alicia

The report

It has taken a few days, but the reality and shock of this report has settled in. Click here for the full story.

It is 40 pages long. It is basically who Keith and I are wrapped up in a paper nutshell. Unfortunately with a lot of miss truths. It is obvious to me now that Social Worker needs to work on one crucial piece of being a social worker, listening. By reading what she has written it appears that she heard the worst part of a story, situation or experience and focused only on that small piece. Not the pieces leading up to the worst part, not how we dealt with the worst part, but only the worst part was captured.

Sadly the majority of negativity was directed at me. She found many faults in my character, but the largest one being everything infertility. She came to the conclusion that I was obsessed and consumed with an absolute NEED to have biological children. I am not sure how she came to this, when obviously I was giving up on that dream by pursuing adoption? I did mention to her that I was willing to try all types of fertility treatments to really give us every opportunity to conceive, but I was learning that families are built in many ways, and adoption is such an exciting and awesome method of creating a family. I was so excited about adoption that I was willing to stop all fertility treatments and concentrate fully on adoption, if our last IUI attempt failed. Apparently she never heard any of this.

Another HUGE area of negativity towards me, was the fact that I sought out professional help for the depression I was going through. Because I was not able to conceive, because I was beginning to deal with the fact that my body might be so broken I would never experience the flutters of a baby kicking inside of me, because my dream in life was to become a mother and I was worried this may not happen, I became depressed. To me this does not seem like a shocking conclusion, I think it pretty natural for people experiencing this much pain, suffering and hurt to end up in a depressive state. And KNOWING myself so well, I realized that this depression was changing me, changing me into a person I did not recognize or like. So to prevent the black hole from consuming any more of me I got help. I saw a psychologist for 4 sessions. 4 sessions. No meds. I leant a lot in this time. I gained tools to recognize when I was slipping into sadness and how to pull myself out. I am very grateful for the things I learned, and truly believe these lessons made me a better person, a more well equipped mother. But Social worker seems to believe because I was depressed once, it will defiantly occur again. And the horrors of being a depressed person while an adoptive child was being placed with me would be too horrific to consider. I needed much more counseling to be qualified in her eyes to parent, even though according to her seeking help in the first place is what marked me un-recommendable. Makes sense yes?

She had many other points of attack towards me, she felt I was unprepared to parent a special needs child because MY WORK WITH SPECIAL NEEDS CHILDREN ended due to burn out. She never mentioned all the years I worked with teenagers and children and the huge impact those experiences played in my life. She could only focus on the reason I left my last job. I got burnt out. But she didn't bother explaining that the child I was working with was a 3 year old boy, who would never excel past the age of an infant. She neglected to say that the mother of this family was a single mom who spoke no english, who had another child who was a brainiac and ended up being the interrupter at the age of 7. She never mentioned that this boy would scream and yell and bite and pee on me, because I would turn off the tv. I had to work with him for 8 hours a day, and I was required by my agency to actually perform tasks, make records that shows progress and somehow communicate the drastic changes that needed to occur in the home for this boy to succeed. It was an impossible task for me. And when working with this child I decided that I did not want children, because the thought of my child being this severely autistic, scared me. And when I realized I was thinking those thoughts, I left. Because I knew my dream and desire in life was to become a mother, and nothing should change that passion in my heart. But all she could write in the report was that I was obviously not ready to parent a special needs child because I too easily quit when things got a little hard with my last client. She said I couldn't change him, so I left.

I really could go on and on, and Keith of course had a few attacks against him as well. Basically this report was written from someone who did not know us, who did not take the time to understand anything, someone who only hears the bad and forgets the rest. I do not feel well summarized in these 40 pages. And it saddened me greatly to think about the people who read this and came to some conclusion about me, because of what this bitch made up. It angers me to my core, heating up my insides. I want to scream off the rooftops the injustice of my government. When a couple who has soo much love to give is rejected and for horrible, false reasons and yet our government does not have the time or resources to check into all those child abuse claims, my government who gives kids to foster parents who are only in it for the money and those children live through years of terrible abuse. How is this fair? How is this right?

