Cancer Ever After

Musings on Infertility, Adoption, Parenthood and Cancer

Fire Drill!

“We’ve finally got your background check back in. Does this Thursday work for you for the first home visit?”

$*#&@*. While I am utterly relieved and feel vindicated that my background check did not show me to be a spy during the extra month of unending waiting for it to come back, I wasn’t expecting the home study to be scheduled with so little notice.

Tim and I had asked lots of questions about what would be reviewed during the home study and I, in my usual fashion, had made lists of the things we needed to accomplish: install fire extinguishers, test all of the smoke alarms, get an extra smoke alarm/carbon monoxide detector for Baby H’s room, clean the house from top to bottom, finish baby-proofing doors and the tall cabinets now that the girls can climb, tackle the organization problem in the master bath…the list was exhaustive and seemingly endless.

And we’d accomplished exactly ZERO of them.

Between the fundraising, making cupcakes, the biggest alliance partnership in the history of my company being launched and completing essay after essay after essay for the home study, we have been tapped out the last few weeks. Both girls developed a bad diaper rash out of nowhere, our cloth diapers needed to be stripped ( a two-day process), I needed to get a million things done for the fundraiser on Saturday…

And Phoebe was sick. Again.

This time we had to take her to an allergist and immunologist. I broke down after that appointment. I hate taking her to a place that makes her cry, and she has been to so many doctors that she cries as soon as she recognizes the type of place that we are in. Sometimes Hazel chimes in out of sympathy. Luckily, this time there weren’t any blood draws or anything painful for her. We have a new regimen for her breathing treatments and inhalers and hopefully we’ll get through the rest of the winter without incident.

This was just one of those days where everything seemed to be piling on to break me. Tim and I want this baby so badly and we are so afraid of doing something wrong and screwing it up. When I got the news about the last-minute home study, I knew it was time to call in reinforcements.

One mass text and several responses later, we had help lined up for the next couple of days. A couple of late evenings and a little flexibility occurred in the form of working from home, so I could shuffle everything successfully and swap loads of laundry over during conference calls and between meetings.

I could breathe again. Sometimes you have to break down in order to get clearheaded. We began breaking everything into manageable pieces that we could tackle, and getting everything ready for the home study actually went much better than we expected. Apparently, we are much more efficient at cleaning and organizing since we’ve had kids. We expected to pull an all-nighter before the home study, but we managed to be in bed by 10:30, which in parent time is the equivalent of 2:00 a.m. Not too bad.

AND OUR HOME STUDY WENT REALLY WELL! She had zero concerns, and walked around our house asking questions about the safety and how we did things. It went so well that a follow-up visit doesn’t look necessary at this point. (Makes me proud of my prep list.) We are at the finish line! We should have the final home study within two weeks and then we are ready for Baby H to come at any time.

 

Advertisements
Leave a comment »

Curveball

“I want you to be in the room with me during the birth.”

This may surprise you, but my first reaction was total panic. I have no idea what happens during labor! Hell, I barely understand what happens in a normal pregnancy. My pregnancy consisted almost entirely of morning-till-night puking and then months of left-side leaning.

Despite all of the complications, it was actually my water breaking that determined when my girls made their entrance into this world. And then, after being reassured that it was very unlikely I would go into labor and having my c-section scheduled for four hours later, my contractions started. I (who hadn’t had a single Braxton Hicks contraction during my entire pregnancy) went into full-blown labor immediately with contractions less than two minutes apart. My scheduled c-section quickly turned into an emergency one. From there, I only remember a few things: Hazel’s first cry, Phoebe’s first cry and seeing my girls for the first time before they were whisked to the NICU. I vaguely remember urging my husband to go with them to make sure they were okay. The last thing I remember is the two surgeons calling for a third because there were complications.

When I woke up, they wheeled me into the NICU to see my babies. And then nothing else mattered.

As you can see, this experience has in no way prepared me for a normal labor and delivery. I don’t know what someone goes through or what I should do as I’m by her side. At the same time, being there with her and seeing my son born will be one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

Once I let the idea sink it, I became overwhelmed at the possibility and realized I couldn’t be more honored. That is such a personal moment and it’s amazing that I will get to be there when our son takes his first breath. The only shadow is that my husband can’t be there, too. He would love to, and, since he works in the medical field, is probably the wiser choice. But, well, he IS a guy. I get it. If I had my choice, the 26 doctors and nurses in the room with me would have all have been women.

