This mountain....

I haven't written since the birth of our sweet D in April! It's now October.  We are almost 6 months in to this parenting thing... and our baby is growing so fast!  I've been wanting to get back to writing for some time.  Part of the problem is things happen faster than I can process them!  I've been keeping a journal for this reason.  But, I saw this note and it resonated.

I thought I was going to wrap this blog up, put a neat little bow on it and put it away; as if it was something I could just move on from with the birth of our child.  Even going so far as to title my last post "our happily ever after." I'm sure people roll their eyes and wonder if I will ever stop talking about this.  Who knew? I wont! This just doesn't work like that.

The mark of infertility is one that will always be with us - even after we managed to get the monkey off of our back with a successful pregnancy.  It is the base line that we will always return to.... because it was our baseline for so long.  In my situation it is ingrained so deep I am still not sure when I will actually believe that D is here and he is ours. I STILL feel like I am living in a dream.

After D's birth, I took a 12 week leave from work.  I soaked up every second with my newborn. And I mean EVERY second. I took WAY too many pictures. I was as obsessive as one can be. I filled two 300+ photo albums before he was even 3 months old! (the gig will be up when I pull those out ....he is going to know just how nutty his momma is!)  I could spend hours just rocking him in his nursery. We would read books and take the dogs for long walks.  It was heaven.

I was obnoxiously happy to be taking care of our little miracle.  But, I also felt an immense sense of loss with each passing day.  D will most likely be my only baby so I had a white knuckle death grip on time.  As if I could somehow manipulate the clock into stopping somehow. The irony does not escape me.  Life is not meant to stay stagnant.  I know this. That was one of the things I disliked about life before D. Every day was always the same in a lot of ways.  Life after D is now in a constant state of change.  No two days are the same. And this is exactly what I had wished for, yet I just wanted it to slow down so I could savor it just a little longer.

By taking all those photos I was trying to hold on as well as prove to myself this was all REALLY happening.  I took "soaking up every second" so seriously that it created that sense of loss. I got so caught up in focusing on the fact that I would never have those sweet baby moments back again that I completely lost sight of all the awesome things we have to look forward to.

It was the same when I got pregnant - I couldn't relax.  We had two embryos successfully implant, then, we lost one. D remained and they assured me he was healthy and thriving.  When we found his heartbeat I was relieved but still... constantly worried about miscarriage. For 10 months, I was just waiting for the disappointment.  This, my friends is the result of telling yourself you don't deserve something. I did that for many years.  I conditioned my mind in order to cope with a reality I felt I had to accept. It's the sort of thought process that will probably take many years to reverse.

I refused to even think about daycare until the night before his first day. I knew that this was the best decision for our family and my child would be well taken care of. Those considerations had been made during pregnancy.  Still, that morning, I felt my heart crack.  Our little bubble was popped and I caught myself feeling a deep sadness and overwhelming anxiety.

I love mommy-hood. This felt like giving up my baby.  I had to remind myself that he was still MINE and I would pick him up at the end of the day. That may sound preposterous to you. Of course, intellectually I know he is my child. But emotionally it's been hard to convince myself that this new happiness that I have found is here to stay.  This baby is FINALLY in my arms.  Asking me to drop him off somewhere else to be cared for is like asking me to cut off my right foot.  However, it was irrational to believe that we could remain in our bubble indefinitely. Reality being what it is and all.

This has always manifested as anxiety. I tend to get caught up in a whirlwind of irrational thoughts and worry about $hit that doesn't matter.  I obsess.  Occasionally, I drive the people around me nuts.

Because the anxiety is well documented in my medical chart, we were repetitively educated about PPD before we left the hospital.  One nurse, who had had a 20 year battle with infertility herself, assured me that yes, it was possible to suffer with PPD even though you had wanted this so badly and for so long. We listened, we took note of their advice and inside I thought, "you don't understand people, I am CURED now!"  And once again, I am here to say... I was wrong.

S would tell you I am happier than I have ever been.  AND he is absolutely, 100% correct... I AM. To be clear, I do NOT suffer from PPD, but with each milestone I find my anxieties reaching up from where I buried them...trying to rob me of my joy.

So, I fight them off.  Every.damn.day.

I have learned that I have to be my own best friend.  I have to sit myself down for pep talks and reality checks. By recognizing and correcting those irrational thoughts I tame the beast.  I know my anxieties will never be "cured." This is just another part of parenthood.  There are so many more anxiety triggers with a child than without. This is really just the beginning. All parents cope with anxiety on some level. My lens is just colored by infertility.  All that we have been through has given me the tools I need to better manage that anxiety. I just need to stay mindful of it.