I spoke with our adoption worker. I could barely contain my emotions and myself. Luckily she is an understanding woman, and in the few hours we have spent together she came to her own conclusion of agreeing that this report is not accurate at all. Unfortunately it is official, and cannot be just forgotten. It will now be in our file, staining our records. She has left a large note on the report explaining that neither Keith or Alicia could sign off on this as it is not an accurate portrayal. She also said she does not agree with it, which is really what is saving us.

We have a chance to adopt again, we will have to go through another painful home study. Keith said he does not think he is willing to do this, he has been too burnt. I asked him what he would do for Twinkle, and he said anything, so I said the child/ren we are meant to adopt are the same as Twinkle, so what would you do for them, and we agreed anything.

OB number 3

I did want to mention to you all that I have received and read our official adoption report. Needless to say it ruined our night. It went way beyond what I imagined it to have, I just cannot believe the enormous difference in what she wrote and what she told us. I will do a post about this later, once I have processed it all a little more. Right now I want to tell you about the most amazing girl on the face of the planet, my Twinkle.

Ob number 3 was an interesting woman. She had awesome glasses and a crazy leopard top with black tights. She was more quick then the others, and sorta bossy. But very nice, they all have been really nice, caring women. I am VERY encouraged by that. Everyone I have meet at the clinic I would be fine with delivering my baby.

My fundus measurement (that word I know, is sooo weirdo! I brings images to my mind of a mushroom looking fetus with mold on it something) was 18". So a tad behind. Since I am almost 20 weeks, a measurement closer to 20" would be more comforting, but whatever, I am just going to have a smaller belly.

My weight 144.6lbs. AHH. Kinda getting frustrated over here body. I am STILL not at my pre pregnancy weight of 145. I am halfway done this pregnancy and still have not gained a pound??? They were not concerned though, I went up 4 lbs since the last appointment and that’s all they want to keep seeing, that I am gaining some weight, even if I lost a load before. The nurse said that they had a meeting on Tuesday night about the new ideal weight gain for Canadian pregnant women, and she said that they are now encouraging women to be only gaining 20-25lbs during their pregnancies. Sooo I guess if things stay the same I will be in that range.

She reviewed my thyroid results and was happy to hear what the endocrinologist had said. She looked in my ear cause I have been losing hearing on and off in my right ear, apparently it is a little waxy! So it needs to be cleaned out, which sounds creepy, but I miss being able to hear.

Then she reviewed the 18 week ultrasound results. Twinkle once again is measuring PERFECT! Every ultrasound we have see measures exactly at the day she is at. So her due date is still April 19th! She is looking perfectly healthy, brain, heart, limbs etc are measuring great! The only negative thing, the placenta is currently directly on top of my cervix.

What this means is that I need another ultrasound at 27 weeks, if it still has not moved I am a guaranteed c-section. This kinda bummed me out. I really want to give natural labor a try, I always thought that if it was too horrible or long or whatever I would give in to the meds, but I wanted to at least try to do it natural. Now I know the only goal is having a healthy baby girl. And I will do whatever I have to to make that happen. I was just a little disappointed, but whatever. She is healthy and doing great, that is all I could ask for. And as a silver lining to the cloud, it means I get ANOTHER ultrasound, YUPPEEE!

So good appointment. I can't believe that in 20 weeks and 3 days she will be here! ahhhhhh.

Struck Down

I am not sure how to even begin this post, and I already know I will not get through it with out crying.

To ease your now freaking out minds, Twinkle is ok, I am ok…health wise (sorta, still puking my face out).

Keith and I experienced probably one of the biggest blows I could ever imagine. I know worse things have happened to better people, but to me, in my lifetime, nothing has stung so badly as the news Keith had to share with me yesterday.

Adoption Worker finally called us. She left a message for Keith on Wednesday night, something I was originally confused about, because I had told her to call ME for anything, as Keith forgets, or is delayed in returning important phone calls. I now understand her reasoning.

Social Worker did not recommend us to be adoptive parents.

