It’s OK…Really. I’m OK

Posted on November 27, 2011 by imfluffyowl

So someone in my social circle told me that they were pregnant. I don’t want to give much information on it because they are waiting to hit the 12 week mark before they break this news to the world for various reasons. I understand this completely, in fact, I’m very happy that said person is waiting to break the news.

But, this post isn’t so much about her and her announcement, as its about me and my reaction to it. Cause lets face it, out of the last 5+ pregnancy announcements in my little circle, I have acted like a big baby. Crying, moping, eating, drinking and generally feeling sorry for myself. Laying in bed, depressed and feeling like the world is out to get me. I actually stopped talking to one couple because I couldn’t deal with the fact that they were pregnant and we weren’t. Mind you, they can’t afford to live together on their own right now as it is, they are in no way prepared for a baby and they told everyone that they weren’t even trying. And she dropped out of school and decided to live off of her boyfriends eventual money. So when this recent pregnancy announcement came to me today, I was actually surprised to find out that not only did it not bug me, but I was smiling and genuinely happy. Genuine hugs, no jealousy, no hard feelings, and I didn’t even get that feeling where you think your heart just dropped to your toes. None of that. It was oddly peaceful for me. I didn’t hurt.

I know that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but to an infertile, it is. It really is. It’s been so long since I’ve heard a pregnancy announcement or a birth announcement and not been filled with all consuming jealousy and heartbreak. Because to the infertile, every announcement stings. Everything stings about it. When people who get married after you or aren’t even married at all are announcing and you are going on 2 years, 7 months, 3 weeks and 2 days since you started trying with NOTHING to show for it, the only feelings you have are negative ones. It becomes so hard and it consumes everything in yourself to get the courage to even congratulate someone. It becomes difficult to leave comments. And sometimes it becomes almost impossible to even read the words and look at the pictures, let alone say anything. Do you know how hard it is for the infertile to work up the courage and willpower to say something as small as a simple “congratulations”? Do you know how much I want to be pregnant but also fear being pregnant before some of my other infertile friends because I will have to one day tell those friends and see that pain on their face. And I’ll have to have that conversation in person because that person deserves to be told the “right” way. Oh and by the way, what the fuck is the “right” way to tell this news? I’m infertile and have been for almost 3 years, yet I still couldn’t tell you how to break that news to me with minimal damage to my mind and heart…

And I will have to tell that person one day. I will have to make that announcement. With my local infertile friend, we made a pact that no matter how hard it will be to tell the other, we would break the news in person to each other before it went public. It was a hard pact to make. We know what effect that news will have on the other and we know we can’t take that pain away because for once, we are the ones causing it to each other. but we are resolved to do it. And the thing is, we will probably break that news to each other before we even tell our family. I dread telling her like she dreads telling me. Cause our happiness will cause pain for the other. We have no way to stop it, its gonna happen one way or the other. But this is the world of the infertile. You hate the world til you get pregnant/adopt/start foster care, then when you do finally get it, you realize that there are others like you that help support you that now hurt because you get to now. And then that puts you in the precarious situation of “how do I do this now?”. You hated the people that got creative and posted fun pictures of their pregnancy test, the prego bottle, or other stupid ways to show their announcement. You get pissed and hurt when you see ultrasound shots and belly shots. You hate the pregnant women when they complain about their pregnancy. But now that you are one, what do you do? Do you join the world of the fertiles (which even if you are pregnant, you are not a fertile myrtle) and do the pictures and the statuses and the complaining, knowing that you are potentially hurting the group who previously gave you all the support they could give and then some? Or not do that and still wonder what’s OK and acceptable as an infertile who finds themselves pregnant? See, its not easy as an infertile.

