the story of how a family is created

the AGENCY, i mean.

Yesterday evening, J and i met with agency #4 from the post a few days ago.  we both liked her very straightforward, easy to understand manner.  She seems very honest and willing to tell us the truth, even if it’s not great news and she seemed very organized (a good trait to have in this field!).  I think it was clear from that other post that we weren’t interested in working with the only-in-state agency, and we both liked this social worker better than the first one we met with.  the other, bigger agency…. well, when I called them to try to schedule a private (for an extra $100 fee) meeting, it turns out that their social worker just retired (we actually had heard that from our friends) and that the new one wouldn’t start until the Monday after next (May 18) and would be in training all the first week, so our best bets are to attend the free meetings (May 12, three hours away from here OR wait until May 27 for the local meeting).  But then, we’d likely be assigned to this new local social worker.  Hmmmm…. I’m not sure I want to be someone’s first client.  Even if they’ve got history in the field…. I don’t want to help someone learn the system.  And I don’t think we’re interested in driving to some faraway location to find an agency, so…. hooray!  the only catch?  it sounds like this social worker encourages us to choose our own out-of-state agency to work with.  She suggested a few agencies that she’s got experience working with (and I did like a few of them) but we get to do a little of our own legwork calling these agencies to ask them some basic questions.  In the end, I think I’ll like this measure of control over the process, but … sometimes it would be nice to just have someone else make at least one of these million decisions for us!

yeah.  this is a difficult holiday.  i feel like it’s pretty optimistic for me to say that i hope to have a kid by Christmas, but maybe by next Mother’s Day I’ll be able to celebrate?  But arbritrary deadlines are ALWAYS a bad idea.  so I think I’ll go call my mom.

edited to add:  um, apparently NEXT week is mother’s day.  i’ll spare you all the re-post.

Adopting after Infertility by Patricia Irwin Johnston
This was one of the best books we’ve read about our situation.  It walks you through some of the difficult emotions that accompany the loss of the assumption of pregnancy and birth, and then talks about how to decide whether adoption is right for your family and then how to do that.

Secret Thoughts of an Adoptive Mother by Jana Wolff
A short read that follows one woman’s story about adopting transracially in an open adoption situation.  I think the author has become pretty well-known in adoption circles.  I keep seeing her name popping up in magazines and blogs.

Adoption is a Family Affair:  What Friends and Family Must Know by Patricia Irwin Johnston
Although this book is mainly aimed at the parents of adopting couples, it would be a helpful read to anyone wanting to know a little bit about what the prospective  adoptive parents are going through and the best ways to support them through the process.

In Their Own Voices:  Transracial Adoptees tell their stories
I haven’t gotten all the way through this one, but the theme seems to be that there is no “typical” story or “typical” reaction of transracial adoptees.  Some are bitter, some are indifferent, some love their families….  it’s a good reminder of the individuality of all adoptees and a nice cross-section sampling of some of the different reactions they can have to the fact that they are adopted.

Parenting Your Adopted Child by Andrew Adesman
Although I’m about 75% done reading this book, I think it would be more useful once we’re actually parenting a child.

20 Things Adoptees Wish their Adoptive Parents Knew by Sherrie Eldridge
This book made me so nervous about adopting (no matter what we do, our kid will hate us!) that after i read a few chapters, I made J read it and summarize it for me.  He got frustrated with the poorly edited language and the fact that the author seems to have only one or two major points (don’t keep your adoption secret from the kid, don’t lie to them in general) and she just repeats them over and over using different scenarios.  He went onto Amazon and apparently there are two kinds of reviewer responses to this book:  a) “I was so glad to hear that someone else feels this way and that I’m not alone!”  or b) “This book is a bunch of fearmongering hooey.  Just treat your kids honestly and with respect.”

yesterday i finally made calls to some local agencies.  it turns out that there are only about 4 different non-denominationally-affiliated adoption agencies in our town.  not that i’m opposed to denominations, but if i’m not Catholic or Mormon, it feels sort of misleading to apply for adoption at one of their agencies.  anyway, we’ve already met with one of the other four agencies awhile back because a friend recommended that one.  In our conversation with her, it seemed like their agency works more with international adoption, so we’re checking out the others, but keeping #1 as a back-up plan (they have done domestic, but just not as frequently).  Here’s my report on the other 3 in case you’re curious:

#2–A largish organization that another friend worked with.  The first step in their process is to attend one of their informational seminars (or pay $100 for a private meeting at your convenience) which happen about four times a year in our town (they have other meetings in other towns in our state too).  The next big informational meeting isn’t until May 27, and we don’t really want to wait that long, so I think we might try the $100 option.  in the big scheme of expenses for this adventure, that seems like pocket change.

