"Perfectly imperfect"

Today, our son, our oldest child, turns 6.  I cannot believe it.  The time has just flown. It feels like just yesterday that we were bringing him home from the hospital:

Now, 6 years later, I cannot imagine our life without our son.

He has taught me so much about being human, being "perfectly imperfect" (I stole that from someone, though I cannot recall from whom): loving unconditionally and intensely to the point that my tears well up and he wonders why I am crying; feeling such passion for a little being; losing my patience; losing myself (for a brief time); feeling intensely sad/mad/happy/thrilled.

He has showed me that I cannot do everything all at once, that doing something well takes time, that doing something in an uninterrupted fashion will never happen again.

He has showed me that climbing UP the slide is WAY more fun than sliding down it.  He has showed me that singing at the top of your lungs is what you do when you wake up. Every. Single. Day.  He has showed me that every play moment with Legos deserves a soundtrack.  He has showed me that having a 6 year old buddy is pretty darn cool. He has showed me that your child doesn't have to look like you in order to BE exactly like you.  He has showed me that mowing the lawn is the MOST fun.

This kid has changed my life in innumerable ways, none of which I ever would have imagined. There are days when I want to protect him from the world, and other days when I want to shove him right in to it (only so that he knows how great he has it around here).

This boy is my heart.  I didn't give him life, but he gave me mine.  He has been in my heart all of my life, and when I held him that very first time in the hospital, I knew that we were meant to be mother and son forever and ever.  He is mine, and I am his, and I will always be grateful for that.

What "kind" of adoption can you have?

*Disclaimer: I am not in favor of a completely open adoption as it is defined below.  I am also not in favor of a totally closed adoption. The purpose of this post is to educate as well as to give my perspective on the various "kinds" of adoptions that exist.*

Back in the 'olden' days, most adoptions were closed.  That meant (and means) that there is no contact at all between birthparents and adoptive parents.  *There were many, well-intentioned reasons for this type of adoption many of which seemed to revolve around the child: allowing the child to think that his adoptive family was his family, and helping the child not get too confused about who's who.  Over the years, the adoption world changed, as did society (or was it the other way around?), so the theories about closed adoptions and its impact on adopted children changed.

In comes the "open" adoption trend. According to adoptionhelp.org, open adoption "includes the birthparents and adoptive parents meeting one another, sharing full identifying information, and having direct access to ongoing contact over the years." (Silber & Dorner, Children of Open Adoption, Corona Publishing, San Antonio, TX, 1990)."

Obviously, this is the complete opposite of what had been done in the adoption world.  The pendulum didn't just swing; it shattered the clock, the glass, and everything in its path. Today, open adoption is THE accepted practice.  

What is most interesting to me, someone who does research for a living, is that there is no actual proof that open adoptions provide any benefit to either the birth family, the adoptive family, or the adopted child/ren.  All that is available is anecdotal evidence (stories) that the adoption professionals tell:

Social worker: "It's just really great for everyone."
Us: "Oh, really," we asked.  "How do you know? Do you have resources you can give us?"
Social worker: "Um, sure. Here's a book."

And the book was full of stories (anecdotes) about how great open adoption is.

So, what's an academic gal to do? Call on her university librarian!  With the help of my amazing librarian, I had heaps of research within about 24 hours of requesting it.  How can I summarize the almost 200 pages of research I read in the summer of 2008? Here's how: Parents should not lie to their kids about being adopted.  That's it.  Within the 200 or so pages of research, the ONLY conclusive statement made was that parents should not lie to their kids about being adopted.  Everything else was either anecdotes or inconclusive.

There is a middle ground called "semi-open adoption," and that is where we fall with our kids' birthparents.  We have semi-open adoptions.  What these consist of is, in our case, monthly or quarterly email updates with pictures.  That way, our birthparents know that their biological children are doing well, and we keep the lines of communication open.  With our son's birthmother, we have a close relationship.  She is not involved in our daily life, but she knows who we are, where we live, and what we do for a living.  We did not start out this way, however.  Over time, though, she has respected the boundaries (yes, boundaries--not a very PC term in the adoption world, I might add), so we have eased up on those boundaries.  Our daughter's birthparents requested an closed adoption which we did not want but respected.  After almost a year, they requested to meet us and our daughter.  We obliged and had a LOVELY time.  In fact, as we were taking leave of them, I said, "In another life, we could all be friends."  And it's true.  They are very cool people, are about our age, and hold the same values and have the same priorities we do.  Since that meeting, our relationship has returned to monthly or quarterly emails (depends on the time of year and how busy I am) and updates.  They do not know where we live, what our last name is, or what we do for a living.  We are OK with that for now.