So this news today has me wondering whats so different about this announcement? Then that leads me to wonder if this person found the magical way? The person took some time out of their day, sat me down and casually said, “I’m pregnant, and I know this may hurt you, but I wanted to tell you in person and give you time before we tell the rest of the world. I wanted you to know and hear it from me because you are important to me. I didn’t know what to do but this felt right.” It was simple, she didn’t hide it. She didn’t ignore me because she didn’t know how to approach me. She put it to me in a direct way, told me she understood if I was upset and didn’t take it personal, she didn’t want me to hurt, she didn’t leave me hanging. She didn’t let me find out through other people. I didn’t find out through a status or picture update on facebook. And honestly? That little bit of consideration on her part made this so much better than any other announcement.

For once, I can be happy about an announcement and actually show my happiness and be genuine about it (jealousy, pain and envy free). Maybe its progress on my part, maybe its something she did. Hell, maybe its both. But at least today is a good day, pregnancy announcement or not.

So Let’s Talk About Birthdays

Posted on November 25, 2011 by imfluffyowl

So, there’s this birthday coming up, and while you may think I’m talking about mine (which is next Sunday), though I’m not referring to mine. The birthday to which I’m referring to is my husband’s. And it’s not just any birthday, it’s a big one. Hubby is turning 30 on at the end of March.

My husband has always been one to play down his birthday. A quiet night in with family, some cards, one of his favorite meals and his mother’s cheesecake. That’s how we spend every birthday. He generally gets upset with me if I want to spoil him and buy him gifts. Yet when my birthday rolls along, he spoils me rotten. And sometimes it angers me for multiple reasons:
1. I’m no good at accepting gifts.
2. I love to give more than I like to receive.
and
3. He’s my hubby, its my right to spoil the man!

So for the past couple of weeks, I’ve started brainstorming about having a birthday party for him for his big 30th. Nothing big. A house party, a bunch of us bake for him. Have all of hubby’s friends over and let them dork out while the girls chill out and catch up. Nothing huge. I was even considering doing a situations where instead of gifts, everyone bring something ‘pot-luck style’ to contribute to the party. No gifts, no chorus of Happy Birthday, no party hats or super tacky birthday decorations. But as soon as I mentioned anything even remotely related to his upcoming birthday, he loses it, gets angry, tells me to drop it and won’t tell me why. I’ve tried this discussion from every angle, but still, he gets mad at me and tells me to drop it. He won’t even let me mention the ‘b’ word. I even went so far as to pick a day near the middle to end of March (specifically not on his birthday) and have a “Chris Is Awesome” get together and have all the guys over for gaming, no cake, no singing Happy Birthday, no gifts, just me making food and his friends going on about how awesome he is. And he still turned this down.

It’s bugging me a bit. I’m all for the “I don’t want anything” but yet he spoils me and takes me out to dinner and buys me gifts for my birthday, but he won’t let me return the favor. What should I do? How do I even go about getting him to have a serious conversation with me about this without him trying to blow it off? I’m just lost in all of this.

I talked with Crystal, a mutual friend, about the issue and she is determined to help me do something but he even got mad at her and then mad at me because I talked to friends about it. She suggested that I talk to his mom. And I might. I’m close with Debbie, and she may have some insight where I don’t. And worst case scenario, he can’t snap at her over it like he does at me. His father won’t have anything to do with that attitude. Yes, I’m being sneaky. But I’m determined to get him to talk about it. He makes me talk about things I don’t want to talk about, so its gotta be a two way street. If he ends up having a very valid reason why he doesn’t want this, I will take it and abide by his wishes. But the point is, the man has to talk to me about it at some point and until he does, I’m gonna keep pushing.

Have any of you guys have to deal with this? Do you have any words of wisdom?

There’s A Comfort In Sharing The Pain

Posted on November 13, 2011 by imfluffyowl

Tonight, I went out with my husband to one of my friends house to celebrate the 30th birthday of her brother in law. It was a fun night out with people from my past, having fun and relaxing. I like when nights like this happen because they don’t happen as much as they normally do anymore. We have all grown up, gotten married, started families and we just don’t have time for each other anymore.

