When It Nearly Fell Apart

After our third visit to NYC to see Gavin's birth mother, and toward the end of March we had settled into somewhat of a routine.  We both had a lot of work to do in preparation of taking some time off in the near future; we were both running and working out a lot; I spent a great deal of time texting Gavin's birth mother each day, helping her sort things out; we had a house to get ready for a baby...but I wondered if she'd ever have this baby and assuming she did, she couldn't sign anything until the baby was born and we were there. 

About a week and a half before what became Gavin's birth day, and just a few days after our third visit, Gavin's birth mother texted, saying that we needed to come back to NYC very soon so we could discuss the adoption and new developments.  We replied that we didn't understand, we thought that we would be there when the baby was born and there wasn't a whole lot else to discuss until then.  She refused to give details so we began to get worried and called attorneys/social workers the next morning.  After she met with her social worker, we learned that she had signed something promising to give the baby up to her mother.  She wasn't pleased with this and she felt coerced, but this is where things were.  (I'm leaving more out of this section than of any other but if anyone wants details via phone or email I'll be happy to give them).  Her family wanted this baby to stay close to them.  We knew this was important and were willing to visit at least once a year so she and her family could see our child.  This was not enough for them. 

We offered to have a phone conversation with her family, which they agreed to.  After discussing the situation we found that we were at completely opposite ends of a taut rope at this point, and none of us were willing to move.  That phone call was one of the lowest points of my life.  Swears were said. Tears were shed.  it was bad.  But there was also nothing we could do until this baby was born.  We weren't willing to take her promises anymore until then. 

So we were in the uncomfortable position of needing to tell people that we might not actually be having a baby soon, but we might well still be.  It was a terrible limbo.  We kept it to ourselves pretty well, mainly because we didn't relish the idea of going over and over the situation with everyone.  I told only two close friends and I only told them because they asked how the waiting game was going.  They were heartbroken for us and I'm glad I had them to vent to.  Four days or so after the phone call with her family I was at work on a Saturday and while working with a woman I had met just the month before, she mentioned how I'd be soon taking time off with a new baby.  I was pretty numbed at this point to the idea of not getting the baby after all, but when I told her of the recent developments, Sandy just bent over in her chair and cried for me.  Sandy is, to this day and most likely forever, one of my dearest friends because of her good heart and what she did for me through this time.  In hindsight it was odd to comfort Sandy when we were the ones heartbroken. 

Thankfully, Sandy explained the situation to my boss so I didn't have to.  When I met with him the following Monday about work stuff I brought up the subject that I might not be taking some extended time off of work after all.  Like Sandy's reaction I will always remember and be grateful for Bill's sadness and understanding when I explained that we still hoped to bring this baby home.  Our plan now was to travel to NYC when this baby was born and either we'd come home with him or we'd catch a flight to somewhere we'd never been.  I started researching Iceland and Prague as my top choices.  I have never so much wanted to not go on vacation. 

A Third Visit

Again, two weeks after our second visit together, Stewart and I made plans to visit our birth mother in NYC.  This time we road tripped with one of my co-workers and her husband, and their puppy.  We left super early Saturday morning in their van.  Their reason for driving to NYC was to drop the puppy at the airport to travel to his new home in eastern Europe.  They breed puppies (Swiss Mountain Dogs) and they sold one to someone in some country that I can't think of right now. 

We got a bit lost but once we were in the city, we had them drop us off and we navigated our way to the hotel we booked down town.  Miracle of miracles, the room I booked online for $150 which is a steal for the neighborhood we were in, even for a tiny room, was upgraded to a two bedroom suite for the same price.  It was pretty sweet and probably the biggest room I've ever had in NYC for the least cost.

Hotel room aside, the trip was really good too.  One of the main reasons for us to make this third visit was so that we could meet her family who had some concerns about the adoption and while she was of age to place her baby without their permission, we were willing to stay in contact with her family so they could see updates on Gavin as he grows up.  But due to circumstances this visit didn't happen and in hindsight I'm glad to have avoided the awkwardness that would have been present.