I honestly thought pregnancy was the end of our infertility story.  The truth is... it will always be there, forcing me to ask myself if I am truly worthy, and when will this all be taken away? That's OK, I welcome that voice.  It makes me a better mother than I would have been without the struggle.  The challenges of parenthood will always be a gift to me.   I will never forget the mountain that we moved and I will always appreciate this beautiful boy with the luminous smile who has made me a Mommy.

My past posts are the result of going to hell and back again and trying to rationalize all of it. Attempting to find logic where there is none. We gave up countless times only to try again.  Over, under, around and through, ... we heard "no" multiple times and in a variety of ways. Sometimes "no" just means "not now" for reasons that you (or I) will never understand.    

If you are out there wondering and waiting please keep this story close to your heart.  If you told me a few years ago that today I'd be holding this joyful baby boy, I'd have a hard time believing you.  You will find your way, those mountains WILL move.  You just have to keep the faith and remain determined.  The only way to lose the battle is to give up fighting.  Your happy ending may not be exactly what you had imagined .. it may actually be better!   

Don't forget to check out Stirrup Queens web page for more blogs and info!

In love and light.. 

~Shannon

The Roller Coaster ~

This is my 20th post! If you have been reading since #1 than you may be thinking... this girls gone crazy! If you are dealing with infertility than you just know.

It's the roller coaster.

Some days you are up, some days you are down.  Some days you are sure of yourself and your purpose and other days you question it all over again. 

The roller coaster is one of the most frustrating aspects of this for me.  I have ridden it with full abandon, hands in the air, open to whatever may happen. Other times I have plead for someone to just let me off the damn ride.

Even when I have reasoned that I may not be meant for motherhood....STILL I would jump for the opportunity. I just can't find true solid ground and I probably never will. 

My best friend and I were talking about this one day and she said that she can understand how I would be all over the place and feeling different things given different times and situations; and she was 100% right. 

Around the holidays I always think about having a child.  I imagine how much fun we would have celebrating the seasons and carrying on family traditions. When my birthday nears I can't help but think of each year gone as another notch. 

The passage of time; the dimming of any hope.

She suggested that I might feel even better about it as I get older and beyond my biological clock. She was totally right. There will come a point of absolute closure.

I am sure that my perspective will change. Will it be for better or worse is the question.  It will mark the true and final end of a journey. There will be no more questions.  No more wondering.  No more little voice.

What will I do then?

It's not the first time I have considered this.  The question has been in the back of my brain since the beginning and is one of the scariest things to consider.

Will I regret being so stubborn in my diligence to maintain my self worth?  Will I wish I had thrown my pride and dignity to the way side to accomplish the goal? What if the weight of this only truly hits me then.  What if these are all just  tremors and the earthquake is yet to come? What will I do when the coaster comes to a screeching halt and it's my turn to get off the ride for real and for good?

This fear of regret; it is my blind-spot.  It sneaks up on me when I least expect it. Sure, I am happy now... but what about later? 

There is no answer to that question of course. It is an every day lesson in humility.  I didn't ask for this, I  can't control it and I can't change it.

All we can do is trust our instincts and carry on. I have no idea what will happen. I am just going to keep the faith that it will all make sense when I get there.


 

 
Looking for a great resource of information?  Check out Stirrup Queens! for the most concise and helpful infertility website on the Internet!!

Not the Momma..... Part II: The Perfect Space

I feel like my last post could use some clarification.  What I intended to be about the value of those that do not parent; may have been communicated as a statement of feared inability.  That was not what I really intended. I think I know which sentence may have done it..... the one referring to "shortcomings;" and I guess I broke my #1 rule by connecting struggle with failure.  If I could; I'd like to take that back.  I recognize that given time and adjustments I could succeed in raising a child. However, I may have stumbled upon the realization that motherhood and parenting may not be my best case scenario.

This experience gave me a new perspective on what life would be like if things were different.  I saw the pieces of myself I would have to set aside and that didn't necessarily settle well.  I guess I am particularly attached to those pieces. We all have a "perfect space"  and most of us spend our lives seeking it. 

Life is completely different without kids and this was a peek into exactly  what changes when children come along. Being responsible for a little human requires letting go of parts of myself that I may not WANT to sacrifice. Even if I could.

A lot of people truly enjoy parenting. They crave it and they delight in it.  I may not be one of those people.  That's an important realization. One that flips the perspective 360 degrees.  Don't get me wrong; I totally enjoyed the time with my niece and I look forward to doing it again in the future.  I am not an ogre who can't stand children.  

Did I over analyze it? Maybe. In my defense some things need to be observed and evaluated. I would rather scrutinize something than neglect to see the lesson. This definitely taught me some things about myself that I really needed to see. 

 Motherhood could lead to happiness but it also poses a very real risk of leading to misery.