I’ve known the two sisters most of my life. I grew up to be best friends with the older sister and we went through school together as best friends and as I got closer to my wedding, all of us had a very bad falling out. It took the better part of 2 years before we started talking again. When we did start to mend that bridge, things had changed. Drastically. I had changed. I wanted to try to have a friendship with them, but we were simply not what we used to be, and really, neither of us wanted to go back to what we were. What we were was volatile, we relied on each other too much and we clearly needed to find another way to have a friendship, a mature friendship. And over the years, we have slowly found our place in each others lives again. We have found that mature friendship. We have found a place in each others life without relying on the other completely to sustain the friendship. We couldn’t make that transition into the mature friendship on our own, so we fought, fell out of contact and then reconnected to find that mature friendship.

But another connecting factor in our “new yet old” friendship is that we share something that neither one of us wanted or expected to share. We are both suffering with infertility. Her and her husbands infertility is categorized as “unexplained”, where mine and husbands infertility has been categorized as “male factor”. But we came out to each other about this a while back and this has helped us mend the broken friendship. We have a common factor. We can sympathize with each other in a way that no one else locally can sympathize with us. We simply understand how the mind works when it comes to trying to get pregnant, pregnancy announcements, and everything that comes with the heartbreaking news of another Big Fat Negative. We can talk about it with no reserve or worrying about hurt feelings. We don’t have to explain it, we just have to say the words and know that someone else simply “gets it”. And where we have known each other for so long, we carry over many of the other comforts and telltales of an old friendship. We understand simple gestures, facial expressions and can still share things with a meeting of the eyes. So to put both the infertility and the understanding of an old friendship together and its like sharing a pain with someone who has your history. And honestly, it’s a breath of fresh air. And I’m grateful for it.

Infertility isn’t a pain that you wish on anyone. But there is a comfort in sharing this pain. Having someone that you know personally who is physically here with you who goes through this, it makes that burden a bit easier to carry. You know that someone truly just “gets it” instead of trying to understand it. I know that I can look at this person and just say “How is everything going?” and they know what I’m asking without really asking. Cause I don’t have to say it. And when she says, “It’s ok, yesterday was a crying day”, I know what she means. And a hug between two infertiles? Two friends who are both infertiles and know the struggles of the other? There is so much of everything in that hug. There is love, understanding, compassion, kindness and a feeling that can only be explained as “if my hug could fix everything, this is what that hug would feel like”. Because other than that hug and quick questions on a cold step tonight, we didn’t get to talk much about it anymore. It was a party, we were there to celebrate. But still, that 5 minutes of sharing on the step was all we needed. There are no detailed explanations necessary. It was a quick chat of where they are now and where we are now and no need to go into details. Cause we know all the details. There’s an ease to that lack of explanation. And for a couple of minutes, you don’t feel so alone in the struggle and everything was easier for a bit. And dare I say it, you feel normal for once. You start to wonder if this is what mothers feel like when they talk to each other about their kids and then you feel something that’s buried deep down inside that you sometimes forget that its there. You feel hope.

I look forward to the day when we can both be pregnant. And as much as I hate not being able to be pregnant and I hurt to see others pregnant instead of me, I wish I could give her a pregnancy as much as I wish for my own. I wish I could give her the gift of a pregnancy because when she finally gets that Big Fat Positive, I will cry tears of joy for her and her husband. I will celebrate it as if it was our own. It will be the one pregnancy I can take with ease, happiness and grace. Maybe, one day, friend and I will be able to watch our children play together while we talk about them with the same ease that we have somehow learned to talk about our infertility. I hold out hope for it, because quite frankly, its one of the few thoughts that keep me on this fight (for both of us).

How Kim Fought With A Sidewalk And Lost

Posted on November 11, 2011 by imfluffyowl

Artist Depiction of Main Offender #1

So today just ended up being terrible.

It was simply one thing after another today. They were paving the street directly in front of the entrance to our back parking lot and I had to wait to get out. I fought with Chris. Chris fought with employment insurance cause they are screwing him around. A couple that we are friends with took something that I said in a group setting as offensive and instead of telling me that I said something and me apologizing for said comments, they left pissed off. And I still don’t know what I said! Then to top the day off, while trying to pick up my lunch on the way to work, a sidewalk kicked the shit out of me and then spit me back out.