So instead we took her shopping and just spent more time with our birth mother.  She was very pregnant and uncomfortable and it was weird to see the baby inside her move.  She asked us what we wanted to name the baby because she wanted that to be the name she would give him in the hospital so that he wouldn't have two names.  I think she also asked us to have him baptized in the Catholic Church.

We all went to church again together on Sunday before Stewart and I took the train home to Buffalo again.  At this point I started to worry that she would be the first woman to be forever pregnant.  Would she ever have this baby?  Would something go wrong to keep us from bringing this baby home?

At this point, and SPOILER, it's weird to think that there was a time when Gavin was anything but 100% ours.  He now will reply to my "Love you, Gavin" with an "I love you too, Mama" and that's pretty much the best thing ever.

Next up, he almost wasn't ours.  I still get worked up when I think about the two weeks that followed our third and final visit with Gavin's pregnant birth mother.   

The Second Meeting--this time with Stewart

When I returned from my first NYC trip with Gavin's birth mother I had to first explain to everyone how while we thought we'd be having a baby that weekend, it would actually most probably still be several weeks.  On one hand it gave us more time to prepare and to get things in order.  On the other hand it gave us more time for things to derail this adoption and for us to go stir crazy waiting.  But our lives took on a form or normalcy that seems like a dream when I think of those days now.  Work for me was crazy busy, especially with the understanding that I'd soon be taking some serious time off.  We had lots of friends who wanted to throw us baby showers there were several people (i.e. our mothers) who were almost as excited as we were, just without the concerns we had that things wouldn't work out. 

I received so much advice from co workers, as well as so much baby stuff.  I think people took it as an opportunity to clean out their old baby stuff and we were the recipients.  I still smile when Gavin pulls out a toy from one of my Synacor family members.  One of my coworkers adopted both of his kids from Korea so he and I had many conversations about what may lie ahead for our little family.  Neither he nor his wife look at all like their Korean kids, but Andy said he still is awed when he looks at his son and sees himself, or when others mention how much his son looks like him.  He means in facial expressions and how he holds himself.  But we had discussions about identity and how he and his wife have handled some of the issues that have come us.  When people find out you're in the process of adopting, they are also more likely to talk about the experiences with adoption.  This is how we found out that some of our friends were adopted, and so many of them were gracious enough to answer and bear any questions we (mostly I) threw at them.  I will forever be grateful that we live in a time when adoption is an open topic and something that most people are not afraid to embrace.

Two weeks after my initial visit with Gavin's birth mother, Stewart and I went back together.  We have a good friend from college days who works for Jetblue and she was kind enough to let us use some of her buddy passes to fly to NYC for a weekend.  We took the train home again on Sunday afternoon.

I'm so glad that Stewart got to meet her and that we got to have a really good weekend together.  I honestly think that it's because of our visits that things worked out.  We took Gavin's birth mother shopping for food and some other necessities and we took her out to eat.  On Saturday we took her to the Natural History Museum which happens to be Stewart's favorite place in NYC.  It was really fun to do touristy things in a great city.  At her request we took Gavin's birth mother on a horse driven carriage ride around Central Park.  This is something I never would have done otherwise.  It's kind of expensive and I like a good walk around the park anyway, but for her it was a pleasure.  And now I'm so glad to have done it.  All this time we're communicating with her using our very limited sign language and by writing notes.  But we made it work. 

We attended church with her again on Sunday, her request being that we pick her up in a cab and all go together as a family.  Attending a deaf congregation is interesting in so many ways.  No one closes their eyes for the prayer because they can't know what is being said if their eyes are closed.  Hymns are signed except by any one in the congregation who is hearing and chooses to sing.  After church, Stewart and I headed off to Penn Station to catch our train home. 

**side note from today: We still use a video monitor to see into Gavin's room at night.  The camera is currently stationed on a shelf above the shelf that holds his humidifier.  Every now and again a puff of humidifier air will float in the camera's view and when I see it out of the corner of my eye it looks like a ghost.  It totally freaked me out the first time I saw it.  But here's one of my favorite shots from the end of the summer.  This kid.  He's it. 

