Here we are again: Mother’s Day. This is the fourth Mother’s Day to pass while on our family-building journey, and I’m still not a mother. At least not in the typical sense of the word.
The first one was about 9 months into our attempts to get pregnant. We were starting to worry that something might be wrong, but the doctors said to wait until a full year had passed before really worrying.
The second one was in the middle of our work with a reproductive endocrinologist. We still hadn’t found anything wrong with either of us, but the first IUI had failed and we were about to try two more.
The third one was the hardest. We’d had two miscarriages and a genetic diagnosis that left us hurt and confused. Interestingly, last Mother’s Day was the day I found enough courage to share a tiny bit of our struggles on this blog. I’m so glad that I did, because as I wrote more, I met many supportive women going through similar struggles, and I think it has provided some insight to family and friends.
Leading up to today, I noticed that I wasn’t feeling quite as sad this year. Knowing that we’re starting our adoption journey is very helpful in many ways. I do feel, with a fair amount of certainty, that there is a child in our future. But yet today I remember again that I’m still not a mother. I won’t be next year either. There’s a possibility that I could be one two years from now – but maybe not (we think summer 2011 is our realistic timeframe for the adoption). While lately I have been seeing the faintest light at the end of a tremendously long tunnel, today that light seems to be a bit out of sight.
One of the things that helped us choose adoption after years of trying to conceive is the realization that we want to be parents more than we want to be pregnant. I want to be a mother. Craig wants to be a father. We want the experiences of parenthood – the good and the bad. But of course adoption does not happen overnight (and it shouldn’t), so we have a long wait on our hands.
I need to find a way to see myself as a mother. I’ve lost three babies and my baby in Ethiopia has not even been born yet, so I’m in a state of limbo. My emotions today are reminding me that the pain of infertility and pregnancy loss does not just disappear. I keep hearing how most of the pain goes away once your child is in your arms, and I so hope that is the case. But I know this life-defining experience will be with me forever, in some way, shape, or form.
I don’t live near my mom. She is visiting my brothers this weekend, which is good, but I miss her. Today is one of many days when I wish we all lived closer to each other. We will spend some time today with Craig’s mom. And then we will come home and try to repair the cement wall since the rain has finally stopped (knock on wood).
[The basement is drying out, by the way. The clean-up crew thinks we can save the carpet and the drywall, but they removed the padding and the baseboards. They left a heavy-duty dehumidifier and four fans running and they’ll return on Monday or Tuesday. We already had the electrician replace the circuit breaker (it was a GFI and it should not have been). The stuff from the basement is strewn about the house. But we remain so grateful that we caught the water when we did. It could have been so much worse.]