It is an incredible gift to be in touch with our birthparents.  There is no denying it.  However, we did NOT want an open adoption thrust upon us, and we were not going to be guilted in to committing to one.  You see, the "kind" of adoption you have is NOT legally binding.  So, you can agree to an open adoption, go back on your word, and cut off the contact.  We could never fathom doing that, so we were up front right away.  That meant waiting longer than some people we know because we were not willing to have an open adoption.

As I've said in an earlier post, the choices we make in adoption are as individual as the individuals who decide to adopt.  For us, open adoption was not an option, absolutely not in the cards.  That is not to say, though, that we wanted NO contact.  We just needed to be able to craft and determine the relationship at our own pace after having established a bit of a relationship with the birthparents.  To be guilted in to a lifelong OPEN adoption relationship with people we didn't even know just wasn't possible for us.

  

In the end, sticking to our guns worked.  We now have adoption situations that work for us, that work for our kids (so far), and that work for the birthparents.  After all, that's all that really matters.

*These reasons are based on some reading I did back in 2008 when learning about closed, semi-open, and open adoptions.*

Happy Mother's Day to birthmothers

If, like us, you are in touch with your kid's (kids') birthmothers, it is hard to know what to say on Mother's Day.  Of course, they are your child's biological mother.  However, they are not "Mom." We are blessed that our kids' birthmothers respect and understand that.

We have very different relationships with each set of birthmothers, and we are learning how to navigate those differences every single day.

With our son's birthmother, we are in touch via email about once a month and have been since March 2009 when we met her, two months before he was born, when she chose us to parent her son.  I remember on my very first Mother's Day when our son was almost 1 year old getting a Mother's Day email from our son's birthmother. My heart welled up with such love and compassion for her.  She is an incredible woman who has found joy and has gone on to get married to a wonderful person who knows about our son and loves him, too.  Together, they are creating a life, and we are so blessed to be in touch with her. Our relationship with her has developed very naturally over time, and she now knows where we live, she has my regular email, and she knows a lot about our lives.  Early on, she proved to us that she would respect the boundaries that we had established (more on that in my next post) with her, and slowly, we have revealed to her the details of our lives.  Every year I send her and her husband a photo of our son (and by "ours" I do mean, hers and ours), and every year, she thanks me profusely.  They each get a wallet size photo as well as one to frame for their house.  My husband and I did NOT start out in this mental space.  We never anticipated having a relationship with her, but it works for us and has unfolded very naturally and very wonderfully.  She is not involved in our lives on a daily basis, however.  When the time comes for our son and her to meet, we will facilitate that, assuming our son is mentally and emotionally prepared and ready. What we have valued about "Birthmom 1" is that our son's care, stability, and health has ALWAYS been her #1 priority.  She wanted a more open relationship with us, but she understood that, ultimately, what was in our son's best interest was less contact to start.

Our son knows that he is adopted.  In fact, he thinks that most kids are.  To him, a woman either grows a baby like his Aunt J did, or parents go and pick one up at the hospital like we all did with our second child, our daughter.  It is really cute to watch him process how babies show up.  We picked up our daughter when he was not quite 3.  Shortly thereafter, we visited Aunt J when she was VERY pregnant with baby G.  He asked, "What's in there?" as he pointed to her tummy.  Aunt J said, "A baby."  And our son said, "Oh, we got ours at the hospital."  And that was that.  The world was easily divided in to women who grow babies and those who go get them at the hospital.  That explanation, or understanding, was MUCH easier than any explanation I could have created for him.

We have a different relationship with our daughter's birthmother ("Birthmom 2").  For many reasons having nothing to do with us, it is hard for her to be in direct contact with our family.  Therefore, every message and every picture I send is first funneled through Birthfather 2. As time continues, we will learn to figure out our relationship with Birthmom 2, and I am honestly not worried about it.  As someone who constantly plans and prepares (and enjoys control), I have had to learn to let go, let God, and understand that it will all work out the way it is supposed to.  We worry about our children when they are old enough to compare notes about their respective birthmothers.  What will we say to our son whose birthmother has included us in almost every single step of her life since his arrival? What will say to our daughter whose birthmother has not?

The trick with adoption is that there are TONS of unknowns: where will your child come from? Will their birthmother have taken care of them in utero? How old is birthmom? What are her expectations?What are yours? These are just some of the questions that we adoptive parents wonder about and ask ourselves and each other.  Learning to let go is the hardest thing, but the best thing, to do.

We tell potential adoptive parents whom we meet through our agency or through life that they should just take it as it comes, to keep their eyes on the goal which is to bring home a child and to love him or her with all of your heart.  That's all that matters.  I would say to anyone reading this who is considering adoption: Don't let the details scare you.  Don't let the details turn you off.  Adoption is worth it.  The joy our children bring us is indescribable.  What we did before them, other than sleep and go out to dinner, I do not know, and I definitely don't want to go back to that world.  Parenting is scary stuff, but it's worth it.

So is adoption.

For those who wish this was their Mother's Day

This post is for all the women out there who want to be mothers and aren't yet.