Her name is Kylie

Kylie is not Gavin's birth mother.  But she knew our birth mother and without her Gavin wouldn't be our little boy.  Kylie is wonderful and faithful and kind and so many other things.  Please forgive me if I get any of the details wrong but this is how I remember it from the version Kylie shared with me last year.  Kylie lived in NYC and attended the deaf branch of the LDS church there.  Kylie is not deaf but is married to a deaf man.  They are two of the most faithful people I have ever known.  So here is how I remember Kylie's tale. 

In December 2013 she went to a church activity and ran into our birth mother.  It was at this meeting that our birth mother told Kylie that she was pregnant and didn't want the baby.  Kylie told her that she could have the baby adopted by a good Mormon couple that she could choose.  Our birth mother was excited by that idea and soon set up her first appointment with LDS Services in Manhattan.  At some point she put together a list of what she wanted in an adoptive couple and the social worker gave her a couple profiles to view, ours being one of them.  We skyped with her and the next day she picked us!!

Now Kylie's version of the story is incredibly faith filled and she believes that all of this happened because it was meant to happen and that we were destined to be Gavin's parents.  I often tell people who ask for the story of Gavin's adoption that if they believe in miracles they will see them all along our path.

Kylie has since left NYC.  She and her husband now live on the west coast and I hope that this means we get to see her more often, but as it stands we Facetime occasionally.  She and her husband had a baby nearly a year after Gavin was born.  If we ever have a daughter her name will be in the running because I feel like we owe her so much for helping our birth mother find and choose us.  But according to Kylie, who is humble beyond words, she deserves none of the credit.  She is just happy to have been a part of our miracle.   

The First Meeting

We felt pretty good at this point, though still a little unsure because so much could derail our adoption.  We had some contact with our birth mother and we tried to prepare for this next step in our lives.

Our birth mother has had a rough life.  Like, very rough.  She's deaf and lives off of her social security disability.  She grew up in a foster home in Queens and from what I have pieced together, she was kicked out around the time she turned 18.  She had three kids, one born each winter/spring in the three years before Gavin was born.  I often think of all the things I take for granted and I appreciate all that I had to give me a head start on my own life.  She had  none of that.  And since we made ourselves (mostly myself) available to her, we started hearing from her a lot.  All day, into the evenings and sometimes in the night.

When she first came to LDS social services she told them that she was due February 22 and we had every reason to believe her because she had already had three babies, and recently too.  So when she texted on February 13 that she was in labor I knew I needed to get to NYC pronto.  I had a co worker drive me to the airport where Stewart met me with some luggage of what he thought I'd need for a few days until the baby was born and he could join me.  I bought a plane ticket at the counter and it was all very dramatic.  By the time I landed at JFK there was still no baby.  Our birth mother was not really in labor, but since I was there, I offered to meet up with her so we could get to know one another.

At this point my sign language skills consisted basically of the alphabet, and I was very slow at that.  We wrote a lot that weekend.  I admit that part of me was worried before I met her that she wasn't really pregnant but that she was scamming us and and LDS social services.  But she was in fact pregnant and quite so from what I could tell, with my no experience with a pregnancy beyond 8 weeks.

That Friday was Valentine's day and Stewart was home alone.  Poor guy.  That evening, after I had returned to my friends' apartment where I was staying until the baby was born and Stewart joined me, I got a series of texts from our birth mother that she was in labor and headed to the hospital.  I packed a few things and grabbed a cab to her hospital where I met her in an exam room.  I wasn't there long before I realized that she was not in fact due on February 22.  Not in February at all.  And most likely not in March either.  Probably April.  But I was ready to have a baby now!  But the doctor did confirm that the baby was in fact a boy.  I have no idea how she figured her due date or that it was a boy because this was the first pre natal visit she had.  With this pregnancy or her other three.  I don't know if she thought she didn't need it or if she thought she'd have to pay for it.  The doctor explained that with her medicaid she could get all the pre natal care she needs for the remainder of this pregnancy for free, and that the hospital would provide an interpreter.

