Hey, you’re joining us in part two of Infertility and Me, a Love Story. Click here to see Part 1!
Infertility wasn’t an issue in high school. Infertility wasn’t an issue in college, either. It really became an issue for us after we realized we were kind of at a wall. We’d both graduated college, he had his career established, I was working my way into my career and finding my way quite nicely, we had a mortgage, we had a dog. Where’s the baby? The baby wasn’t coming. I wouldn’t be carrying our child. That’s our wall.
It’s not that we just looked at having a child as the natural next step for us. It wasn’t that. It was that we had everything we wanted to have, we had the room both physically and emotionally to care for a child, we had room to grow the family we so desperately wanted.
It was around this time that one of my best friends went through with adoption for her son. She found an agency she loved that treated her well, and the couple she placed her baby boy with were equally, if not more, amazing. Overall it sounded like she had as positive an experience one can have doing something as selfless as placing your child in another home.
So, we made an appointment.
Adoption had never been off the table for me, even before I knew about my infertility. Walking into the adoption agency I was filled with hope. We were going to talk through the process, get some numbers, and get things set in motion. I was so excited, and told just about everyone where we were going. This was the start of something amazing, after all.
What actually happened was a little different.
The counselor we met with was nice enough, but she made it clear that people our age rarely come by their office. They typically work with people in their mid-to-late thirties. That wasn’t a problem, of course, but it put me off right away. It makes sense that they would typically work with people older than us. Most people don’t start trying to have a baby until our age, and only after a few years will they find out what is wrong. After they find out something is wrong, then they’ll spend time trying to correct whatever it is before they finally decide on adoption. I felt the need to apologize for being diagnosed so young, for marrying so young, and for wanting to grow my family at a reasonable age. We knew this would be a long process, so we wanted to get started as soon as possible.
Then she pulled out her packet and walked us through what a typical adoption looks like with their agency. The initial application, the thorough application with the home study, the waiting, the placement, etc. It was all very straightforward, very cut and dry. If I’m honest, it’s all things I already knew. But looking at the packet on her desk I couldn’t help but feel that it was all very transactional. I didn’t know if I was buying stock in their company, or becoming a mom. I was disappointed. I don’t know what I expected to be different, but this was not what I anticipated for this meeting.
I started crying as soon as we got back to our car. As cheesy as it is to some people, I have always felt that in that moment God was telling me “this isn’t a part of your plan”. I knew our first child would not be adopted via traditional domestic infant adoption. I can’t tell you how disappointing it is to have your heart so set on something only to be told no by God. I wish I could say I trusted Him, and trusted that everything would work out, but I didn’t. I was just heartbroken. There’s no other way to explain it.
If not adoption, then what? Medical intervention and foster-to-adopt, that’s what.
Stay tuned for part three.