We started trying to have a family in July 2005.  It became evident by March 2006 that it wasn't going to happen naturally for us.  From July 2005 until May 2009 when our son came home to us, every single Mother's Day was torture.

I was jealous and sad and mad.  It was like every time I turned on the TV some woman out there was getting flowers or jewelry or love from her kids while I sat wondering when it would be my turn, wondering why all of those other women got to have kids but I didn't.  What had I done to be punished like this? Didn't God know that I already knew how to be a mom? What gave?

Even in those dark moments, I found ways to be thankful.  I was grateful for my own mother who is alive and well and one of my dearest friends.  My mom lost her mother when she (my mom) was pregnant with my oldest brother, when my grandma was only 47 years old.  I gave thanks to have my mother who has comforted me and given me shelter my whole life, especially during that time of my life.

Still, the grief and sadness that revolved around Mother's Day was incredible.  The jealousy stirred me to the bone and made me REALLY uncomfortable.  The anger is still indescribable.  I wasn't angry at mothers; I was angry at God that I wasn't one yet, and I was angry that we were having to wait what seemed like forever to have a child.

So, for all of you soon-to-be-mothers out there (whether you know it or not), I have been there.  I get it.  What you are experiencing and feeling is yours alone.  I know what it is like to feel sad and mad and frustrated and alone.  You are not alone.  I am here for you, and LOTS of other people are there for you too.

What I found in my sadness, once I decided to open up about it, is that there are MANY other people out there who feel sad and lonely and jealous, too.

Do you wonder...

...if, by having an adopted child you won't feel like a 'real parent'? Has that thought ever crossed your mind? It did for me.

I wondered what it would feel like to have a child that looked nothing like me.  Now, I must preface this by saying that my husband is African-American, so the chances of any biological child we had looking anything like my Irish self was slim to none.  As my husband says, "Those genes (the African ones) are STRONG."

We will never know what our biological kids would have looked like, and guess how much time I give to that thought? Zero.  Nada.  Rien.  I never think about it.  Why? Because my children, the ones that are sitting in our family room watching "Sofia the First" are my children.  I never think about biological children because these children are mine. God created them for my husband and me, and, as far as I'm concerned that's all that matters.

When I look at each of them I think, "I cannot believe that you didn't come from my body."  They look like my husband, and they act like me.  Shocking, I know.

I hear from potential adoptive families, particularly women, that they wonder what it will feel like to parent someone else's child.  Guess what? That child that comes in to your home is YOUR child.  In the adoption world, in their lingo, it's called "Claiming."  I don't like that expression because it makes it sound like your child is a possession, an object to hide and keep away from the biological parents (there's a whole other post about biological parents coming) or anyone who might possibly be connected to them.

A child is a gift.  There is comfort in saying, "This child is MY child."  Just because I say that doesn't mean that our child doesn't also belong to, or isn't also a part of, the biological parents.  It's just to say that I am this child's mom.  There is a lot of pride in that sentiment.

A person learns a lot through adoption.  You learn to be okay with the vague and the unknown.  Instead of being able to plan things out, you have to fly by the seat of your pants a little bit.  Sometimes you know for a long time that your child is coming; other times, you get a call at the last minute.

Whatever the case, your child was yours long before you ever knew it.

Here I am!

I haven't forgotten about this blog. I have been swamped with work, family, life.  And, honestly, the last post took a lot out of me emotionally. I hadn't realized it until about a week later, when I thought about coming back to post something else, and I just couldn't get myself to sit down and do it.

From here on, I will do my best to post 1-2 times per week.  I don't know that I'm going to proceed in a linear fashion going forward.  So much of the adoption process is emotional, and that means it isn't just about what happened and when. It's about why it happened, how it felt, and how we coped with it.

I'm a linear thinker.  I'm horrible at spatial relations. I love to tell stories, and I love detail.  My husband is an attorney who has a hard time with my storytelling because the fluffy detail annoys him. He wants the point of the story, not all of the lovely embellishments that I adore (Those who tell stories as I do make HORRIBLE witnesses.)

If there is something specific that you would like me to talk about, please comment below or send me a message on FB: http://www.facebook.com/kathleenwhitworthwellness.

IVF, meds, and doctors, OH MY!

Throughout this blog, I'm trying really hard to be positive and upbeat.  The fertility/infertility journey requires a lot of strength, sleep, and positivity (wine doesn't hurt either).  As much as we tried to remain positive, there were people along the way who definitely ruined our mojo.

*To avoid revealing the identities of those mentioned below, except for my own and my husband's, all names have been changed.

First, let me say, that I am not here to be negative and to disparage any sort of medical professional. What we experienced was unique to us. It is ours alone, and I would never in a million years presume to think that ALL doctors who work with infertile couples behave as our first doctor did. In fact, we have proof that they do not because we fired our first doctor, and our second doctor was a dream.

