Cancer Ever After

Musings on Infertility, Adoption, Cancer and Widowhood.

A “Real” Pregnancy

It’s funny, but one of the hardest parts of going through infertility is that when you do finally get pregnant, you expect to have the ideal pregnancy. And when you lose a baby, you become the world’s most paranoid pregnant lady. Between the two, I was a pretty freaked out pregnant lady with high expectations when I got pregnant with my girls.

Of course, my only successful pregnancy didn’t go as planned. I was a nervous wreck until 12 weeks passed and was in a haze of joy. Then all hell broke lose at 15 weeks and the complications began. I think this is why the adoption feels more like a “real” pregnancy to me. Because of all of the testing and treatments I had when I was pregnant, we knew we were having twin girls at 12 weeks. We didn’t go through all the anticipation of a gender ultrasound. By the time the first ultrasound would normally have rolled around, I was having weekly ultrasounds with two different doctors and being monitored by three specialists. Everything about my pregnancy was scripted and involved about a million and three people in scrubs in the room with me at all times.

Adoption isn’t without typical pregnancy symptoms, though. I’ve burst into tears randomly in so many places: at the attorney’s, in my van, at the grocery store depositing my first check from fundraising, and yes, even watching TV. There was an episode of “Chopped” when the winner said he was going to use the money to begin the adoption process because he and his wife were infertile. I just lost it and hugged my girls.

This adoption is so different from what I anticipated when we debated going this route years ago, and honestly, it feels a lot more like I expected to feel in a normal pregnancy. It was completely unexpected, in an excited-terrified-joyous kind of way. A complete “oh, shit” moment came shortly afterwards as the reality of everything began to sink in. But, while it’s not worry-free, I don’t have a daily paralyzing fear that something will go terribly wrong.

I may not feel the baby kick or wiggle, but, ever since I’ve found out about the adoption, I’ve had visions of a smiling baby with dark curly hair and beautiful brown eyes. Whether he comes from my body or someone else’s, this child will be loved and it will be ours.

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