I learned so much about this hospital and medicaid and the welfare system in general, as well as a lot about our birth mother over the next several weeks as I helped our birth mother make and keep appointments.  She usually gave her phone to a nurse or doctor to call me at these appointments so they could explain to me how she was doing.  Screw you, HIPAA.  But at each appointment, both birth mother and baby seemed healthy.  I started reading about survival rates of babies at various stages of a pregnancy.  I can only imagine how OCD and obsessed I would have been if I had to go through a full pregnancy.

On the Sunday following Valentine's day I attended church with our birth mother in the sign language congregation where she attended.  They "sing" hymns and my eyes were not the only ones open during prayers.  I met her branch president and the missionaries there and I'm so glad I did.  But I couldn't stay in NYC for two months so after church I took the train (I LOVE trains) home to Buffalo with a promise to return soon, and with Stewart.

Next up, the one woman who, more than anyone besides our birth mother herself, made our adoption possible. 

The Initial Phone Call

They way that the system works (or at least worked in our case) was that when an expectant mother decides to give her baby up and meets with an agency or attorney, she tells them what she has in mind as far as an adoptive couple/person.  The agency or attorney then helps her find people who meet these criteria.  When we fit our agency or attorney would share our profile and the link to the blog we created just for this purpose.  She looks through several and decides who she wants to meet.  We made it this far once in December 2013 but ultimately weren't chosen.  During the first week of February 2014 we got a call from LDS Social Services that we met the criteria for an expectant mother.  After a brief description of her we, without hesitation, allowed them to share our profile with her.  The following day she said that she wanted to skype with us. 

**side note here...For anyone who believes in miracles there are so many of them in the story of how Gavin became a Forbes.  For anyone who doesn't, there are some amazing coincidences.  Many of them begin about here. 

This expectant mother is deaf so our call was delayed a day while the social worker lined up an interpreter.  The week before we learned of her, a deaf man I worked with started offering a sign language class over lunch once a week.  I attended so I had a bit of a head start (not really but I did remember most of the alphabet) and it showed her that I had an interest in learning sign language.  It was a nerve wracking but really good call but we had no way to gauge how she felt about it.  The following morning while I was at work I got an email from the expectant mother that intimated that she had picked us after our call the previous night.  I showed a co worker and forwarded it to the social worker.  And yes, she had picked us!  Wow.  So many emotions and a fair amount of disbelief.

We made phone calls and told our families and tried unsuccessfully to keep from getting our hopes up.  And we put up the crib we'd had shoved in a corner of our third bedroom nursery.  Part of me had a hard time believing that we'd ever really become parents but here we were.  There was still a lot that could go wrong and some of it almost did but we made it this far and we were cautiously optimistic overjoyed at the prospect. 

Not just any baby will do

One of the forms we had to fill out to help match us with a birthmother related to what we wanted and were willing to accept as far as the child goes.  Some questions were easy.  We said we'd accept either gender and any racial make up.  Beyond that it required a bit more soul searching. 

We had a list of diseases/possible birth defects/other things that we had to consider.  We talked to doctor friends and looked stuff up on the internet and talked about a lot of things we never thought we'd have to consider when having a child.  Ultimately we crossed several things off our list of what we would accept but we still left quite a bit that we'd consider.  At times this felt pretty crappy because it's hard to want a baby desperately but to have to admit that we don't want just ANY baby.  But, whether it's a rationalization or legitimate reasoning, we were ok with our choices because we gave up a whole lot of control by choosing this route and this was one way that we could reassert some control over the situation.  All of the information we got from birth mothers was self reported so we knew we'd never be 100% sure that the information we had would be accurate anyway. 