When you're told by the nurse practitioner at your OBGYN's office that your only options for having a child are IVF or adoption, your heart breaks a little bit.  Every dream that you had about having a child that "looks just like you" is gone.  You start to wonder many things (but the first always seems to be making peace with winding up with a kid who won't look like you):

--will I ever be a mom (I've written a bit about that already)
--what will it feel like to never be pregnant?
--how will I relate to other women who have been pregnant?
--will I be excluded from their group?
--what will it be like to never have a child who looks like me?
--how will I explain what has happened to others?
--what if they don't get it?
--how much is all of this going to cost?

My OBGYN referred us to a particular doctor, a supposed fertility expert, at a local, but well-known, hospital.  I made my appointment to get put through testing to figure out what was going on.  At the time, I was only 32, so I had time on my side.  What's the upside of infertility at such a young age? EVERYONE in the field says, "Oh my gosh. You are SO YOUNG."  It's the only great feeling about not having been "advanced maternal age" (over 35).

After all of our testing (hubby got tested to), we were told what the issues were and were told that IVF would be our only viable option.  We had already wrapped our head around the IVF thing, so we weren't that surprised.  We had come with questions, and the nursing staff responded well.  We were given information, they explained the process, and we went home to talk more about it. Other than the initial examination from the doctor, I didn't see him again for the rest of the visit.

It was August 2006.  My school year was getting ready to start. I was playing soccer again in an all women's league, and I had realized that my full life would be REALLY helpful during this IVF process.  We went back for our initial appointment, to learn how to administer all of the drugs, and ask more questions.  All I wanted to know was would I still be able to play soccer.  The answer was "no."  Because of the intensity of all of the medications, I would need to rest and take it easy.  No soccer balls to the stomach.  So, that was the first step in limiting my activity before I was even pregnant.

We went to the pharmacy, got ALL of the medications, had our schedule of when each would have to be administered, and we were ready to roll.

Ladies: You think PMS is bad? You ain't seen nothin' until you've seen a woman on IVF meds.

Stay tuned for that in my next post.

Inconceivable

It was inconceivable to me (pun intended) that I would never be a biological mother.  I just couldn't fathom it.  To catch up a bit, check out this post: http://kathleenwhitworth.blogspot.com/2015/02/stumbling-around.html.

To NOT be a mom? What would that look like? Feel like? What would I do with my life?

I tend to be a hand wringer.  I wring my hands, fret uncontrollably and don't do anything about that which I am fretting.  Usually in these cases, Shannon tells me to go talk to someone (usually a person whom he thinks will help me).  So, I called my priest, FT.

I was born and raised Roman Catholic and am still practicing.  I'm not on board with absolutely everything the Church wants me to be on board with (living together before marriage, anyone?), BUT I value immensely our priest and his input.  He is a very down-to-earth dude who is really honest and forthright.  He's not super preachy (I know, weird for a priest), and he generally guides his flock to the right answer rather than telling them what to think.

With that in mind, I called him and told him EVERYTHING that had gone on with the medical/science world: IVF or adoption were our only choices.  He suggested that we meet for coffee, and we did.  When he walked in and sat down, I didn't even give him a chance to get his coffee before saying, "Ok. We've been told that IVF is our only option. I know the Church is not big on IVF, but I don't care. I want a baby, and this is what has to happen."  He smiled and said, "Ohhhhh Kayyyyyyy.  Well, why don't you tell me why you want to have a baby."  And I said, "Shannon and I want to share our lives with another human. I want to have my husband's child."  FT said, "Well, then, there you have it.  Those are good reasons."

The conversation went on for quite some time.  FT was supportive and told me that he would support us no matter what.  I can still see us sitting there all those years ago.  I feel incredibly blessed that our priest is so very realistic and kind.

When I returned home to Shannon, I said, "Let's go for it."  We had been given the name of a fertility doctor at a local, well-known hospital.  We called his office, made an appointment for a consultation, and met with him for the first time in late August 2006.

Had I known the kind of person he was--his attitude, his bedside manner, his general aura--I never would have worked with him. I was SO desperate to have a biological child that I did not vet this doctor enough.  Lesson learned.  More on that in my next post.

Baby #2 turns 3

As I posted on Facebook, our daughter turned 3 yesterday.  I cannot believe it's been THREE years since we brought her home.  Where has the time gone? I'm sure that every parents wonders that.  One minute you're buried in burp cloths and diapers, and the next minute your kid wants nothing to do with you or exclaims at every turn, "I can do it MYSELF."  It's refreshing and frightening all at the same time.

Before our son came along in May 2009, we had another adoption lined up in Tennessee in September 2008.  At the very very last minute, the birthmother changed her mind, and Shannon and I were left to pick up those emotional pieces.  Because we had told EVERYONE we know that we were going to bring home a baby, it was an unbelievable task to then go and have to "untell" everyone.  This is when I started on FB because I could announce it to people that way without having to say it over and over and over again.