Yes, go back and re read that sentence, cause if you are in a state of shock and disarray then you may have a tiny bit of the feelings I had last night.

Why you ask? Because of infertility. I thought we had finally escaped this hell, at least for now. I thought we had triumphed over the curse, the sting, the horror that is infertility and now it has to come back into our lives with a path meant only for destruction.

Because I have suffered through 2 years of disappointments, cycle after cycle of blood instead of 2 pink lines, gone through depression and agony, because my whole world was shattered when I truly started to believe I would not ever carry a baby inside me, because of these things, because of this horrific circumstance I sought help. I went to a psychologist, and I will admit I went crazy. You may remember this time, cause I blogged a lot about it. I don't know about your thoughts, but something this huge, this life altering is defiantly going to impact me, it is defiantly going to leave scars. And there is NO way in hell I am going to apologize for it. Any emotion, any behavior any action I did as a result of being infertile I believe was entirely justified.

My government seems to think otherwise. Because I have suffered a tragedy, one that will always be unrecognized, not understood, overlooked and brushed off in our society, I am now not qualified to parent.

But any crack head, teenager, alcoholic, monster can have a baby. They can even have this baby and abuse it, neglect it, hurt it and our government, the one that is too busy, too overworked to get these kids out of bad homes, has the time, and the audacity to tell me I am not fit to parent.

Even after all this hurt, after hearing once again infertility has ruined another part of our lives, it is not the thing that stinged most from this news.

Throughout this process Keith and I have been so patient, so understanding. We have put up with the mounds of paperwork, with harassing and even nagging friends and family to fill out reference forms, having some of the hardest talks with each other and our friends about what adoption means for us, we went through classes and seminars and read books and visited web-sites. We even had to put our lives out in the open for a stranger to analyze. We welcomed Social Worker into our home, we were very patient with her as she was new at this, we let her dissect our lives into pieces and let her judge us and our character. We did it all with a smile, because we understood this process had to be done. By the end of this whole ordeal, Social Worker came once again into our homes, and she sat down in front of us with a huge smile on her face and said right to us, "I am recommending you to be adoptive parents. I don't see any reason why you should not be able to adopt." And then she took a step farther by saying to us "You will have a child by December."

What do you think a person, who at that stage, was convinced this was the only way she would ever become a parent, would do with that statement? I clung to it, I absorbed it and I praised it. I would have a child by Christmas! I was finally going to be a parent! I soaked in her words like someone breathing air for the first time after drowning. I trusted her.

In my mind I cannot think of a worse thing to do to another human being. To enter their home, with a fake smile and tell this family, who is so desperate for a child that they will be approved and that they will have one soon, knowing it was all a lie. Knowing she was going to go home to her child and husband, and then write a report saying that she DOES NOT think we are suitable adoptive parents.

The knife stabbed in my back is a deep one, a hurtful one, and it will leave a very large mark. I have been shaken to the core, and last night was consumed with the evil thoughts that come when you are down, if a trained professional does not think I can parent a child, what will I end up doing to Twinkle? Will he grow up to be some kind of murder? Will I mess him up so bad with my bad parenting that there will be no saving him?

Keith was determined not to let me think like this, but it is really hard.

But shockingly out of this horrific event, some wonder has come out of it.

You cannot call what I have had lately with God a relationship; you cannot call it anything but me being a selfish, winy, brat, who just entirely stopped caring about the greater power in this world. But on Wednesday night I was challenged. I was slapped in the face and remained of who my God is, and what He can do. That night was the first night in this pregnancy that I really stopped and thought about the incredible miracle Twinkle is. What every baby ever born is. That night I let go the gripping fear I was holding onto, that God had some sort of corrupt evil plan for me and my child and He would not let Twinkle ever be born alive. I let go of this warped thinking and finally trusted God that He has a plan for Twinkle and a purpose for him. 

It is funny that as soon as we start to fill safe with God again, as soon as we start to come back from a long journey away, something always seems to be thrown in our path to try to turn us away. 

This adoption fiasco I believe to be just that. It was thrown into our faces, right when things seemed to be looking up. 