#3–A smaller organization that only does in-state, domestic adoptions.  They also only have 20 “active” families in the pool at one time, so if you want to work with them, you basically have to get into a waiting list to get into the active pool.  I called and right now they’ve got a full pool of 20 PLUS 8 on the waiting list (they limit the waiting list to 10, so apparently it might be possible to be on the waiting list to get onto their waiting list to wait).  She talked about how there’s one adoption that should be clearing imminently, and two more in June and one in July (when the babies are born and assuming that everything goes through without problems) and sort of thought we might be able to get into the pool of 20 by this fall sometime but…. i just don’t think i would enjoy being on the waiting list to wait AT ALL.  i think we’ll skip this organization.

#4–another small organization (possibly only one person?).  The first step in their process is a free, one-on-one meeting to talk about the options.  We’ve got an appointment to meet with them on Monday night.  They do both international and domestic–domestic mostly from Georgia, but also Illinois and Texas–so we’ll see!

A friend responded to one of my posts with this observation:

I have been struck by how private people are about infertility (in general, in society) and that it is an unrecognized grief and just sort of pondering that and wondering why that is. Is it because the act of conceiving is a sexual act and not something that is openly discussed? For example, my in-laws once told me about someone in their church – about how they had had a very difficult pregnancy, and at some point they learned the pregnancy was not viable. They carried the baby to full term, and then had a still birth. And, throughout this, they had shared about it in church, in a very public way, which seemed strange to my father-in-law. And I thought – why? If this were a baby that had been born, and had developed an illness and was dying, it wouldn’t be strange to share that grief. My aunt just lost a finger – and I’ve been getting 20 updates a day on how she is doing, what the status is, how she is feeling. Why are some grief’s OK to share, and others “should” be private? I don’t know that I quite understand it.

I wrote back to her with this reply:

Your insights and questions about privacy are a good reminder for me. Before we struggled through this ourselves, I often asked the same questions.  Once infertility started being my own story, I decided to keep our story private from the majority of the world for several reasons–some conscious and some not.  For instance:

1.  Every time I told someone our story it was painful to relive it. Granted, once I’d TOLD them, I could relax around that person more, knowing that they knew what was going on…. most of the time.  The only time I wished no one knew was when, say, someone announced that they were pregnant and suddenly, I’d feel the “are you okay?” thoughts from everyone who knew that this sort of announcement bothered me reaching out to comfort me (self-centered, I know.  More likely people were thinking congratulatory thoughts toward the happy couple.) but the idea of anyone pitying me always makes me cry with my own self-pity.

2.  The grief of infertility is a stark contrast to the rest of the world of baby talk (it’s sort of the anti-baby talk).  I was thinking about this the other day while biking past a hospital and thinking about all of the people who were inside.  Most of them were there as a result of trauma or illness.  There’s a lot of sad inside a hospital…. except in the maternity ward.  When you tell someone that you’re sad because you’ve lost a finger, they probably sort of unconsciously mentally calculate the amount of time that it will take for you to heal physically and mentally from your wound and they are sad right along with you.  But with infertility grief, no one knows how long that will last.  Plus, they want to “make it better” and solve your problem so they offer suggestions–“why not just adopt? then you’ll get pregnant!”  I”m guessing that not many people are suggesting that your aunt go out and get a prosthetic finger (who knows, maybe they are?) and assuming that that will replace the emotional pain of losing her finger in the first place.  Infertility is a grief that [sometimes] ends with happy and people would like to see you reach the happy because no one wants you to stay stuck in the sad.

3.  I think a lot of the social taboo is rooted in history. Miscarriage used to be so commonplace that baby showers BEFORE the baby was born were taboo–bad luck even–because what if you lost the baby?  I think a lot of the infertility taboos are because it’s related to bedroom talk.  I mean, you wouldn’t want to talk to your in-laws about how great (or awful) their son is in bed and talk about infertility gets awfully close to that discussion.

…I find that the most helpful responses to me these days are those gentle reminders to either look at things from another perspective or reminders about the similarities between adoption and pregnancy or adoptees and non-adoptees.

…i think that the one big thing i will always regret missing out on is not knowing what it feels like to have someone kicking you from the inside. maybe that’s a weird thing to focus on, but in the same way that before i moved up north, no one could have explained to me what it feels like to have the inside of your nose freeze on really cold days, I feel like no matter how many times someone tells me in words what that sensation feels like, I’ll never really KNOW. (and not just the physical sensation, but also the wonder of there being a whole different person (alien!) growing inside of you).

…It’s funny how almost everyone’s first response when they hear that we’re considering adoption is to tell us about the one friend/family member that they know that has adopted / recently adopted, and offer to get us in contact with saidadoptive parents*. I DO enjoy talking to adoptive parents and hearing their stories, (it helps me to feel more normal) but at some point, we have to move ahead and start writing our own story. I want to know how ours turns out!

*it’s almost as regular as the “I’m pregnant!” “When are you due? / Are you having a boy or a girl? / Are you telling the name?” call and response litany.

One of my friends who has adopted told me that once she made the decision to adopt, she felt this overwhelming sense of relief (i think mainly because the decision-making process was done and there was a plan she could follow). She told me that she’d heard of other adopters who express that same sentiment.