Yep, I got my ass kicked by a sidewalk. So, on my way over to work, I stopped to get sushi for lunch. I’ve been craving sushi for, well, forever. I crave sushi on a daily basis. If I could live off of sushi, I’d die a happy girl. But I had to go to the bank machine next to the sushi place first. So I parked my car on the main street in town, and went into the bank to get my money. After I finished at the bank, I walked down to the sushi place. But before I got there, I lost my balance and fell. I can’t blame this fall on anyone or anything. There was no ice; it was gorgeous out. I wasn’t wearing heels; I was wearing my favorite old person support flats shoes. No one pushed me, I didn’t drag or catch my foot on anything. I wasn’t even on my phone. But I fell. Good and hard.

My best guess, when I looked at my surroundings after the fall is that the way the sidewalk is set is that there are cement sidewalks and between each slab of cement is a row of bricks laid at the same level as the cement, you know, to make it look pretty. One area of the cement was raised more than the bricks. My guess is that my foot landed on it in a way that it was not centered and my ankle said, “nope, I can see where this is going, I’m outta here” and it gave out. My ankle twisted, I tried to grab the power pole in front of me to brace myself from the fall, missed (cause thats just my luck), slammed down on both my knees and the side of one of my legs. Then I must have tried to brace myself with my hands because they are scraped up like woah and I landed on the ground laying down yet I didn’t hit my head.


If you see this offender, please contact authorties.

I scared the poor woman walking up behind me. She checked on me and tried to help me up but when I fell, I managed to knock the wind clear out of me and I was moaning in pain. Another man offered to call an ambulance, but since I hurt myself with my clumsy nature on such a regular basis I knew that what injuries I had were not severe. Other than some sore spots where I landed, my pride was hurt more than my body. And well, the paramedics aren’t trained to help fix my pride. Two men helped me up and made sure I was ok before they went on their way. I was very grateful for the kindness of strangers. Once I was up and moving, I had a chuckle and went to get my sushi. The girl at the sushi place noticed how frazzled I was and that I was walking with a limp and when I told her what happened and placed my order to go, she told me to take a seat and got me a cold glass of water til my order was ready. Then I went off to work and went through my routine.

For those not in the know, I work for my parents. My father has his own business and I am his secretary and office manager. So when I got to work a bit late with a limp, dad just simply stated, “what did you do this time?” See, I’m a klutz. I was born clumsy. I don’t like bikes, rollerblading, skating or anything that causes potential harm to me. Because if there is a potential for harm, I will find it and then I’m elbows deep in it. I know my limits. I hate ice and snow because its an accident waiting to happen. I don’t like walking down or up any steep hill or incline because I’m the one to lose my footing and slide down. I’ve tripped over nothing. I’ve walked into parking meters. I walked into walls. I need a light on when I go to the bathroom at night because once while rushing to the bathroom, the cat walked over my foot as I was lifting it and I cleared her, airborn halfway across the room. I clip my arms or hips off of dressers that I walk by every day. I manage to hurt my hands just from swinging them as I walk. I regularly bang my head off of my car door frame when I get out of my car, regardless of how careful I am. I currently have bruises on my body that I don’t remember where I got them. And it only gets worse when I’m drunk.

You may laugh at it or pity me for my poor luck and coordination. But its cool. I’ve embraced my clumsiness. There was a running betting pool amongst my friends whether I would trip up the aisle at my wedding (which is funny, because at the time more than half of the wedding party worked at a horse track as bookies). I might have spearheaded that bet. But long ago, I used to be ashamed of my clumsiness, but over time I began to embrace it as it being part of me.A part of me that I could give a positive spin to. I decided to find the humor in a bad situation. It’s who I am, and I laugh. It helps me deal with it and I’m one to speak up if I feel that people take it too far.