I once compared this pregnancy to my pregnancy and said that this felt more like a “real” pregnancy to me in a lot of ways. This is still true. I just never expected labor and delivery to be one of the things that made this a more “normal” pregnancy. When we began considering adoption (prior to having our girls), I wondered if I would be missing out on the experience of a pregnancy. I now see that there are so many versions of what a pregnancy is like. I think infertiles rarely get the storybook version. If I’m able to be there through the delivery, this pregnancy will be far more like the one I always thought I would have.

So if you are considering adoption or surrogacy and are afraid you will miss out on the pregnancy experience, take heart. A surrogate can include you in her pregnancy and you will have your very own pregnancy experience. A birth mom can do the same. And also keep in mind that the vision you’ve built up in your mind may not happen in any of the scenarios. No matter the path, there is always one thing that will surpass your expectations: your child.

The path we’ve traveled opened us to the possibility of adoption. That’s what made our hearts scream yes, when every practical fiber in our bodies cautioned no. It’s also taught us to listen to our hearts. In the end, this journey will bring us to our son. It may be unexpected, it may not happen exactly as we envision, but I have no doubt that he will surpass every one of our expectations.

1 Comment »

The Line

As I go through this process, I’ve noticed an adoption narrative that I am just not comfortable with. I’m not rescuing this child from a terrible and awful situation. Because I have a better job, am more established and have more resources at my disposal, does not automatically make me a better parent. The choices I make as a parent and my willingness to learn, improve and adapt are what give me the ability to become a great parent. But I have to constantly work and strive to be a better parent. Resources do not automatically equal greatness.

I’ve been told that I could raise more money for the adoption if I focused on how I am saving this child. But I won’t go there. I simply don’t believe it to be true. I feel so strongly about this because of my background. My mom got pregnant and married at 17 and then had four more kids in rapid order. She had five kids by the age of 25 with little education or job skills. And then my parents divorced. A home that had just enough to scrape by was torn into two homes that couldn’t quite make it.

I got my first job at 10 busing tables, and by 12 was helping to cover electric bills–but that was temporary as we got on our feet. My mom was determined to provide for us and to make our lives better. She entered into a management training program at work and got her bachelors degree while I played volleyball, hung out with friends and finished high school. Long before I managed to graduate college, she had her master’s degree and had opened her own business.

Through it all, she was there for all of us. Sometimes she was tough, and lord knows you don’t want to get on her bad side, but she was a great mother. Amazing children are produced by single-parent households, and amazing people grow up in families that don’t have a lot. It’s all about the characteristics you instill in your children and how you encourage them. My mom taught me the value of hard work and that it’s not really work if you love what you do. She always encouraged me to strive to be my best and told me that limits exist only in my mind; when I see a ceiling I should break on through.

I don’t know what is in store for our birth mother. I don’t know the choices that she will make. But I do know she is making a pivotal one now, one that will reverberate through the rest of her life. My hope is that by digging so deep and asking us to raise her son in a house with more opportunities and resources, she will be able to focus on her life. She wants to complete her GED and get her nursing certification. I hope that happens.

I also know there is a chance that she will change her mind.  That is why it is so  important for me to cling to the knowledge that if she decides to parent this child, he’ll be loved. Time will tell which one of us will kiss his boo boos and kiss him goodnight.

I hope it’s me, but I have to think that she will aspire to greatness if she keeps him.  I know she loves him too, to go through this and then hand him over to someone else to raise. In some ways, I think he is doubly blessed. He’s not even here yet and so many people love him.

Leave a comment »

Penny Wise, Pound Foolish

Our birth mother doesn’t like her counselor. This is a big problem.

“A good counselor can be the difference in an adoption going through or failing,” said my very staid and serious attorney. The birth mother not liking her counselor worries me. And it’s not just about the adoption going through (although I want it, too). The counselor is there for her after the adoption, as well.

This is the person who helps her on the path of healing. Even though the adoption was her idea and she requested it, this will be a loss, and she will need to mourn and heal. It’s important to us that she have a good counselor.

When we began looking at home study agencies and counselors, we went with our second choice for both because the second choice agency offered an economical package for both options. This was the only place that could coordinate both the home study and counseling. The price tag also swayed us. And at that time, I spoke to their counselor and loved her, so it seemed like the perfect solution.

Then our birth mother moved and received a new counselor–a counselor neither one of us is very impressed with. She missed an appointment, and then she was late for the next one. She seems scattered and, quite frankly, doesn’t focus on what our birth mother wants or needs. Now I feel like we made a poor choice because we were worried about the cost. And this was all BEFORE the appointment in which the counselor spent a total of 10 minutes with her in the presence of the driver I had arranged. And none of that time was spent talking about the adoption. NOT IMPRESSED.