At one point we were given the chance to be considered by a pregnant woman who had an STD.  I got the information about the birthmother while I was at work and I remember looking up the disease and saying rather loudly in my very open work environment, "well, if you're going to have an STD, that's the one you want."  Fortunately my co workers all knew what we were going through and they assumed my comment was related to an adoption rather than marital problems at home. 

After all this was done and our wait officially began we tried to distract ourselves as best as we could.  One of my favorite distractions was a trip we made to NYC just after Thanksgiving in 2013.  We met up with some old friends and had a great time playing for a few days.  One of our friends is very tall and this is me wearing his coat and hat before we headed out for the day.   

 And a more serious picture of the two of us. We saw a couple of plays and  went to some museums and went to mass at St. Patrick's and walked all the way back to our hotel one night while Stewart and Dan sang loudly in the street and ate great steaks and pizza and laughed and just had a great time. 

Little did we know on that trip to NYC that our birth mother was there too, pregnant with our Gavin and trying to decide what to do. 

*side story...last night after we put Gavin to bed he didn't fall asleep.  He wasn't fussy but he wasn't falling asleep so I went up to cuddle him a bit.  Usually when I have to do this he pushes away from me after a minute and asks to be put down and then he falls asleep.  But this time he put his head on my shoulder and we just snuggled.  Then he asked for his beanbag so we laid down there.  He asked for a blanket and had brought his stuffed lynx.  Then we smiled at each other and had kisses and talked for a few minutes and then he fell asleep blowing me kisses.  It was maybe the greatest thing ever.  I think I promised him a pony but fortunately he forgot about it this morning. 

Paperwork and Meetings

Back to the story of Gavin...

Once we'd decided to move forward with adoption and chosen a local agency in Buffalo to do our homestudy we paid them a load of money for the pleasure of doing a bunch of paperwork.  We had to be fingerprinted, supply 20+ years of addresses (big thanks here to my dad who remembered the address we lived at for 6 months when I was 8 and to Stewart for keeping a record of his addresses while he was a missionary in France for 2 years), find people to write recommendation letters for us, and take classes on how to not be sucky parents. 

We chose my brother and his wife to write our family recommendation letter, and three couples who are long time family friends to write the non family letters.  We never saw the letters but from what our social worker said, they were all very positive. 

After all the paperwork was done and our background checks came back (clean, I might add!) we were assigned a social worker who was with us the rest of the way until we matched with our birth mother.  I met with individually one evening, Stewart met with her individually the next evening and she came to our home to meet with us together the following Saturday.  She said it was always interesting to meet couples alone and then to see how they interact together.  She said that it's especially interesting to see who was the alpha in a relationship, but that she could always tell.  At the end of our meeting I asked her who was the more strong one in our marriage and she thought for a minute and then admitted that she couldn't tell.  I take that as a compliment. 

Another high point to the meeting with the social worker was when she asked us about our hopes for our child.  I told her that I'm sure that everyone she meets with gave her an answer like wanting their child to go to a good college, have a career they love, and someday have a family of their own.  So instead I told her that I wanted my child, boy or girl, to throw a baseball well.  She said she had never gotten that answer before.  Before she came over, she told us not to stress out about the meeting.  She said she had a morning meeting once where the couple had baked a ham so their house smelled good.  She told us that was not necessary but I still thought about making cookies.  In the end I decided against it in favor or going for a run to reduce my stress.  And the meeting went really well. 

At this point all we had to do was to take the classes required by the agency.  We had class on Friday night for four hours or so and then all day on Saturday.  Some of it was kind of absurd but I left the first night feeling like our fertility issues were fairly small.  It's amazing how personal you can get when you know you're coming from a similar starting point.  With other women I met that night I discussed  miscarriages, missing ovaries, drugs, surgeries, etc.  Stewart and other husbands discussed almost losing their wives to these things.  It felt kind of like a sick support group.  One social worker started her presentation by asking how many of us had seen the movie Juno (all of us).  She then told us to throw that idea out of our minds because that never happens. 