But I have to say that at the end of the day, it makes for pretty good stories. How often can you say that you fought with a sidewalk and it kicked your ass?

Tonight Is A Win For Everyone

Posted on November 9, 2011 by imfluffyowl

I know its common practice for some Americans to mock their friendly neighbors “Up North” in Canada. We’re too nice, we finish every statement with Eh. You make fun of our mounties, our currency, our free health care, and our accent. How I Met Your Mother even mocks their favorite Canuck, Robin (which I completely love, cause I love HIMYM almost as much as I love my husband). So it should come as no surprise that us Canucks like to throw around jokes at our southern friends expense. It’s all in good fun though because we have friends who are in the other country and we’re not really that mean (all the time…). A good ribbing never did anyone any harm.

Saying all this, I wanted to come on here tonight and thank the citizens of Mississippi who voted No on Initiative 26: The Personhood Amendment.

I grew up in a home with a father that taught me about how there are extremes in every situation. I was also taught that in politics, this gets to even more extreme levels. My father wasn’t a well educated man. He has no university degrees. He graduated from high school and went on to go to a trades school to become a Master Electrician who is now in the top of his field and well respected in his job. My father always wanted me well versed on many things, the most important being:

1. How to grocery shop (Don’t be like mom, have a plan going in. Know where the sales are!)
2. Get good marks. And even if you don’t have the top marks, as long as you worked hard for your marks, be proud of them.
3. Always have an idea of whats going on in your local politics, stay informed and vote NO MATTER WHAT. You cannot have an opinion if you are not informed and if you don’t vote, you have no right to complain.
4. Always have an idea of whats going on in your international politics. You should always know what the rest of the world is doing, particularly the United States because they’re our neighbor, we share a border and their politics can affect the running of our country more than any other.

And finally…

5. If you believe in something completely, fight like hell for it. Because if you don’t fight for it, you don’t deserve it.

Maybe that’s where my fight comes from? I know I’ve been given the dreaded line, “you are your father, with tits!” from my mother, my late grandmother, dad’s parents, my friends, my cousins, a couple of my aunts and uncles (my very loud and outspoken Aunt Betty in particular), all of my former wedding party at some point through the wedding planning, and my husband even uttered those words to me once (though he had trouble looking at my cleavage for a bit after that statement) at some point or another when they were completely and utterly frustrated with my stubborn nature. I’ve not only been told I’m my father with tits, but I was actually told by two close friends last week that I have a “strong personality”. Who knew? I sure didn’t and I think my face showed it when they told me. Believe it or not, I’ve always considered myself shy and reserved. So being told I’m not is a shock to me. And while a lot of it comes from my DNA and the way my parents raised me, the rest comes from and is nursed by my “I don’t know what embarrassment feels like” husband.

So, that being said, I have clearly decided what is most important to me (my fight to be a mom, even if we struggle with infertility) and push through it as best I can. I have taken a stand, I did the day I started this blog and outed myself on facebook and I haven’t looked back. My husband supports my blog and my need to be ‘out’ and fighting, he understands my need to not feel so helpless. I have no regrets in this fight. I have no shame in this fight. And regardless of if things in the infertility field affect me personally or not, I WILL fight for them. If I mysteriously got pregnant tomorrow, my fight would continue for those that haven’t yet. I would never stop fighting and speaking out for the infertile because this is a part of me. It will always be a part of me. Always. I read tonight somewhere (~~I’m sorry that I don’t remember who, I did a TON of reading on this since it started~~ Found it! Knew it was familiar, thank you Mel at Stirrup Queens) that you cannot pick and choose what you fight for in the infertility community. Its not a pu-pu platter to choose what things you want to stand up for. It’s an all in, balls deep fight that you either fight for all the reproductive rights or you stay quiet in the background letting infertility infect your life. Its not a fight you can half-ass. You have to figure out your stand on it and then charge forward with everything you have.