But it didn't work, evil ones out there, it didn't work. 

Now, more then ever I am beyond thankful, beyond blessed and beyond grateful for this pregnancy. Receiving this news and not being pregnant would have shattered me to pieces unfixable. I know this, God knew it, and Adoption Worker knew it and is why she told Keith the news and not me. 

It seems crazy, cliché and annoying to say, but I am starting to understand Gods strange timing for this pregnancy. If we had gotten pregnant 2 years ago when we began trying, we would have not started down the path to adoption, it was something we both wanted to do, but who knows if we would have ever took the time to think about if it were not for infertility. If we had gotten pregnant sooner in the adoption process we would have possibly just forgotten about adoption and moved on. But if we had not gotten pregnant at the exact time we did, we would have received this news with no child in sight, with no family pictured in the future, and that would have killed me. Receiving the news now, still hurts more then anything I have experienced, but I am still the most blessed person on the planet to be carrying Twinkle. 

Adoption Worker did say that if we chose to do some counseling and went through another home study that they would still consider us to be adoptive parents. Well infertility at this time is not such a big issue any more, and we were prepared to have to do another home study when we did become ready to start the adoption process again. So this is doable.  

But do not think I am just going to forget about this. I plan on writing Social Worker an e-mail, she made the mistake of leaving me with her personal e-mail, and I will make sure she knows the pain she has caused my family. I also intend to write an e-mail to her supervisor and let them know that she should not be practicing social work if it is in her policy to lie to the people she is supposed to be helping. I will also be calling Adoption Worker and telling her we are pregnant, but later in life would still want to adopt, and I plan on filling her in on all the false promises Social Worker gave us and recommend that for her case load she no longer use the services of this Social Worker. 

So right now, how I feel, is everything. I am so mad, so hurt, so crushed, so deflated, yet happy, blessed and thankful. It will be a hard day sifting through all these emotions. I imagine I will be spending much time in the bathroom stalls continuing to cry this out. 

Thank you in advance for your sweet words of encouragement.  

4th and 4th

4th and 4th is a game. You look in your 4th picture folder and find the 4th picture.

The 4th folder on my computer was our "adoption worker" folder. The 4th picture was this beauty. me and Keith at Universal Studios in Orlando! Our most favorite trip ever. Seeing this picture and knowing why that folder was created, got me thinking about adoption.

I haven't spoken much about adoption lately. We still haven't heard anything new. We are currently stil waiting to be approved as adoptive parents. The applications, paperwork, 4 homestudies and friend and family interviews are done. We were told we would hear from our adoption worker late August early September, well it is now mid October and still no word.

I don't know if this is a bad thing, good thing or normal thing, but it worries me a little. I know when she does finally call I will have to explain to her that we are pregnant. I am dreading this conversation. Not because I think she will be upset with me, or say something like "You shall never adopt then!" I honestly feel like I am letting down some child out there. The child we were preparing for, the one or ones we had begun to focus on. I understand their rule of waiting till any birthed child is 1 before adopting, because that baby needs bonding time, with out the insane process of adding older children to the mix. But even though I know the logic, I am still sad, not for me, but for the child who may have been close to having a forever family.

I hope that great families will come along and adopt some of these children. I know these kids never knew of me and Keith and were never imagining our life together. So they won't be disappointed by us personally, but everyday they go on without a family is another day the world disappoints them. That just breaks my heart when I think about it.

Keith and I will adopt. We have said that to any one who asks about it. I am not sure when, or how it will work out, but it has been put in my heart to adopt. And I am excited for it!

So little ones, wherever you are, possibly not even conceived yet, your forever family is already thinking about, praying for and loving you.

What about adoption?

A question that is on my mind a lot and I am sure on some of yours. I didn't feel ready to talk about this till now, because I wanted to really celebrate this amazing pregnancy, and because I am sad about this issue.

