It's funny sometimes how the pain and loss associated with my infertility sneaks up on me.
Take last night for example: Jake and I were out celebrating his passing of his A+ test by eating dinner out and then catching a movie. In the advertisements (aka commercials....another rant for another day there) before the previews began, was one for Wally-World that showed a family on a road trip vacation--the kind of vacation Jake and I love to take. The visuals of the happy family with the carload of kids, stopping at roadside attractions to take silly photos and ending with a walk down the beach, brought a well of tears to my eyes. That's what I crave, that's what Jake and I both want--a family of our own. I know family road trips aren't as idyllic as the commercial portrayed, I know the kids will squabble, we'll all get tired of being cooped up in a car for hours on end, and someone (probably me) will threaten to "Pull this car over if you don't leave your sister alone!" I know all of this, yet, I still want it. I want it with every fiber of my being. A piece of my heart is missing and I'm afraid it will never be filled.
I know I've said here time and again that I'm one of the world's least patient people. Having to constantly wait in our efforts to build a family is pushing me to the breaking point, and is teaching me no life lessons. This March, it will be a total of 10 years since we started trying for a family. 10 long years of heartache, frustration and tears. And even though I'm only 30, I'm afraid I won't be a mom before 40. I've had to sit on the sidelines and watch as friends and family members alike, even the infertile ones, have had children through old-fashioned baby-making, ART, or adoption. As always, I get left behind. And quite frankly, I'm tired of it.
The feeling of sorrow only intensified during the ride home. When Jake started the car, "Tiny Dancer" was playing on the radio. Now, this is something I've never shared with anyone-because I always felt silly or stupid about it-but to me, that song is about my daughter. A long time ago, back before we figured out we were infertile, there was a time (a few months into our TTC efforts) when Jake and I were absolutely convinced that I was pregnant. I hadn't peed on stick yet, as I didn't trust them 100%, and wanted to wait for a beta. I had all the symptoms: two weeks late, super sore and swollen boobs, food aversion, nausea, heightened sense of smell....you name the symptom, I had it. Of course, I now know it was psychosomatic symptoms. Anyway, while I did think I was pregnant, "Tiny Dancer" came on the radio while I was in the car one day, and it instantly made me think of the life that I thought was growing inside of me, and how if it were a girl, I'd love for her to be into taking ballet and other dance lessons. A couple of days later, I started to bleed. Thinking it was a miscarriage, I rushed to the doctor's office, had a beta drawn, and discovered it was all a mistake--there wasn't, nor would there ever be, a baby. Ever since that horrible day, every time I hear that song, I am reminded of that 21 year old who was filled with so much hope, happiness and love at the thought of her baby, and of becoming a mother--and I weep.
I despair of our ever being able to afford a private adoption. Even with the tax credit, the costs are so extremely high. Without a home to even have equity to borrow against, I have no idea how to come up with $30-50 thousand. Not to mention trying to find a secular agency. Almost all agencies out there that I would be interested in have some sort of Christian basis to them. The one secular agency I found, that also guarantees your funds in the event of a failed placement, is on the higher end of the fee scale. Even with our willingness to adopt outside our race, we would still have to pony up about $35K. Catholic Charities allows you to pay based on a sliding scale of fees, however you have to be a member of a church within their Diocese's boundaries. Um, seeing as how I'm an Atheist, and my husband is Agnostic, that's not going to happen. Sure, I could lie and join a church and pretend to worship their God to get a baby, but that's not morally or ethically right. I could never lie to a birth mother, the person giving me the greatest gift I'll ever know, that way. We've thought vaguely about Guatemala, but there's so much going on there with the newly-elected officials, getting into the Hague, and the problems between PGN and the court system that I am leery of exploring that avenue at the moment. And that's not to say anything negative towards my friends in the blogosphere who have gone the Guat route. I think a healthy dose of caution is always a good thing, you know?
We've also thought about the foster/adoption route, but I'm really scared of that as well. I've seen what problems my parents have had to go through with my (adopted foster) sisters, and it's something I'm not sure I'd want to endure. I'm sure there are some out there who will call me selfish for not taking this route, and to them I say "fuck you". Hats off to you who have gone this route to build your family, and I may even do it myself someday, but I know 100% in my heart that I want my first child to be mine from as close to birth as possible. I want to pick their name, bring them home from the hospital, bond with them during the most important formative time in infancy, and be there for every "first". Where is it written that I must be the savior of lost children?
I guess I'm rambling on here, and I don't even know what point I'm trying to make, other than using this entry as a therapeutic outlet for my feelings, but as always, I appreciate all you out there for "listening". I suppose I'll just have to keep "hanging on".