So I fight. I fight for medical coverage for infertility treatments regardless of if or when I will need them. I am a proud Canadian who will spread the word of Resolve.org even though they are an American organization. If I need Resolve to fight for me, they would fight for me, so I will fight for them. And tonight and the weeks leading up to today’s vote, I fought for the people of Mississippi so that women could continue to choose what they want to do with their reproductive organs instead of letting the government have the final say on their lady bits. Mississippi is on the Bible Belt of US and they have some of the strictest rules for the one functioning abortion clinic in the state. So the fact that a bill was not passed tonight that stated that life started at conception is a big event for not just the state, but the entire infertile community in general.

If this bill was passed, it would have made all forms of abortions illegal (incest and rape victims would not be allowed to terminate a pregnancy stemming from rape or incest), would make almost all forms of birth control illegal (the IUD’s, morning after pill, any emergency contraception and your nuva ring), and could leave your reproductive health in the hands of the government. Reproductive Endocrinologists would be forced to shut down shops in fear of legal problems because of their practices with alternative forms of reproduction (the destroying of unused embryos in IVF would be considered murder) and it could go so far that doctors would have to weigh the pros vs. the cons of a woman going through an ectopic pregnancy (the baby starts growing in the tubes and could be very dangerous for both child and mother if the pregnancy is not terminated). Not to mention it could lead to charges laid on a mother over “suspicious miscarriages” (cause the baby did die after conception). If this vote passed, what would happen if you got pregnant knowing that you had miscarried in the past? Should you not be allowed to procreate or even try to procreate if you miscarried in the past? It’s a very slippery slope and the amendment was worded in such a way that these things could have been a possibility. I know it sounds like a lot of hog wash and I’m simply blowing it out of proportion, but I’m not. Letters from clergy, doctors, and politicians have circulated stating the same concerns over this piece of legislation.

So why is one 28 year old woman from the East Coast of Canada worried about such legislation in the bible belt of America? Well, its a slippery slope and what affects one, will one day affect us all. If this bill had passed, then other states would soon follow suit and try to push similar bills in other states. And watching this all come together brought my fathers words back to me: You should always know what the rest of the world is doing, particularly the United States because they’re our neighbor and their politics can affect the running of our country more than any other. And its true. This could affect the reproductively challenged all over the United States. And with a Prime Minister who secretly wants to be an American so bad that he will stick his lips to the ass of the US President, you may one day find that Canadian politics are starting to follow that of our southern neighbors. What would happen if fertility treatments were no longer available in the United States? Many of the 1 in 8 of child bearing age, would not be able to have children, may not meet the requirements for adoption and foster care and be forced to be childless because IVF’s and surrogacy are no longer allowed. Or for those that could afford it, they would travel to Canada for treatments in hopes of being parents. What would that do for those in Canada trying to go through treatments? Would the prices go up? Would the wait times for an appointment with a fertility specialist go even longer? Would fertility treatments only become something that the rich and wealthy can do? Those questions are unanswered because we simply don’t know what will happen.

But regardless, I will help them fight. We are all women who desperately want to be mom’s, we are husbands who want to be dads, we are from diverse backgrounds, religions, cultures and sexual orientations so our nationality should make no difference on whether we fight or not. Our nationality does not stop us from offering kind words and support to others that suffer. I don’t question where one of my readers or one of my fellow bloggers are from. If they need someone to vent to, I will support them during their hard times and celebrate their good news. I’ve shed tears for people I have never met, that I will probably never meet in person. My day is instantly better when I read their good news. With this legislation, I fought for my friends who would be affected by this. I fought for the strong, wonderful women (and men too, the few of you that have come out about it!!) in this infertility community and I stood up next to them fighting the good fight. I spread the word, asked others to spread the word and informed everyone who asked about it. I used the social media tools I regularly use to get the word out. Cause the truth is, if I needed their support, if other Canadian infertiles needed the support of Resolve or any other infertile women and men out there, they would help us fight the good fight. And that’s all were asking for at the end of the day, aren’t we? Support during the fight…

Why I’m Grateful For Adoption

Posted on November 4, 2011 by imfluffyowl

November is National Adoption Awareness Month.