Obviously, from that time forward, we became VERY leery about any potential adoption that our agency called us.  Even though a situation would seem mostly solid, we just couldn't let ourselves fall for it again.

When we met our son's birthmother in March 2009, we felt really good about the situation, but we decided not to tell anyone other than our immediate family and a few close friends.  We needed people on deck to help with baby gear and other housekeeping things.  Even though that situation was incredibly solid, one just never knows how a birthmother is going to feel after giving birth.  Human beings are special creatures, and nothing is ever 100% certain.

In December 2011, the same day I finished teaching my fall semester, I got a call from our agency. Our social worker, *Barb, told me that the agency had had a request to see our profile, and that the couple wanted us to parent their child.  Barb added that it was a unique situation because the birthparents were older than me and Shannon (at the time I was 37 and Shannon was 41) and that they were (and are) still a couple.  Barb added that the birthparents needed to put an adoption plan together, and that they wanted us.  She continued to add how tentative she and her colleagues were. No adoption situation is ever certain, and this one was even less certain the least certain they had ever seen.  Not a ringing endorsement, but Shannon and I both appreciated her incredible honesty. The birthparents did not want to meet us or know anything about us, which was (and is) a stark departure from the situation with our son's birthmother.  We adjusted to this idea and moved forward with our discussion.

Shannon and I talked and decided that the biggest mistake would be not even entertaining the idea of this baby and this situation.  We were busy with our son who was 2 1/2 at the time; we were busy with our jobs; we were busy with our friends and family.  We had been through situations similar to this a few times before, and we were certain that we could handle it.  As with our son, we told only close friends and family ALWAYS with the caveat: "They're older than we are. They are still together.  Barb is really not sure that this is going to go through."  Everyone understood.

I started to panic at the idea of 2 kids.  I don't like mess. I don't like chaos, and I could only imagine what life would be like: me, Shannon, a 2 1/2 year old, a newborn, a dog, and a job.  Chaos just seemed like the inevitable outcome.  I kept thinking, though, about the joy we had when our son came home.  I remembered how much I love my older brothers and how much fun we had as kids and still have now as adults.  Shannon's mother died in 2010.  He was his mother's only child.  One of the hardest things for him to deal with was her death, to not have anyone to share that experience with. When he told me that fact, I understood the importance of having a sibling.  When my dad died in 1996, my brothers and I spent a lot of time together remembering him and sharing stories.  Together, we were able to help my mom.  None of us was alone.  It was such a comfort, which I hadn't ever realized until Shannon experienced otherwise.

So, onward we went with Baby #2.  From December to mid-February, we acted as if nothing was going on.  Friends dropped off baby girl clothes, but I kept them in boxes in the closet.  We slowly gathered up old baby gear and got it ready, but kept everything out of sight.  I ran a marathon on February 12, 2012 in Jacksonville Beach, Florida.  Before we left, I emailed Barb and told her, "If anything with the baby happens, please call Shannon. I'm in race mode and can't deal with anything else right now."

For the entire time we were gone for the marathon, I didn't really think much about the baby.  When we returned, though, it became all-consuming.  I constantly wondered if birthmom was in labor, if she was going to change her mind, if her pregnancy had been a good one.  On Wednesday February 15, I got a call from our social worker saying that birthmom had gone in to labor and had been sent home to wait.  On Sunday morning February 19, we got a call from Barb saying that the baby had been born the night before after a 30-something hour labor which ultimately led to an emergency c-section and IV meds for the birthmom.  Given her age, I was sure that she would never let this baby go.  I wouldn't have.  Barb said that we would be able to get to the hospital later that day to meet the baby.  She said she would call us to let us know when to go.

After waiting ALL DAY, Shannon finally called our social worker at 5PM that Sunday to ask what was going on. In short, birthmom didn't want us to come to the hospital until after the hospital photographer had been there to take an official picture of the baby.  In the end, we never got to the hospital on Sunday.  For the rest of Sunday night, Shannon and I talked and talked and came to realize that if the birthmom decided to keep the baby, we would be OK with it. We wouldn't have a choice.  We would be horribly disappointed, of course, but we would learn to realize that God had other plans for us.

On Monday February 20, I went off to work prepared to never get a call from Barb, or to get the call that said, "I'm sorry, but birthmom has changed her mind."  Around 3PM that day, Barb DID call to say "Baby is ready to be picked up."  I could not believe it.  I hugged a coworker who happened to be in my office with me and ran out the door.  I called my husband, told him to meet me at home, and then flew home to get our son.

The 3 of us drove to the hospital to meet our girl who has been the most fun and most exhausting person ever.  Though I was hesitant to bring home a second child while our son was still so young, having her has been the best gift.   We are truly blessed.

