments are signed. We've heard a few stories of "failed adoptions"---where birth parents and adoptive parents met before the birth of the baby, formed a relationship, and then when the baby was born, the birth parents decided to parent (which is completely legitimate since relinquishments can't be signed until 48 hours after the birth). But...I would hate to announce that a couple has selected us, and then have that happen and have to announce that the adoption didn't go through. In that case, I can imagine it would be almost like grieving the loss of a child.

In a nutshell, only God knows from here on out. It could be a two-week wait, and it could be five years. Either way, we appreciate your support. If you're the praying kind, here are some requests:

• Peace during the wait. Of course we would love the wait to be short and the process smooth, but more than anything---we want a sense of peace while we wait.
  
• Pray that we would take advantage of this time to continue to build our marriage.We realize how important it is to have a solid marriage in order to be effective parents. Pray we would use this time to continue to grow our strengths and work on our weaknesses.
• Pray for birth parents. I cannot imagine how difficult it would be to decide to make an adoption plan for a child. Pray that the decision-making process would be as smooth as possible, and that they would have support during the process.

Thanks to all of you who have been following our journey---we appreciate your interest in our lives and the support you give through kind words and prayers.

Adoption Update

We ran into yet another hang up with our adoption paperwork a few weeks ago (a paper someone forgot to give us to fill out) that set us back. Our caseworker then sent off all of our paperwork on a Thursday, but the person who did the initial intake paperwork in the main office--her last day was the next day. We had no idea if the replacement was trained to process our paperwork or if there was even a replacement hired. We waited about two weeks before we called the main office to check on it. They had received it, but it hadn't been processed yet. So....we were told to wait...again. At that point, I was pretty indifferent. I wanted to get worked up about it and be pissed off, but really---what was another week?

Today Nate called me to say that our caseworker called him to let him know the main office had processed our paperwork and was sending out a letter today to notify us that we'd been placed in the "pool" with other waiting couples. This is the news I've been waiting to hear for about two months now. So, I expected to be ecstatic. But to be honest...what I felt was fear. A pit in my stomach that spread to my throat, tightening it.

This process--infertility and adoption--though we've been at it three years now is all still new and unpredictable. I've learned that my expectations won't always be met---whether it's expectations about the adoption process or expectations about what emotions I'd have throughout the road to adoption. It's a bit unnerving because I'm unsure of how to not have expectations. It's definitely taking a lot of prayer.

I read an article recently in Adoptive Families that advised waiting couples to celebrate every milestone...and being placed on the list (though it's not quite official until we have that letter) is certainly a milestone. I want to celebrate---but I also want to guard my heart to protect it from any other bumps in the road we might experience. Nonetheless---I am relieved that there seems to be an end to the paper trail we've been chasing for ten months!

Shoes, blanket, and the red notebook

I had a sudden burst of productivity this afternoon---after my hour and a half long nap---so I decided to clean out our office closet. Actually, I tried to grab something off the top shelf and a box came tumbling down, smacking me in the face and spilling its contents. That's really what made me decide it was time to clean out the closet.

This task has been on my summer to-do list ever since school ended. The closet is in the second bedroom in our house which is currently serving as an office with hopes of someday becoming a bedroom for a baby. When school ended in May, I told myself I'd clean out and organize that room leaving only the bookshelves, love seat, and rocking chair so if our adoption does go through, it will be an easier transition. We've heard so many stories about adoptive couples having only a few hours to prepare to bring a baby home (what typical couples do in nine months). After two years of waiting and 10 months of paperwork, interviews, meetings, and more waiting, I feel like I need to do something to, I guess, get ready.