While I am not at the stage in our infertility struggle to be ready to consider adoption, I want to tell you why I’m grateful for it nonetheless. Adoption has given me a gift that I would otherwise not have. I am loved and know what love feels like because of adoption. I’ve had my life changed completely because of adoption. Why, you may ask? Because my husband was adopted. And with his blessing, I am sharing his adoption story, along with his search for his birth family, on my blog for others to see.


Chris and his parents.

In the early months of our relationship I had the chance to really get to know Chris’s mom, Debbie. I pretty much loved her from the first time I met her. And i felt the same for his father, Joe. Debbie and Joe are simple people who live a simple life. Debbie is the doting mother and Joe is the soft spoken carpenter who loves to play golf and garden. Chris and I both come from mining families so we grew up in families who never spoiled us but always lived comfortably and knowing that what we lacked in possessions, we were drowning in love and support. But during those early months during a quiet night in at Chris’s with the me, Chris and his mom enjoying a cup of tea looking through a box of embarassing pictures of his childhood they told me about the adoption.

At first glance, you would never guess that he is adopted. He is so much like his father and his mother. And from the family stories I’ve heard over the years, he might as well be his grandfather’s clone.So while we sat at the kitchen table, Chris and his parents told me that Chris was adopted and then told me the story.

Chris’s mom suffered from PCOS (Polycystic Ovary Syndrome) and was diagnosed after she got married. She married young and after struggling for awhile, they visited doctors for a diagnosis. They continued to try when they were finally successful with a pregnancy which ended in a miscarriage just weeks later. She was never able to get pregnant again. While in for a routine checkup, she found out that she was going to need a complete hysterectomy. This promptly stopped all attempts at getting pregnant. At the time they were left with 2 options: becoming foster parents or adoption.

They started the paperwork for adoption. Met with a case worker, went through their assessment and officially started the wait for a baby. 9 months to the day, while filling out paperwork to start the process to become foster parents, they got the call that they would be parents. A woman was giving up her newborn child and they were chosen. And as my wonderful mother in law would say, “It was simply meant to be.” Chris is their only child. They planned to start the process again, but decided that they were happy as they were. Chris was told that he was adopted when he was still a child and it was only after this discussion and Chris and I were together about a year when he decided that he was ready to look for his birth family.

He waited until he was ready. When he came to the choice of starting the process of looking for his birth family, his reasoning’s were simple: curiosity, a more detailed medical background, and wondering if he had any siblings. He talked to me and his parents at great length about it. I told him to wait until he was ready to accept any and every possible outcome. One of our mutual friends actually sat Chris down as an outside party and flat out asked him what he expected from it. Her words still affect me to this day because she told him that worst case scenario is that she is the perfect mom that just didn’t want him. Chris had trouble accepting this train of thought but in a way, as the child who wondered why he was given up, this is the worst case scenario. Best case scenario is that they gave you up because they simply couldn’t raise you and wanted to give you a better life.

The process of looking for his family was a fairly short one. The mother had noted on her file that she wanted to be contacted if he ever wished to make contact. So a social worker was assigned to his case once the request was received. She worked as a mediator for the first few steps of contact. First is a letter from both parties (leaving out information such as last names, contact information) sent to the social worker and she forwards them onto the other party. After that, contact information is given to the child and then its up to the child to make contact with the birth family. Chris finally met up with his birth mother, her husband, and their 4 girls (one girl was older, the rest younger than him). The family was very opening to Chris. He got to meet the half sisters he didn’t know he had. Things were fine at first, they were very opening to us and for awhile we even lived next door to them.

Kisses from mom during their dance.