As I write that sentence; I cringe.  It sounds a little harsh right? What kind of woman  would begrudge motherhood?  Thinking that just proves I am still.. even if just a little...stuck in the cycle. Still believing that I need to fit the mold.

All the more reason to repeat my previous statement.

I am not a mother, I am not sorry; and you shouldn't be either.

Though, it is a valid point that should be considered. The decision to reproduce carries with it a great deal of risk. The baby could be born with birth defects. The mother could get sick carrying or delivering the child. You could give up your whole self; putting all you have into the goal of raising a productive and respectful citizen; just to see them grow up to become the opposite.  I wonder how the mothers of criminals must feel when they realize what their children are capable of and it's probably safe to bet that most never intended for their children to develop in such a way.

Maybe I wasn't given the choice because I could have made the wrong one. When I think back to when I was younger; (when instinct still over-ruled any of society's conditioning) I remember playing "house" along with the other kids but I liked "banker" and playing outside way more.  I don't remember daydreaming about becoming a mother or getting excited about how many children I would have one day like some women do.  At the same time, I did expect it as the natural progression of things. I took it for granted.  Like so many times in life ... you don't appreciate a choice until it is not yours to make. 

That being said; what if this isn't a case of fertility being taken; but that infertility is given? A free pass. A "get out of parenthood free" card. I know, it's rather easy for me to sit here and proclaim that I don't want children when I don't actually have the choice to make but I'd rather see it for the blessing it can be than a loss I need to defend.

 

Things are different now. Some might call it changing but it feels more like becoming.  Discovering a part of the person I have always been, but didn't know was missing. And it is starting to settle in. I am living this moment IN my best possible circumstance.  There are a lot of things that I could do; grow a mustache, own a parakeet or become a nun for example.  These things may not actually lead me to my "perfect space."  The will to do something does not equate to it's necessity. 

Parents are blessed with children; and the child-free are blessed in their own way. We should take pride in this just the same. This is our reality; and we shouldn't feel shameful or guilty for loving our lives just as much as a person who chooses to become a mother or father. 

Each path is different. Both contain their own bumps along the way and they also possess unique beauty. The way I see it; you can either wish away your journey or you can soak up the sun in your own experience; in this very moment, just the way you are.  

A Bullet and A Target

How can it be possible to feel both gratitude and loss all at once? Is it reasonable to admit that you feel the freedom left by an absence but you would trade in that freedom happily any day? Or is this a cop-out because it was never your choice to begin with?

Why don't we move forward another way like most of the others? Why don't we pursue adoption? Why won't I sacrifice more in order to make this a reality?

Maybe it's the little voice. I just have not let go of the glimmer of hope that one of these days this is going to happen for us. If it does, I swear I am going to buy the drug store out of pregnancy tests. I will lock myself in the bathroom and take one after the other just to watch that second line appear again and again!

Maybe it's the stubborn, rebellious inner teenager that says' "NO! You can't make me!"

If I thought I felt degraded at the doctor’s office, I had a reality check coming to me when we started to navigate the waters of the foster care system. The task at hand this time was to convince strangers that ours would be a wonderful environment for a child.

We asked our friends to take time out of their days to meet with case workers to attest to the stability of our character. There were background checks, finger prints, 12 weeks of classes; 4 hours, one night each week. We learned about all of the reasons people abuse their children. We were told it was important to have compassion for the birth families. Of course we were being put under a microscope. We ARE being entrusted with someone's children after all. Yes, that someone may have starved and beaten their child scarring them emotionally and physically for the rest of their lives yet, they still deserve respect and compassion.   

I remember sitting in those classes and feeling my blood boil. Week after week we heard examples and cases of abuse and were coached to believe it is best to subject a child to more of the same as the birth parent is allowed to re-enter their lives again and again to see if they can pass the test.

This is probably the biggest reason I am not cut out to be a foster-mother. In my mind; THEY ALREADY FAILED. I don't agree that a birth parent should be given an endless number of chances to get their shit together when a child's LIFE is at stake. I know it hurts a child to be separated from their birth family, even an abusive one; but I don't buy into the theory that the perpetrator should be treated as a victim. I will not sympathize with people who abuse their children. I don't believe their circumstance excuses their behavior.

That may make me sound cold but I am so tired of our modern day mind set. Accountability seems to have been lost and replaced with entitlement. Maybe if more parents feared REAL loss fewer kids would be abused. If we raise the stakes; can we raise the standard?

We sat down with a case worker to complete our "home study." We hashed out our entire life stories; the good, the bad and the ugly. To me this felt like begging someone to grant me something that so many took for granted and that so many abused. Once again, I found myself burning up with resentment. I resented every single second of it.