While cleaning, I ran across the three items in this picture: baby shoes, a baby blanket, and a red journal. They all seem pretty insignificant, but each item had an emotional impact on me today. I'll start with the shoes---I bought these little canvas shoes four years ago at a Target. When Nate and I started dating, we talked about starting a family---how many kids we wanted, ideal time frames...we had it all planned out. Since we married when I was only a junior in college, we decided it would be smartest to wait until after I was finished with school. But during my fourth year of college (our second year of marriage), I started to get that itch---that desire to be a mom. I didn't want to wait any more. I began dreaming about the babies we would have. I'd find myself wandering through the baby section at Target, handling the earth-toned receiving blankets, mentally picking out cribs and baby joggers, imagining the wardrobe my baby would sport. Then one day I ran across these cute shoes. I couldn't pass them up. When I brought them home, I felt so silly but was excited to show Nate. He laughed it off and made fun of me for a few years for it. I stashed them away in storage in anticipation for our first baby that I thought would come soon...the baby we're still waiting for.

The next item in the basket is a white blanket. It has a satin edge and little poofy balls attached to the front. Nate's mom gave it to us before our first meeting back in October with Nebraska Children's Home Society (NCHS). Ever since Nate and I married, I've dreamed about telling our parents they'd be grandparents to our children. Nate's mom has three beautiful, unique grandkids already from two of her three children. These kids bring her so much joy and pride. It kills me to not be a part of this. I often feel like the black-sheep of the family because we haven't been able to contribute to the joy she has in her grandkids. Though it's hard to see the blanket still tucked away with tags attached not knowing if we'll ever be able to use it, the gift still means so much to me. I know it's not just us waiting for our family to grow---the blanket sort of symbolizes the others who are also eagerly waiting for us to have this blessing. And somehow, I take comfort in that.

Finally, the red notebook. In January we attended a two day training in Omaha at the NCHS office that prepared us for all that was to come in the process (I say that with some sarcasm because two days isn't possibly enough time to prepare a couple for a lifetime of parenting an adopted child). That weekend I decided I wanted to chronicle our journey in the form of handwritten letters to our hopeful, future child. So---ever since, I've been filling the notebook with letters, song lyrics, parts of our adoption/infertility story, pieces of wisdom I've learned, bible verses, etc all addressed to our child. If God's plan is for us to be parents, I hope to give this to him/her when he/she is old enough to understand and appreciate the significance behind it.

It seems stupid, but after I found these items I started thinking about all the other items I've painstakingly passed up in the last three years: the tie-dyed onesie and matching hat from the music festival in Colorado, the Worth the Wait onesie, all of the adorable baby furniture at Ikea, the pieces of pottery at Paint Yourself Silly I want to paint for our kid's room, the Ted Kooser picture book, the folk and bluegrass songs beautifully converted into kids' songs on Elizabeth Mitchell's album You Are My Little Bird. Just when I think I have it all together---I seem to have an emotional meltdown. The shoes, the blanket, and the notebook did me in today. I'm so tired of waiting. I'm hopeful that we'll someday be parents. I'm frustrated with the lack of communication we seem to be having with our agency. I'm unsure how much more heartbreak I can handle. I just want to be a mom...I never anticipated it would be this difficult.

Adoption Frustrations

My phone rang about 15 minutes ago and the North Platte NCHS number came across my screen. I was hoping to hear something like, "Congrats! You've been placed in the pool with other waiting couples!"

Instead, I found that our caseworker is missing two important documents: a background check from our local police department (that, by the way, we dropped off two months ago to get filled out and sent in and apparently it hasn't been sent in) and our background checks from the child abuse registry (our caseworker has requested this information three times now and STILL hasn't received it from whatever agency deals with this paperwork). These missing documents are keeping us from being placed in the waiting pool.

For the past 15 minutes Nate and I have been playing phone tag trying to figure out how we can get the background check faxed to a place close to where he's at on campus at UNL (he has no car or bike with him today as he rode the city bus), then we have to find a place where he can get his signature notarized and then fax it back to the Ogallala PD who then has to fax it to NCHS.

When I hung up with our caseworker today I immediately started bawling. I hate crying, but I couldn't help it. I'm so tired of waiting on other people to start our family. I'm so tired of feeling like I have no control. I know some couples who have waited longer than we have and have gone through infinitely more than we have, so I feel bad being frustrated at the situation. But I can't help it...I am incredibly frustrated and feel that all my energy has been drained (and it's only 10 AM here!).

If you're of the religious persuasion, please pray for endurance for us to be able to handle this situation with as much grace as possible.