At one point we did some role playing in groups of three or four couples.  One of the situations our group had was to show how we would deal with our parents treating our adopted child different from their other non-adopted grandchildren.  The other couples were very diplomatic and said that they would sit their parents down and explain how that hurts them.  For us that didn't really feel right.  Our families already knew that we expected them to treat our child just as well as they treat their other grandkids and if they ever didn't we would sever our relationship with the offending parent.  We wouldn't let our kid be around someone who would treat them poorly just because he's adopted.  Fortunately this isn't something that is an issue in our family at all.  I actually kind of feel like Gavin is especially special to all of his grandparents and I feel kind of bad for his cousins.  But they get to hang out with him so it's still a win for them. 

Anyway, after the classes and the paperwork and the meetings with the social worker we were set.  Stewart graduated from law school on May 18, 2013 and when I stopped at home between lunch and the ceremony I found a letter in our mailbox saying that we were approved by the state of New York to bring a baby home.  It made a great day even greater.  But then began the looking and the waiting.  More on that later. 

(I couldn't find a photo of me with Stewart at his graduation but this is him with four of his closest law school classmates.  I will forever love these guys and their families.  And now I miss them all over again) 

Coping

This is kind of an intermission in the story of how Gavin came to be ours but it's been on my mind a lot lately and I feel like I need to get it out. 

Throughout all of the infertility and adoption stuff we went through there were some really rough moments.  Most of those came after the second ectopic pregnancy though when the fertility procedures early on didn't work I hit some low moments as well.  I remember going to bed early after a failed IUI a time or two.  I was bummed after I had surgery to find and correct a problem because the doctor didn't find anything wrong. 

After the first ectopic pregnancy I actually felt pretty good, emotionally.  It gave me hope that I could get pregnant and maybe it was just  fluke that it was ectopic.  But the second one just about did me in.  I woke up in the night to some pretty bad pain, thinking this one had ruptured too.  I thought for a few minutes about just letting it kill me.  Like I said, just about did me in, literally.  Ultimately it was the thought of Stewart being widowed that got me out of bed and to the hospital.  It turned out to not have ruptured and to just have been the ectopic dissolving so it wouldn't have killed me, but I couldn't promise that I would make the same choice if I found myself in the same situation again.  Quite honestly, if we hadn't found Gavin I probably would have tried to get pregnant again and either it would have been a healthy pregnancy or I would have let it kill me.  Like I said, just about did me in, literally. 

So my downward spiral really got started toward the end of August 2012.  Maybe it was because the second miscarriage happened right when the first pregnancy would have been due.  Maybe it was because I was just worn down from all of it.  Maybe it was extra hard because Stewart was still in law school and I tried to not demand too much of his time.  Either way, this is pretty much when things go real for me.  I spent the next year and a half trying to keep myself going so as not to lose myself entirely.  Below are some of the things that helped me get through it until Gavin was born and placed in my arms. 

Do something to move the process forward.  Even though you may not be able or ready for in vitro or adoption, do something so that you don't feel helpless.  I researched adoption agencies and grants and ultimately pressured Stewart into starting the process sooner than he would have liked.  (I'm normally pretty high maintenance but I image that I took it to exponential levels at this time).  Once we were approved I worked on the blog we used for pr.  I took some solo trips to Palmyra and Niagara Falls and around town to put together a post here and there. 

Throw yourself into something, hopefully something healthy or otherwise productive.  This worked kind of as a diversion for me.  I turned to two things to take up my extra time and attentions.  The first was my job.  I was fortunate to have a job that could be very demanding and time consuming.  And I loved what I did and the people I worked with.  And it paid off in the form of raises and promotions and even more career satisfaction.  Things were especially stressful between the time our birth mother picked us and the day Gavin was born.  Which worked out well in that work got crazy busy about a week before we met her.  I worked late and weekends and found a lot of solace at Synacor.  My coworkers were some of my best sounding boards. 
The second thing I turned to was running and exercising.  I logged a lot of miles on the streets of Buffalo and watched a lot of netflix while lifting weights in the morning.  It was  great way to use up extra energy and it gave me something with real, tangible results.  I lost about 20 pounds in the nine months that Gavin gestated.  Not many women can say that about their baby. 