As a disclaimer, I must add that I do understand why the system is in place. I just don't feel it's effective. While my home was inspected for general safety & condition no one had any concern with our outbuildings. Wasn't there a case a few years back where foster parents were keeping kids in cages in the garage? And this isn't even on their two page itemized check list? Thanks to this process we now have a smoke detector installed in our home every 300 sq. ft. or so. I am not exaggerating. When I burn toast, the whole mountain knows it.

Our wood stove and small pond were both items we were lectured about. While our garage could have looked like a scene from a horror film and they'd never know. They didn't even care.

The system... I just couldn't work with it. I wish I had it in me to grovel happily for the chance to give a child in need a safe and loving home. I wanted to jump through their hoops and pass the exam. I know all the reasons why I SHOULD feel compassion toward drug addicts who abuse their children repeatedly. But, I don't feel it and I never will.

We completed the process of being certified to foster children. After getting through all of that we were still excited at the possibility of providing a safe home to a child in need. It just turned into another dead end. I see these experiences we had as a sign. We were putting our whole selves into the process and the only thing we were getting back was grief. Every interaction turned into its own little disaster.

Was this the weak way out? Did I "give up?" Some may say that. It felt more like giving in. I cried "uncle" because I could see this system was too big, too much for lil' ol' me to create any positive change. I see each battle lost as a sign that I am not in fact on the right path.

The same part of me that still has hope for "someday" is even a little thankful that "someday" hasn't arrived just yet. Kind of like how I don't want Christmas to come because then it will be over. It's a missing piece; a mystery left yet to be discovered. Even after 12 years of failure I can't stop thinking that my day might still be coming.

Listen to me... I just can't help it. I will never stop putting myself between the bullet and the target.

Hope In The Face of Absence

I’ve learned a few things about myself along the way.  I need a creative outlet or I get grumpy.   Yoga keeps me centered.  Running & kickboxing help me blow off steam. Piano quiets my brain.  

I am unsure if these are discoveries of self or simply coping mechanisms that I have used to blanket the fire. 

I have been given opportunities to explore & thrive.  Have I seized them or survived them?

Inside is this voice that whispers… it’s never enough.  Moment to moment; I expect too much.  I envy those that feel a calm in life’s pace. They live out their days cursing their own fate and yet their dreams all come true.  While I am here, still waiting for you.

This isn’t the kind of waiting most are used to.  Waiting in the line at the grocery store, waiting for your friend who is late for your lunch date, the doctor’s office; this waiting has its own misery but you know that eventually you will get your turn.  You may feel bored or annoyed but your faith is not tested.  This is much different.  This kind of waiting feels like you are looking down a deep dark tunnel in the path that is your life. There is no light beaming in from the other side.  You have no idea what to expect. You don’t even know the chances of coming out alive on the other side. You have two choices.  You can give up your faith, turn around and keep living just as you are without risking the darkness or you conger up all the hope that you can muster and you take your first step into that deep dark tunnel.  There is no reason to hope. No one has encouraged you that passing thru this tunnel will bring your dreams to reality.  That deep dark tunnel in my life represents my feelings regarding my fertility.

Hope. It’s easy at first. But it is the hardest thing to hold on to.  To keep hope alive you must be willing to risk constant disappointment.  When you can’t stand any more disappointment you move toward acceptance.  Just when you thought you found your own way around that tunnel it sneaks up on you… well, what can you hope for now?   Hope drives us.  It keeps us believing that there is something more for us out there. To me this feels like accepting that this is all my life will ever be.  I will never get the chance to see my own creation. I will never be able to see my husband hold our child. That hurts.

To fully accept your fate takes a courage so deep and faith so strong that you are able to truly let go. No more hoping and wishing. No more “maybe’s” and “some days. “ No more “hey, you never know.”  There are these stories that your friends tell you constantly. They think they are helping but really it’s just torture.  They say “oh, I knew someone who got pregnant right when they adopted!” or my personal favorite “I have friends that didn’t get pregnant for 10 years.”  That one is my favorite because I figured that would be us.  And here we are; we will be married for 12 years this September.

There is a new theory exposed every day it seems.  Could it be RX drugs, toxins or GMO’s?  Any one of these things could have taken my fertility away from me without even knowing it.  It leaves me wondering was it the ramen noodles in college? My shampoo? The laundry soap?  It could be ANYTHING! And yet, it could be NOTHING. I am in a constant struggle between hope and letting go. I wonder if one day I will be truly numb to it all.  Maybe that is what letting go is really all about. I’ve told myself that I am done and over it and yet I find myself squirming; back in its grips, anxious with my own reality; wanting my life to move on naturally. 

Maybe hope changes.  Instead of hoping for a certain future; I am hoping I am on the right path. I keep faith in my intuition. I am right exactly where I need to be.