It was a bumpy, emotional road with her, but it all worked out.  We have met her birthparents only once and have a good relationship with them and keep in touch via email.  In the end, we all love our daughter and want the best for her.

Thank God for adoption.  I cannot imagine my life without children.


*Names have been changed

Being a mom

I'm skipping a bit of the timeline for this one post. I'll get back on track hereafter.

There was an event in my life recently--within my extended family--that made me realize how much being a mom has changed my heart and my soul.  Perhaps you have felt like this, too.  As soon as I became a mom, in that very moment that I first held our son in my arms, one day after his birth, everything changed.  Everything!  And I don't mean the stuff every parent talks about--sleep deprivation, choice of diapers and formula, the brand of crib or sheets, taking 45 minutes to get out the house.  I mean that FEELING of feeling EVERY. SINGLE. THING.

A few weeks ago, my husband and I were watching a TV show.  In one of the beginning scenes, a mother in despair jumped off a building with her 3 month old son in her arms.  It's TV.  I get it, but even as I recall the scene, I'm in tears.  At the moment I saw it, I burst in to tears as if it were my own child who had been heaved to his death.  I don't mean to sound morbid.  My point is that I FEEL EVERY. SINGLE. THING that happens to a child.

Before children, of course I felt sadness and sorrow at wrongs done to children no matter what kind of wrong it was, no matter by whom it was perpetrated.  Children are innocent creatures to be protected by everyone.  Or, they should be.  Once I had children, though, those feelings were ramped up to a level I cannot even begin to explain or comprehend.  When one parent suffers, every parent suffers.  When one child suffers, no matter the age of the child, whether a tiny baby or an adult, every parent feels it.  I know this to be true.

Though this event in my extended family had little to do with me personally, it had everything to do with me as a mom.  I looked at this situation that had happened--to the child of a relative--and thought, "I want to kick someone's ass."  There, I said it.  I told my husband that if ANYONE ever hurt my kid, well... need I say more?  He hugged me and comforted me, having anticipated that this would be my reaction.  Even recalling this moment makes me cry.  The pain I feel for everyone--especially the parents--is almost indescribable.

When I was in 8th grade, my mom, my dad, my older brothers, and I went on a sailing trip.  My parents chartered a sailboat out of Fort Meyers, FL, and we sailed and we sailed.  Until we ran aground.  The ocean ain't like Lake Michigan.  That's for darn sure.  You have to pay attention to depth. HA! Long story short, we had to get tugged off the sandbar.  To do that, the other boat had to tie something (I can't recall what) around the mast of our boat and then pull.  My mom and I wanted to get out the way and let my dad and brothers handle the hookup.  So, we went below deck.  As the other boat started to tug us, of course the boat started to heel over, and my mom and I both feared the galley would start to fill with water.  We were nowhere even close to a situation like that, but in the moment, it was REALLY scary.

My mom looked at me, grabbed me, and shoved me up the stairs and above deck without any thought of herself.  She only cared about me and making sure that I could get out of there in one piece.  It was a classic "Mama Bear" moment.  I know it sounds so silly, but I have called her Mama Bear ever since.  I can still see her face, and it's been 26 years.

THAT is what I mean--that feeling of wanting nothing more than to protect your children.  To move mountains, to do ANYTHING to save them, to protect them, to guard them.  Sometimes I feel like I just want to put my kids in a bubble, put them and their bubble in their rooms and never let them out.

Stumbling around...

What does it mean to "stumble around" after being told you'll likely never have biological children?

Well, for me, it meant noticing every single pregnant woman present on the planet.  It felt like everywhere I turned there was some REALLY pregnant woman staring me in the face.  Whereas I had once been curious and intrigued by the process, I was, at that point, horrified. I felt like every pregnant woman was mocking me.  Of course, that was not the case, but that's how it felt.  It also felt like God was being extra cruel.   I'm sure most of ask God, or whatever/whomever you believe in, "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?"  I've seen more than my share of sorrow and sadness and death.  Though I'm only 40, I feel like, because of my life experiences, I should be about 80.  At this point in my life, it felt like God was just piling on.  "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?" became an almost-daily mantra.

Invitations to baby showers rained from my mailbox.  When I wasn't being faced, literally, with pregnant women, I was being invited to their baby showers.  Now, I must say here that I knew several things:

1. I have the best friends in the whole world.  Most of them were the ones getting pregnant, and when I came clean with them and told them hat I couldn't go, they were totally cool with it.  Not one ever questioned my fidelity to our friendship.  Every single one felt for me, comforted me, and hugged me as if it were happening to them.
2. Pregnant women were NOT the problem.  I  was the problem.
3. I do regret not attending those baby showers.
4. I do regret spending so much time feeling so negatively about others' joy.
5. I also understand that what I was feeling was totally normal and that I should let go of the regret.

