Heartbreaks and Fist Pumps!

Before we ever married, we had both talked about the idea of possibly adopting a child some day. So here we are, nearly four years later, with the choices before us to help us become parents; medical surgery (not guaranteed and possibly expensive), IVF (not guaranteed and very expensive), donor (not so much) and adoption. 

As far back as I can remember, I've been excited to be pregnant some day.  As a little girl I would put a ball under my shirt or stick out my belly and pretend I was going to be a mommy.  As a teenager I loved holding little babies and thinking that some day I might hold my own child like that.  In college, the girls on my hall could likely set their watches by my routine of watching TLC's "A Baby Story".  Fascinated by the idea that some day I would have a teeny tiny little person growing inside me, I watched intently thinking, "When I'm pregnant, I will be so distracted with trying to feel every flutter of my baby and every symptom of pregnancy that I will certainly be of no use to anyone but the child I would be hosting." 

For the first year and a half of our marriage I waited, prayed and tried to will the first symptom of pregnancy into reality.  Month after month I received only devastating reminders that, once again, I was not pregnant.  At times I would tell myself it was no big deal.  Other times, it was as though I had lost all hope.  Shaking I would wait for test results just knowing I haaaadddd to be pregnant "this time".  That would be followed with tears and an empty pit in my stomach for a day or two or more.  Eventually, we began talking about the what ifs.  What if we're doing something wrong?  Maybe our diet or stress from work were to blame.  Maybe we were too focused on trying.  It felt like everyone I met asked/asks when we are going to have children and when we would say we were trying, they'd all say... "Oh just don't think about it.  Stop expecting to get pregnant and you'll get pregnant."  Easy for everyone with child to say.  I knew that people were just trying to be supportive and optimistic, but it turns out I felt that I was to blame because I couldn't "just stop thinking about it".  "Stop Stressing, Erica!!" I'd tell myself.  "Just don't worry about it!"  Sometimes I believed I had stopped worrying about it.  That is, until the next month rolled around and I realized I was heartbroken, yet again.  We finally began to see doctors.  Painfully, we rejected the first professional opinion and sought another doctor. We took time off work and drove to Charlottesville to speak with a surgeon (who we thought was also a fertility specialist) and after navigating the small country that the hospital is, we landed ourselves in the patient room covered with Bob the Builder decals and a miniature chair that was clearly for either an elf or a 4 year old.  Of course I sat in the mini lawn chair as we waited for Dr. Dread spend all of 5 minutes with us and then to tell us we really should just skip other options (that we thought we were there for) and go straight for IVF for the limited time offer of $10,000 and No Guarantee!!!  SWEEET!!!!  (I am exaggerating a bit...ehem).  However, the news was not hopeful and we left the office for a long hour and 20 minute drive home to start back at square one.  Talk of what to do next ceased for a long time after that. 

Slowly (we're talking another year or so) I began accepting the fact that we would not be having children without outside intervention or help.  It was not until then that we began planning, once again, for a family.  I began researching different organizations, asking questions and listening intently to the stories of others who I knew had adopted a child.  It was June 27th of this year that we attended an informational meeting at an agency I had researched and heard great reviews about.  We left that night with an application in our hands and having had two hours of adoption 101 flashed before us via power point.  But we knew.  After about 10 minutes of quiet pondering, Bradley turned to me in the car as we drove home and said, "I think we should get started on the application".  I turned and smiled and said something like, "Yah? Good. I think so too."  My internal dialogue, however, was shouting, "Hallelujah! Yes yes yes!" and I was pumping my fist and elbow discretely next to the passenger side arm rest, unbeknownst to Bradley.  Of course, the following night I began filling that application out and organizing our paperwork.  The application itself costs money to submit and requests a lot of detailed information that had to be gathered.  After a dermatology appointment (what we now refer to as the worst practical joke we've experienced together... but that's another blog) we headed to simply hand in our application before heading to lunch.  The lady who received our application happened to be just the right person and she asked us if we could wait a few moments while she reviewed it.  She returned shortly after and invited us to stay a bit longer for a first interview.  There was only one slot available and the night before was an orientation so she expected more applications right away.  However, she was interested in talking with us.  We agreed and after a first interview, we were given another set of papers.  These were the biggies and they came with big instructions.  

So here we are at the next stage of the adoption process.  Filling out forms, writing our autobiographies, gathering documentations of finances, previous addresses, photos for a scrapbook, references, etc. and all the while imagining that once we turn in our paperwork... when we hand it all over and complete the rest of our home study... we will be that much closer to being parents.  It could be 6 months from then or 3 years.  God alone knows the specifics.  But we are on our way to becoming parents and one fine day, the phone will ring and we'll get the call saying, "There is a lady who wants to meet you," and we will introduce ourselves to the birthmother of our child.  I smile just to type the words, "our child". Sigh...

Okay... okay... that's enough sap for one night. I have so much more to share but I must sleep.
Thanks for "stopping by".