Our social worker has told us that if we were to become pregnant we would have to stop the adoption process and re-commence it where we left off once our biological kids are 1 years old. She also said that normally with a pregnancy people do not say anything until the 2nd trimester, obviously we have not followed that rule, and that she would not expect us to tell the adoption people any sooner, I think we will take that advice. Sadly these babies are far from being alive in our arms, anything can happen, and sadly at any time. I am really not trying to think about that, we are trying to stay very positive. But if the worst were to happen, I would be so upset if I also had to go through more work to start up the adoption process again.

So the plan is to say nothing. We should be contacted by the Adoption Worker either this week, or early Sept telling us we have been approved and that matching can begin. And who knows, maybe they will match us right away to the perfect child and we will be able to adopt and be pregnant! This is really positive thinking, as realistically I don't imagine that would happen. We will probably be matched closer to Nov/Dec and at that point we would have to tell them we are expecting. Which will be hard.

But, Keith and I WILL adopt. It may not be soon, but we have always said we will adopt and we still plan to.

My heart is breaking a little for having to make our adopted children, whoever they are, wait a little longer. Who knows they may not even be born yet, but my heart was there, it was ready to adopt, it had secretly given up hope for fertility treatments and was only going through the motions to appease Keith, family, friends, who ever, but what I was looking forward to and excited about was meeting my beautiful children who have been growing in my heart.

Please don't misunderstand, I am beyond thrilled to be pregnant, I am still stunned. I can barely believe it is me, ME that is pregnant. I honestly came to the place where I did not think it was in the cards for us and had let go of that need. And I realize how extremey, extremely, blessed I am to be pregnant and have adoption both as real, happening events.

So little ones, where ever you are, here on earth or in the womb, or not even conceived yet, I still love you, I still cannot wait to meet you. I am so thrilled to be your soon to be mom, but right now I am working on some brothers and sisters for you. Soon they will be out experiencing this world and as soon as they are old enough we will be working towards bringing you home again.

My stork arrived wearing heels

If I am ever questioned about how I can consider internet buddies real friends, I will direct them to the comments on yesterdays post. Thank you friends.

 

I wrote that post yesterday, because I wanted to start August and the start off our third year trying to conceive, on a positive, uplifting, hopeful note. I did not want to mention the negatives today, because this 3rd year will be the most wonderfully, amazing year of my life. Cause this year, we will possibly get pregnant with this current IUI or the next one, which means we will be brining babies home in this third year. If both of these IUI's fail, then we will be matched with our adopted child before Christmas! So either way you look at it, this 3rd year will bring to me what I have most desired, the title of mom. How can I not be pumped and joyous and giddy with delight when I look at all the exciting things to come. But I needed to write the Cracked Clay Pot, because I needed to get over my date setting need and let go, and realize that my life is pretty freakin fantastic! 

 

PS: Do we think this is a sign???

 

 

 

Two storks, swimming around in the lake that Keith and I walk past everyday. They have NEVER been here before in the 2 years we have walked through this park. To me the symbolism of this is huge. It could mean that right now we are possibly expecting twins! Or that these storks decided to show themselves on the 1st day of our third year of trying as a sign and reassuring symbol that this year our children are coming.

 

PS These birds could possibly be pelicans, I am no bird expert, but please leave me to my delusional thinking that they are storks, thank you.

Cracked Clay Pot

Tomorrow we start a new month, normally not a occasion to bring pause. But for me, for us, August officially declares the 2 year mark.

2 years of being hopeful each month, only to be constantly let down. 2 years of of dreaming and plan making and nothing to show for it. 2 years of endless tears, of fights, of heartache, of depression, of hate, of rage, of losing faith, of sleepless nights, of nightmares and constant, unfounded nagging hope.

2 years of trying to conceive a child, something that comes so naturally to most, so effortlessly, and we have nothing.

In my mind I set goal dates for myself, as I am sure many of you do. First it was I will be pregnant before the  time comes, when my friend who we hoped and planned to get pregnant together, gave birth. That date came. Then it was, I will get pregnant before I am a year at my job, I am almost at 2 years. Then it was before Grace, my friends baby, turned one. That was in May. Then it was before the cruise, I have to be pregnant on that cruise, my drunken adventures proved otherwise. And lastly it was before the 2 year mark. It just has to be before August. I told myself I would die and crumble apart of each of these goals were not met, but I survived, I am still here. But looking at this time frame, at this deadline, I become filled with worry. True worry, this may just never happen.