Give up things that make your life more difficult or cause undue pain.  This has probably had the longest lasting effects for me.  A few months after the second ectopic my little sister got pregnant.  I spoke to her in January when she told me she was pregnant.  After that I don't think I spoke to her until Gavin was born, 14 months later.  Stewart suggested a few times that I call her but I just couldn't bring myself to do it.  I couldn't ask her about her pregnancy without saying something awful.  In the midst of this my little brother got married and Stewart wasn't able to go to the wedding.  I seriously thought about not going and I still kind of wish I hadn't.  Even still, I only saw my family for the actual wedding and I got out of there as quickly as possible.  It was especially hard to have my mom make such a big deal about the baby.  I think my other sister seriously thought that I was in the process of divorcing myself from the family for good and for all I know I would have severed all ties by now if we were still childless. 
The other big thing I gave up was church and church related worship.  Mormon church can be very family oriented and members can be kind of tone deaf with questions or comments or lessons.  I don't know how many times I left a talk or a lesson because I couldn't take one more comment about how motherhood was the most wonderful thing ever (which it is, for me now!) or how our pain can be lessened by believing or worshiping or praying because it didn't work for me.  I came to the point where it only caused pain so I cut it out.  We still went to church some and to Stewart's credit he kept us reading scriptures (though we threw out the Old Testament) and praying though my participation waned.  But I had no heart in it.  I know that there are some who will disagree with this but it is my experience. 

And the final thing that saved me through all this was Stewart.  He is forever my rock and a great source of strength and reason.  He deserves far better than me but I hope he never realizes it.  In the end I decided that I needed to do what I had to in order to keep myself alive and (kind of) sane so that I could come out on the other side.  And I did.  And I have the greatest little guy because of it.  See, amazing.  And he climbs in  my lap with a book and runs to me at the end of the day.   

Why Adoption?

Like most couples, adoption was not our first choice of how we would have children, but over time it became what made the most sense to us, and what we felt gave us the best chance at a child.  After 10 years of infertility, which included all sorts of tests and treatments and surgery, we finally got pregnant...twice.  But each of those ended in early miscarriage.  I still can't really wrap my head around being pregnant.  At this point a positive pregnancy test only means a lot of worry, near daily blood tests, and loss so I'm not terribly interested in it.  

There's also the cost factor.  Because of the nature of my miscarriages (both ectopic and nearly life ending), if we ever want to get pregnant we will need to do in vitro.  Which is pretty expensive and at best only gives you a 30% chance of having a baby.  And then there's all the emotional baggage for me that results from a positive pregnancy test as well as the crazy that ensues when I'm on fertility meds. 

We had friends offer to surrogate for us, but that's a legally gray area, and that wouldn't be much different from in vitro, except it would use someone else's uterus.  As far as we know my uterus is fine and it never made sense to use a surrogate unless we knew that I couldn't do it for us. 

The biggest hurdle I had to overcome, was to change my focus and obsession from getting pregnant to having a child.  The miscarriages helped this a lot.  During my brief pregnancies, I had time to actually think about having a baby and being a mom.  And I still wanted it.  So much.  

So we started looking in to adoption.  We found a local agency and attended orientation and started the paperwork.  I probably pushed us faster on this than Stewart was comfortable with, because he was still in law school and was super busy with that, and his internship, and he still had to take the bar and find a permanent job after that.  And then I only added to his stress by freaking out about having a baby and needing to get going on it NOW.  For this and many other reasons, my husband is worthy of far better of a wife.  But that's another topic all on its own. 

Over the years people have told us that we could always "just adopt" but I assure you that it is not that simple.  It took a lot of soul searching before we were even ready to being the process.  Then we had to do all the paperwork and attend the classes before the state would even allow us to adopt a child.  And then we had to create profiles and print profile books and wait for an expectant mother to be interested in us and then we had to consider situations, all of which are less than perfect, and then we had to have contact with expectant mothers who were interested in us, and then we had to pull ourselves out of the abyss that comes after another couple was chosen instead of us and to not over-analyze everything we said in the phone conversation and psych ourselves us for doing it all again and again and again until we're maybe picked.  It's rough.  Really rough at times.  So we didn't "just adopt" but we did adopt. 