After talking to our attorney and going over everything we learned in this process, we decided it was time to find a new counselor. I contacted my original first choice. She costs a lot more, but I LIKE her so much more, and I think our birth mother will as well. At least, I hope so. She needs have support as she continues down this path. Our birth
mother is going to meet with both counselors next week and let us know who she would prefer to work with. I just hope they click.

The counseling sessions will add up. It’s probably $2,000 to $3,000 we weren’t planning on spending. But the counselor also plays a pivotal role in the process.

I won’t lie–I want a counselor that helps our birth mother be sure that this is what she wants. If she’s going to back out, I’d like to know before we get to the birth and before we’ve spent too much on the legal fees and process. I think a more experienced counselor will help us determine that.

But I also want to make sure the birth mother has the support she needs. I’ve never given up a child for adoption, but I’ve lost children and I know that it hurts. I need to know that she has someone to turn to and will be able to start the process of healing. The hardest part of adoption is knowing that no matter what, one of us walks away with empty arms.

If it’s going to be her, I need to know, for my own peace of mind that she has support in place. For now, I’ll hold my breath and hope that she likes the new counselor. That they click. If they do, it will be money well spent.

Leave a comment »

On Miscarriage: Conclusion

I shared the details of our miscarriages and our pregnancy so that you can understand what it was like to be in our shoes. I don’t pretend to know what it is like for others as they have miscarriages. I just know it hurts no matter how or why it occurs.
I also don’t know what brings other people to adopt. I just know that for us, given our history, when this chance to adopt was offered to us, both of us had the same answer. It was simply, “YES!”We were at a cocktail party and someone asked us how we determined we wanted to adopt. As we explained how we fell into this adoption, I realized it may seem like we jumped into it without thought. We had actually weighed and measured adoption ad nauseum prior to having the chance to adopt Baby H. We had looked into home studies and domestic and international adoption. We had spoken with several agencies. You see, if we miscarried again, this was our most likely path. We’d already had discussions about adopting transracially and talked through our thoughts and feelings on that.

Our only hesitations were the cost, potential wait to be selected and the failure rate. I imagine that a failed adoption feels a lot like a miscarriage — it rends your heart in two. This was our biggest fear with adoption. We weren’t sure at that time if we could handle another loss. The wounds were so fresh. We closed that door, and committed to medical treatment thinking we had a better chance of success.

That door remained closed until a text message sent it bursting back open. We both knew immediately this was our path to our third child. In fact, our only thought (other than “yes”), was “Why didn’t we think of this sooner?” It just felt right. This was our path, this was our son. This was our answer.

The second reason I shared details about our miscarriages is because I’ve been on the other side. The side on which you have a friend who is hurting from a miscarriage and you don’t know what to do. You can’t fix it or make it better, but you can make a difference. Because of this, I want to share the following suggestions:

If someone you know has a miscarriage:

1.) Acknowledge their loss. It matters. And it’s a loss for both parents, not just the one who bore the child.
2.) Simply be there. They may not be willing or able to talk, but your support does matter.
3.) Make a gesture that shows you realize this loss hurts. Send a card, send flowers. Drop food by. Anything that you would do for someone who lost a loved one, consider doing it for a miscarriage. One of my friends simply popped by with a casserole after our second miscarriage. I wasn’t answering my phone, I barely answered texts, I hadn’t showered in days. She rang the doorbell, burst in with the food, a hug and a card, and then quickly left. But it mattered. That was the only food we ate for a week. I couldn’t bring myself to cook. That gesture remains close to my heart to this day.
5.) Offer support, not platitudes. It’s hard not to say, “It was God’s plan,” because there are no words that can make it right, but the wound is too fresh. It takes time to gain perspective. Consider saying, “I’m here for you, I’m happy to do whatever you need.”
6.) Ask what they need, or simply hug them. Keep in mind, they may not be in a place to tell you what they need yet.
6.) Help them find a way to memorialize their child or children. In most miscarriages, you don’t have a body to bury. There is no funeral. This makes it difficult to get closure. For us, attending a ceremony after our second miscarriage made us feel like all of our babies were remembered, and we continue to remember them this way each year.
7.) Remember, it’s okay if you are not sure what to do or say. Your being there makes all the difference.

Leave a comment »