I could so easily break apart, I could cave to the dark rooted temptation of just letting the bitterness, the pain, the hurt and the suffering fully consume me. I feel so close to that thin line of surviving each day and just jumping off the cliff, that I start to stumble. I want to scream and rage at the world for the pure unfairness, this unjust hand that we have been delivered. Why me, why us, why why why? It's to easy to give in. With all the constant reminders of my childless state, I have been reduced to numbness in situations. These nudges, the story of another teenage girl getting pregnant, another baby seized from a coke addicted mother, children being neglected and abused, how easily monsters are given such a precious gift.

So I become a broken clay pot, one that was molded, shaped and created with love, who made it through the kiln, was painted with radiant colors and then dropped from a great distance, to be smashed into unrecognizable pieces. And because the cause of this drop is infertility, not cancer, not death, not loss, I am forced to pick up these pieces myself. Cause the glue friends and family bring is "Don't worry you are young." "Just relax and it will happen." "Why don't you just adopt." "When you adopt you will get pregnant FOR sure." "You haven't been trying that long." "Life is soo much better off without kids, see you don't want these things!" "You can have mine [children]." So I slowing work and putting the pieces back together, but because of my isolation I don't have the proper resources and tools to put together a whole clay pot. So my repairs are cheap and temporary and with the slightest bump I crash into all those small pieces again.

The majority of the past 2 years have been this way, have been this fragile.

Luckily I found my glue, the best glue. The glue you can only get from empathy, compassion, support and help. It started with a small group of girls on a internet trying to conceive message board. I found answers, support and love there. It then broke out into the blog community when I realized that my friends, family and the world were not going to learn about infertility and the devastating effects of it, if we all remain quite. So I shared my story with the world, and people learned, and people changed and those same family and friends who unknowingly left me alone to pick up the pieces with their comments are now the ones rallying behind me, cheering me on, praying for me, holding me when I cry and celebrating with me the small achievements in this journey. And I know, and look forward to the day that we will all have the greatest party and celebration when we do conceive or when we do adopt.

These 2 years have been the hardest of my life, they have changed me and challenged me and permanently scared me, they have glaringly showed the weakness in my marriage and the severe flaws in my character. I can say that the pot is back together now, it looks quite different, almost unrecognizable.  It has long cracks that have been sealed and re-colored, but will always be visible. It has new curves and bends as the intense heat that was required to keep it held together, has warped it. But I am proud to say it is beautiful. It is even more beautiful then when it started, because now, after these few years, I have learned so much about myself, and the courage and inner strength that I have, I have learned that I have a husband who is going to stand by me now matter what hell comes our way, and I have learned that the world is full of kind, generous, wonderful people that through a computer screen can change my world. That a virtual hug can sooth my pain, that an internet friend is every bit just as real as a real life friend. I see my in real life friends coming together to support me, holding me in the rough spots and I have seen my family change their thought processes and attitudes because they care so deeply for me. So how, after all this, could a clay pot not be more beautiful, because without these 2 years, none of this would have been realized, I would never have meet some of the best friends I have, and I would never have turned out to be such a unique pot. I would still be show room perfect pot, and who wants a perfect pot?

 

picture from:   flickr.com/photos/blindgrasshopper/2125735407/

Signs that I am doing better:

1. When I went to fill my script for Clomid at my pharmacy, my normal, wonderful, pharmacist was not there. Instead a woman around 35-40 was working. She happily came over to help me. I asked for my Clomid prescription and she smiled. "Have you cycled yet?" I happily reported that I was on day 2 and that this was our 5th time on Clomid, I jokingly said that I was now the Clomid master. She replied "I have 2 Clomid babies, 150mg mind you, but it worked for me!" I smile, managing to stay calm, "oh that is excellent, we are doing IUI's with the Clomid, we are hoping for the best!" She then goes on to tell me that with her first husband she was so stressed and did not ovulate, therefore why the Clomid was needed. But then with her second husband, her "inner dragon" (yes actual words used) was released as she got pregnant naturally 2 more times with him! "Oh that is wonderful for you I reply." Totally not burning with jealously, really I was fine. Then she leans over the counter real close to me and whispers "And we just found out we are expecting our 5th!" She hands me my script, I give her the CONGRATS she was waiting for and head toward the aisle with kitchen knives to stab myself. NO I didn't, I walked away smiling to myself. I was fine.