Stumbling around also meant wondering if I was ever going to be a mom.  My own mother is my best friend.  I wanted to have that type of relationship with my own children. At one point, I remember saying to Shannon, "Maybe I'm not supposed to be a mom," which was something he couldn't fathom.


I started to try and get used to the idea that we would never have children.  I started to imagine a life that was just about us.  Don't get me wrong--I have LOTS of friends who do not have children.  Do not misunderstand what I am saying. As much as deciding to HAVE a child is a HUGE decision, so is the decision to NOT have a child.  For me, though, I could not imagine a life without children. Most of my adult life had contained children: my oldest nephew was born when I was 20 and a junior in college; his brother was born 15 months later, one week after my dad died; when I was 22 I moved to Paris to work as a nanny for 3 kids for almost 2 years; I returned to the States in 1998 to watch my nephews and their new sister (born just before I moved back from Paris) grow up and become the adults they are today.  My life was ALL about kids even before I had them.  I knew that they were hard work, and I wanted nothing more than to do that hard work (I remind myself of this fact on the REALLY hard days with my kids).

So, how to construct a life without them?  I simply didn't know.   Thanks to science, I didn't have to wonder.  I could let the doctors do the work for us.  Science could only go so far.  The rest was up to God.

So, what do you do with that whole 'infertility' thing?

After firing my OBGYN and her horrid nurse practitioner, I found myself on the phone with one of my best friends who is a nurse.  I was sitting in my church parking lot getting ready to go in to spend an evening with some really wonderful, spiritual people.  Just the thing I needed after hearing those unfeeling words from the NP.  My best friend said, "She doesn't know what she's talking about.  No one knows what this is all about.  Miracles happen every day.  Don't lose hope.  She's a bi&ch."  It was exactly what I needed to hear.

For the next few months, I stumbled around wondering if I was ever going to be a mother.  I had dreamed of being a mom; I had loved kids as long as I could remember.  I had started babysitting at the age of 11 and continued all the way through to the age of 24 after almost 2 years in Paris as a nanny.  Sure, babysitting and nannying isn't parenting, but I KNEW that I really liked kids and that I couldn't imagine a life without them.  I had gone through phases in my early 20s when I thought I wouldn't have kids, but that changed once my friends started getting married and having kids and, of course, when I met Shannon.

What would I be if I wasn't going to be a mom?  How could God, in whom I believe, do this to me? I, of all people, KNEW what parenting entailed.  My oldest brother had his first child when I was 20.  I was there when my nephew was born, and I was around a lot.  I saw first hand through my brother and his then-wife that parenting was a SH&T TON of work, and I wanted nothing more than to be a mom.

So, how do you redesign a life with that fact in mind? How do you put your best foot forward when you know that you may not ever get to fulfill your dream of being a mom?  How do you redo the dream?  I didn't think I could bear a life without kids.  I just couldn't.

After about 6 months of stumbling around, Shannon and I decided to start the in vitro fertilization (IVF) process.  Several months of testing told us that IVF was our only chance at having biological children.

In September 2006, that part of the process began.

Before Adoption: Engagement and the first year of marriage

When Shannon and I got engaged, we talked about when exactly we would have kids.  I wanted to wait a year after getting married.  He agreed, but because we weren't exactly very young when we got married, he wanted to leave a little room for changing our minds.

The year we were engaged flew by.  There was a lot going on in our lives and in that of my extended family.  Before I knew it, it was October 30, 2004, and we were walking down the aisle.

We enjoyed our first few months of being married.  We owned and lived in a condo near downtown Milwaukee, we went out a lot, we enjoyed restful weekends (I vaguely remember those), and I was furiously pounding out my dissertation.  Though we didn't have kids, I felt like I did: that dissertation took up all of my time when I wasn't teaching.  I loved what I was doing, so I didn't really feel like anything needed to change.

Then one day I started watching the Discovery Health channel during my lunch break. Though I worked mostly from home, I did set up regular work hours for myself.  On days I wasn't teaching, I was writing by 9AM with a break at about 10:30, another for lunch at noon until 1, and then more writing from 1 until about 5pm.  Having that structure and routine worked well.

So, during my downtime at lunch I would watch "Birth Stories" (or whatever it's called) and "Adoption Stories" on Discovery Health.  "Birth Stories" fascinated me.  It followed a woman and her partner through delivery.  The show talked with family, presented any physical and emotional challenges the woman was having, and then followed up with her after the baby was born. I learned a lot about different pregnancy ailments (placenta previa, gestational diabetes, for example), and I was totally fascinated with the process.

During those shows, I also realized that I didn't really care about becoming or being pregnant.  I just really wanted a newborn.  How we got one didn't matter (other than it had to happen legally. HA HA).

In June 2005, my mom and I went to London for about 10 days together. Shannon and I had been married almost a year, and I knew that we would be starting a family soon.  When I returned from London, Shannon and I talked about starting right then even though it hadn't been a year.  His theory, and rightly so, was that we weren't getting any younger, and that we were in a good spot, had gotten in to a good routine, so why not?