I don’t think I’m quite there yet. I’m finding myself (at least this evening) grieving the finality of our decision. It’s not that I’m not excited about and looking forward to the promise of adoption, I’m just at the same time sad about the things that will never happen (and do NOT throw the “just adopt and you’ll get pregnant” thing at me!*). All of those times when I’ve thought “someday…” to myself, I now have to re-write as “Well, I guess I’ll never …”

Now is the time to begin to practice patience–this time, patience for myself. Patience to grieve, patience to ride this seesaw for as long as i need to.

*Here are some reasons not to say that to adopters:
1. Studies have shown that it only happens about 5% of the time.
2. Saying it sort of insinuates that adoption is second best.
3. [Some] adopters have to work hard (see above) at saying goodbye to the possibility of pregnancy in order to be fully present in their current pursuit of adoption and having people say that to them all the time doesn’t allow them to let that go. Also, it feels like you’re not celebrating their decision to adopt.
4. Because EVERYONE ELSE that they meet will say that to them. Don’t add your voice to that crowd.

this morning, on the last full day of our self-directed “adoption decision retreat,” i was a bit worried to realize that despite all of our discussions about adopting and my understanding that this IS the direction we’re heading in and my knowledge that this is really the best path for us right now… despite all of that, there is still a part of me that appears out of the corner of my eye sometimes that feels that this is all very surreal. as though it’s happening to someone else. not me. i’ve been worrying about that for a few days (weeks?) actually, but i’ve just today decided to acknowledge this strange sensation. as i sat boldly next to this thought, i bounced little balls of fear off of it–am i in denial? will these thoughts make me a bad adoptive parent? will i reject my adopted child because i haven’t dealt with this little demon of a thought yet? then i sat next to it quietly for a moment. just breathing. not throwing anything at it. and in that quiet space i realized that perhaps i’m being too hard on myself. MAYBE the reason this feels surreal is that for the past 34 years of my life, i’ve had this vague idea of the list of events that my life would include and up until the last month or two, adoption wasn’t on that list. If the story of my life really was written out as a rough draft, it’s as though this whole motherhood chunk of my future which was sketched out in pencil has just been ripped out of the notebook, crumpled up and thrown somewhere near a garbage can and i’m starting with a clean page. and perhaps the reason that i feel like this is happening to “someone else” is that it’s not happening to the person i’ve always pictured in my future. i am becoming “someone else.” granted, I know that I will still be me. I will still love music. I will still enjoy rhubarb pie. I will still need to have creative outlets in a variety of mediums. I will still be a mom. (wow, it’s weird to write that. i’m really struggling not to type qualifiers like “someday” and “the Lord willing” after that statement…sigh. infertility SUCKS.) But my children will not look the way that i’ve imagined all these years. And I’ll have to fight battles I’ve never imagined would be my own (or my children’s). And there will be new (possibly major) characters in this story (birthparents and maybe even their extended families) that I’ll have to include one way or another. I’m writing a whole new rough draft and the blank pages ahead of me are intimidating and thrilling and just a little bit scary all at the same time. Isn’t that the way all new adventures begin? This IS the new future of me. I just need a little bit of time to get to know this new future me a bit better so that I can fit into her skin. She seems like a brave person. I think I’ll like her.

so on one hand, i’ve read some articles that have pointed out some insensitive things that people have said about adoption–apparently some people’s response to “we’re planning to adopt!” is “I’m so sorry.” — who the hell does THAT?! but usually the comments are a little more subtle and definitely not intentionally hurtful, but could imply that the speaker thinks of adoption as a “second best” option. at least one author I’ve read refers to that kind of thinking as “adoptism.”

but on the other hand, even the social worker that we went to see last week pointed out that “in a perfect world, adoption wouldn’t have to exist. all parents who gave birth to babies would want them and be able to keep them. all parents who wanted babies would be able to have them at the point in their lives that they were ready for them. but those things aren’t true and so adoption is how we make a positive thing out of a not-perfect situation.” or something like that. adoption deals with a lot of very difficult emotional fallout– for everyone involved and for the rest of your life. is this one of those situations where people on the inside of the situation can admit the things that are difficult and painful and stressful, but those on the outside aren’t allowed to notice? or is adoptism more about prejudice against the adoptee as a person and not so much about prejudice against the process of adoption?

Today, I need prayers for patience. The thing that scares me most about adoption, right now, is the unpredictable, uncontrollable timeline. With IVF, it felt like stepping on stones across a creek. I could focus on just finding the next stone which was just a short step away (now we start this medication, now i go in for this exam, now we do this procedure and wait 10 days for results…) and i felt I would eventually, with these small steps, find my way across. Now, it’s like I’ve run out of stepping stones, and I’ve looked up to see where the next stone is or how far away the shore on the other side of the creek is, and I realize that I’ve been stepping on stones that lead out into the ocean. I have no idea how long this journey will be and I have no sight of the other shore. I only have my faith that there IS another shore, somewhere beyond the horizon. And I need patience to find the next stepping stone that will lead us to the land of parenthood.