2. Walking to work this morning I ran into my old physiotherapist. I saw him for over a year, during all my knee surgeries. Every visit I had to get this electro shock thing done to my knee, you can't be pregnant to have this therapy. So I ended up having to tell him our fertility challenges and how we were trying. So every visit, the first question was "So are you pregnant yet?" Of course I never was. He and his wife were not trying when I started with him. At the end of the year they had began trying. My next visit, also one of the last visits as he was leaving to start his own company,  he told me they were expecting. I was jealous then. This morning I ran into him and his new baby. I was so happy for them, I ooed and ahhed over the little bald head and got many giggles from him. We talked about our adoption plans, infertility treatments and how his wife’s labor went. It was great talking to him, and I was so genuinely excited for them that I began to plan the baby card I would send him as soon as we were done talking. I was fine.

3. There are rumors about, and some friends who are pregnant or trying for their second babies. Their firsts were conceived close to when we started trying. This kind of news I imagined would throw me into a panic attack, screaming and cursing the heavens for my lackage of baby. But now hearing this news, my heart fills with gladness for these friends, cause they deserve to expand their families, and I wish them all the success in the world with their seconds. I'm fine.

It's funny how we change, and I am sure once the Clomid kicks in these feelings of love and happiness will turn into rage and loathing, but until then I can be happy for these people, and happy for me. I may not have a baby or child yet, but I can stay out all night partying it up! I can travel and not worry about child arrangements. I can do spontaneous activities! I can spend money on shoes! I can eat out and sleep in!

I would give it all up in a second though, but right now, today, I will bask in my childlessness! Cause dudes I am feeling like the golden barren one or something. I want to prance around with fertility statues hanging from my arms letting the world know that “Yes I may not be able to conceive, but I WILL HAVE CHILDREN and I am fine.”

Who wants to join me?

PS: Did you notice my new little timelines on the sidebar! More celebrating of how long all this wonderful crap has been happening! Joyous!

PSS: No I have not been doing my Wii Fit, so STOP HARASSING ME FOR FREAKS SAKE. I am avoiding it cause Wii Fit board is going to run me over the coals!

 

Escape

I have been told a few times, by various people, that I am always so positive, so optimistic. I don't really know if this is true, if you lived in my head for a day you might not think so. But I was thinking, what would make people say this to me? How could I, me! be positive, when there is so much stress going on in my life?

I was thinking about this, when my song came on, you know THAT song. Everyone has one, I have a few, but right now there is a specific one. I turned up the volume until I could not hear my thoughts. I let the notes wash over me and through me, and like a sponge I soaked in the harmonies, the instruments, the lyrics. I let myself drift away and just breathe the music in. Once the song was finished I hit repeat and kept turning it up louder when I adjusted to the noise level. Every thought, every worry, every concern disappeared because I was lifted out of myself and left to only the song. I escaped.

And that’s when it hit me. The reason I can be positive, the explanation of why I may seem optimistic to some is that I have escapes. Music is not the only one.

When I pick up a book it does not take long until I am absorbed by it. I no longer have a sense of presence, I do not feel like I am sitting on my couch, I do not even know I exist, because I become the story. The words gently stroke my mind until I am lifted away from myself and I no longer read words, but the words play themselves out into a reality that I enter. I walk the paths of the characters, I feel their emotions, and I cry their tears. Books, like no other tool, have the ability to completely separate me from my own existence. They get to the point of being dangerous for me, because when I have to stop reading I have to take time and remember which person I am. I am no longer that person in the story, but me, in my normal world.