I agreed, and so started the process of a biological family.

By March of 2006, so about 9 months in to trying naturally, nothing had happened.  I had read online that for people our age (I was 31 and Shannon was almost 36), couples should give themselves 6-12 months to conceive.  Since it had been 9 months, I decided it was time to call our doctors.

Between March 2006 and April 2006, Shannon and I had several tests done.  **When all was said and done, my OBGYN's nurse practitioner told me, in a not-so-gentle way, "Based on what we see, your chances of conceiving a biological child on your own are slim to none. Your options now are either IVF or adoption."

Needless to say, I fired that OBGYN, wrote her a letter explaining why, and suggested that her NP take some communication classes.

And this is where our journey to adoption began.

**For personal reasons, I am leaving out a lot of the fertility details. If you would like to know more, you may contact me one-on-one via my Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/KathleenWhitworthWellness.
Thanks!

Disclaimers

In my video from Monday night (http://youtu.be/xBXRfStXc0k), I made a few disclaimer.  I did a few other disclaimers in last night's video, too (You can find that video on my Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/KathleenWhitworthWellness).  However, I want to put some in writing too.

1. Sharing our story is a really scary thing for me to do.  To put our really personal stuff out there for the world to see kind of freaks me out, but I believe that it will help a lot of people. Therefore, I am sharing it.  
2. I love to write personal narratives.  I always have.  The thing with that, though, is that it requires a lot of memory recall.  Given that I have two kids who keep me very busy and very tired, I can't guarantee that I can recall every detail.  If someone out there asks me a specific question, I will likely be able to dig deep to find the memory.  I don't want to pull a James Frey (http://www.vanityfair.com/culture/features/2008/06/frey200806) and pretend like I can remember everything.  (And, let me just say, I LOVED his book.  He should have probably just included a disclaimer at the beginning of his book, and all would have been right with the world).  I will always do my best to portray our story as accurately as possible.
3. Adoption is an intensely personal journey.  The decision we made along the way are ours alone. No one told us what to do or how to approach it. Our agency gave us suggestions, but, ultimately, everything was up to us. 
4. No one ever knows what he would do in any given situation until he is confronted with it, and adoption is no different. As I said in my video last night, the decision to adopt and the decisions that lie within the adoption process are as individual as the individuals who make up the process: the adoptive parents and their extended families, the birth families and their extended families, the kiddos themselves, the social workers and the adoption agencies.  I will never EVER tell any person who is considering adoption what she should do. Ever.  Shannon and I have our experiences, and I will share those, but I will NEVER tell anyone what to do.
5. My goal is to be a resource for those who are considering adoption or who know people who are.  It can be a very confusing, overwhelming process at first, mostly because, for many people, they're first told "You can't have biological children," and then they have to make a decision: Fertility treatments? Adoption? Both? Nothing?  It's a crazy, whirlwind of emotion. Those feelings are not quickly forgotten.

I look forward to sharing more and to helping as many people as possible.  Feel free to share my Facebook page (link above) and this blog link, too.

Thanks, Friends.
Kathleen

Before Adoption: When we were dating

(John Hawk's Pub, Milwaukee, WI, November 2000)

Shannon and I met initially in August 1998 at the wedding of our dear friends.  I had just moved back from Paris and was planning on moving back after finishing my M.A. at UW-Milwaukee.  I ended up loving teaching at the university level so much that I decided to stay in the States and go on for a Ph.D.

We continued to see each other once in a while through our friends over the next two years.  In April 2000, Shannon finally asked me out (I'm leaving out A LOT of details).  We had such a great time together, all the time.  I knew almost instantly that I wanted to marry him: He is a really great person; He was close to his mom, and he talked about her so kindly and positively all the time;  He has a great circle of friends who are all really nice (just like he is) and social and love to go out and have fun; He is also really supportive of every one of my endeavors.  When we started dating in April 2000, he knew that I was headed to Penn State for my Ph.D. in August of that year, and he couldn't have been happier for me.  For the 6 years I worked on my Ph.D., Shannon was one of my biggest cheerleaders.

Shortly after Shannon and I started dating we discussed having children.  During that discussion, we happened to share with each other that we wanted to adopt 1 or 2 kids.  Before ever having met him, I knew that I wanted to adopt, and I was 99% certain that I wanted to adopt domestically (more on that later).  Shannon felt the exact same way.  I knew that, were we to get married, we had the same goals when it came to starting a family: we would have 1 biological child and then adopt 1 or 2 more children.  I remember feeling really great that I had met someone who felt as strongly about adoption as I did.  I considered it a true blessing.

We had such a solid plan. I should have known that life would present challenges once we got married and decided to start a family.  My mom has always said, "If you want to know if there is a god, make plans."  She was so right.