Chris’s mom Debbie was very open and supportive to the fact that her son wanted to meet his birth family but feared that this would upset him. She regularly shared her fears and concerns with me. She let him do his thing and even went so far as to invite the birth family over for supper. By this time, Chris and I were engaged and living on our own. After a while, things changed with the birth family. At times they felt like moochers. The sisters were different and I didn’t get along with them as well as I did with Chris’s parents. After we moved out of the apartment next door to the birth family, things went downhill. His birth family sorta forgot about us. They never called us when Chris’s birth grandfather passed away but they got mad at us because we weren’t there. We were called about events but we were always asked to help out in some way. If we couldn’t help them, then we simply didn’t hear from them. Two of his sisters got pregnant and gave birth and we still haven’t received the news from them that they were even pregnant. We have more or less separated ourselves from them as much as we can and leave it up to them to make contact.

The birth mother and her children were in attendance at the wedding. I feared that things would be weird because I had had my own falling out with birth mother. But things ran smoothly. Chris danced with him mom and I was told later that that was when the birth mother quietly left the reception, upset. But this had nothing to do with her. She gave up that right when she gave him up for adoption. This was a moment between Chris and his mom.The woman who raised and loved him as if he came out of her womb.

I have, on more than one occasion, asked my husband if it was worth making the contact. I’ve asked if he regrets it. And his answer is always the same. He is grateful for the experience because now he knows. He knows what his birth family is like, he knows the medical history that he was searching and he got to meet his sisters. And more than anything, its taught him even more respect for his real parents, the parents that raised him. Husband deals with an anxiety disorder that was treated from a young age because his parents were aware and sought help for him. He has come to the realization that if he had been raised by his birth mother, it would have gone undetected (like it clearly has with one of his sisters) and he has flat out told me that if he was raised by his birth mother, he would have killed himself long ago because there would have been no diagnosis, he would’ve suffered til he couldn’t take it anymore and take his life. It’s scary to think but it was the point that Chris needed to realize to know just how lucky he really was. How lucky that she couldn’t raise him and gave him to someone who could. And that those people loved him enough to give him the life he has now.

Chris has, I guess, come full circle. He still has not met his birth father. The birth mother won’t give any information over her hate of him. Chris has a name and a general area. He has no push right now to pursue that connection but he has the info he needs if he ever decides to make that move. I think, like last time, he needs to prepare for every possible outcome before he can even decide to make that move. And when he does finally make that connection (if he ever does), it will be because his curiosity has simply won out over common sense.


My favorite picture of Chris and his father, Joe.

My belief system is vague at the very least. I was raised a catholic, but have slowly grew apart from my church and have since my grandmother died almost 7 years ago. I still have a basic belief in a higher power but have stepped away from the man made rules set forth in the catholic church and no other religion has really spoken to me. But what I lack in religious beliefs, I gained a belief in fate and that everything happens for a reason. I think all of this is fate. Chris was meant to be put up for adoption. Debbie and Joe were meant to adopt him. I was meant to take a break from university and work in a call center and we were simply meant to meet there and grow into the couple that we are today. I thank my lucky stars every night for Chris and his presence in my life. But I also thank whatever higher power there is for his birth mom and Debbie. Their choices led to this life. Their choices led me to my husband. I thank both of them. They gave me my husband. In more ways than one. His birth mother gave my husband life and Debbie raised him to be the wonderful man that he is today.

While this is not a choice for everyone, adoption is a wonderful option. There are so many children out there who aren’t as lucky as my husband. While we are determined to do everything we can to be able to have our own biological child, we are not against the idea of adoption. Ideally, we want to have one child naturally and then if we plan to have anymore children, we would like to turn to adoption. And if we can’t have children, I will make my peace with that loss and then we will move on and give our love to another child who needs parents and a loving home. Its a very personal choice, and a decision that does not come easily. The process is tedious, time consuming and expensive. But the rewards are amazing. If you are struggling with infertility, or even if you aren’t struggling with infertility, attend an information session on adoption to see if this is something that you may consider. You never know what will happen…

*as a side note, I would like to thank my wonderful husband for letting me share his story in such a public way. And I would like to extend my thanks to my mother in law, Debbie, for being such a wonderful mother and supporting us through our own struggles with infertility. Also, I have chosen not to share the names of the birth family, I did not find it necessary to my story.