I also have art. I gather my supplies, my tools and I start envisioning. I see the pieces in front of me, but soon I no longer see the individual pieces but how together they can create something new, something beautiful, something tangible and yet surreal. I focus on this vision, I lose myself to this idea and I no longer control my hands, but let the artistic juices surge through my body until it starts to create. It is a glorious process of how a plan piece of paper, an empty page on a sketchpad, a blank card can transform into a little masterpiece. I am taken away from the world of stress and gloom that I know and am plunged into this place of color, light, texture and shadow until the piece is done. Sometimes I could not even describe to you how it was created, as I barely have a memory of it. I just hold onto my escape and marvel at it, and am filled with a true sense of pride.

I started to think of all the escapes I have, like food, how new exciting food involves all my senses and can bring me to a new experience away from my norm. Or hiking, how the scenery of the mountains, hills, plains can steal away my breathe. Or a moment of encounter with God, they are rare these days, but when they happen you forget how to speak, to move and to breathe and the world around you crumbles away as you realize the only thing that matters. Or a belly of a cat, or a movie to be lost in, or a afternoon of cuddles with my husband. I am lucky to have so many of these escapes.

I started thinking that maybe these escapes are not healthy, that leaving life, what it truly is, to be whisked away to new places, heights and realities is running away. It is not how life should be lived. So I began to think of life without my escapes, what it would look like, how it would feel. Right now, without these things, there would not be a lot of smiles and laughter. I would be overcome with my constant need to control, worry and stress. I would be lost in my sadness and it is easy for me to see why people would swallow a bottle of Tylenol.

I am called optimistic because I am able to escape often and so easily. So I can leave my need of control, my stress, my worry, I can take a break and then return with refreshing new attitude. A renewed sense of my life, and myself and I am able to smile during the storm, I am able to laugh amongst the suffering and I am able to love when I feel clouded by hate.

I notice myself reaching out and seeking these tools a lot this week. Possibly because I have now scheduled my second IUI procedure for the week of the 21st. A procedure I am conflicted about, because I so long for the experience of pregnancy, but I know there are children, my wonderful children who will spent more time apart from me if I carry a child. I am desperately trying to leave this in Gods hands. What comes first is meant to be. A control freak giving up control is not an easy thing, and usually fails. I worry about everything that could happen between now and then. Then. What is then? It's everything I suppose.

Then is not really worth worrying about is it? So I think I will escape.   

Blank

I am having troubles thinking of something to write. I am feeling empty. I am not depressed or walking down that road again, I am just feeling the hole in my heart a little. It has left me tired and drained it seems.

I am not sure what triggered it and I am trying desperately to focus only on the positive of my life. I have Keith, who is the most rockstar husband ever, I have a good job that is flexible with my infertility, I have great supportive friends but that spot that wants to be a mother and have children to love, seems to be shadowing over the good stuff.

I know we have good things coming and good things planned. Hopefully we can start our second IUI any day now, as soon as Aunt Flo makes her appearance. Maybe this is the IUI we have been waiting for, maybe finally after almost 2 years of trying this will be our answer. I also spoke with our Social Worker. She said her supervisor should have approved our report by the end of the week, and then it will be passed on to our Adoption Worker, who, with her team, will review the report and then meet with us to discuss the next steps in August or September. All of this is happening soon, not much longer to wait.

But I still have to wait, and this waiting is slowly eating at me. Tiny bit, by tiny bit, the hole in my heart and spirit is growing. This whole journey seems to revolve around waiting. Waiting to get pregnant, waiting to hit the year mark already so you can be referred to the fertility clinic. Waiting to get in to the fertility clinic, waiting for your the tests to come back, waiting for cycles to cooperate to get the treatments, the brutal two week wait, the wait for the next treatment, the wait for the adoption application forms, waiting for the security checks and clearances, waiting for the seminar and orientation, waiting for meetings and home studies, waiting for finished reports, waiting for approval, waiting to be matched.

Is life only ever going to be waiting, or will I ever feel I am finally there, finally at the place of pure enjoyment and no more waiting?

I think I need to buy some more shoes to get out of this pity party.