But it's what we needed to do and I'm forever grateful to our birth mother for selecting us.  Gavin is worth everything we did to bring him home, a million times over.  I honestly don't think my love for him would be any different if he had come out of my body, and I've even had a few moments where I forget that I didn't birth him or carry him for nine months. 

The Very Long Tale of How Gavin Became a Forbes

I recorded a brief version of this story on facebook but I want, and probably need, to get a more complete record of this somewhere and facebook is a little too public.  I don't necessarily want to keep anyone from reading this, I just want to know who's reading it.  Please feel free to share our story with anyone, especially if they're in the midst of infertility or adoption drama of their own. 

It was a long road and at times I felt like we would never have a baby and I wished that I just would be happy with what I had.  But I wasn't and we kept at it and and eventually we got our Gavin.  We have many friends who have taken different routes to parenthood and others who are still working toward it and others who had to give up their dreams of motherhood or fatherhood.  My heart aches for those who want children or more children and have to work a bit harder to get there.  I still remember the pain and tears and frustrations.  

My plan is to tell our story Reader's Digest style, in fits and starts based on how much time I have available and what I feel like sharing on any given day.  Parts may very well be tmi for some but, again, I feel like I need to get this out.  I apologize if any of it is too raw, or if I offend in any way.  I also have some thoughts about motherhood and working while mothering and insecurities and the struggles and rewards of being a mom.  But hopefully we can take comfort in the fact that our story has a happy ending in a perfect, beautiful little boy who is making my dreams come true every day.  

So, for now, enjoy a photo of Gavin.  It's old and I don't think it fully captures the level of awesome that he brings now, but it reflects his newborn awesome pretty well. 

Help?

Stewart graduated from law school on Saturday.  It was a pretty great day and a huge accomplishment.  But that wasn't the only milestone we reached on Saturday.  On my way out the door to commencement, I found in our mailbox, the official approval of our adoption home study.  We can now say that we are home study ready and can bring a baby home as soon as we find him/her.  So...

Help us find our child?  Please?

We're still putting the final touches on our profile with lds social services but we've met with them and are working with them so we can be matched there or through our local agency, or privately.  So while we wait for our profile to go up, we've started a new blog, http://carolynandstew.blogspot.com/, and email address, carolynandstew at gmail dot com, just for adoption purposes.   Feel free to share these however you can. 

Thanks! 

I guess I've got it easy

Sometimes something happens to give me a little perspective, to remind me that I have it so easy.  Sure, infertility has been rough and two ectopic pregnancies in one year is horrible and awful and terrible but I still have it easier than a lot of people out there. 

The happenings at an elementary school in Connecticut last week once again reminded me that I am not vulnerable to some degrees of pain right now.  And the thought of being that vulnerable scares the heck out of me.  Believe me, I am sooo sad about what happened and if I knew one of the kids who was killed I would be even more so, but I honestly can't imagine what those moms and dads are going through.  I can't imagine the pain they feel or the depths of their sorrows.  I feel sick to my stomach but I realize that it's not even close to the same thing. 

Throughout the years I've sometimes wished that I didn't have this desire to have a kid, that I could be fully happy with what I have.  I've wished that God would take this yearning from me if it's not ever to be fulfilled.  And then maybe I could be happy with what I have.  But I keep coming back to wanting to be a mom, even though it sounds crazy sometimes to want to give so much of myself. 

And sometimes I think that all this is so not fair, when I see people who have kids who I think are less deserving than we are (like I can really judge that).  But then, sometimes, I also realize that it's ok that it's not really fair because I sure don't deserve the good things I have in my life.  I don't deserve the husband I have who is spending his first night on break from school cleaning the bathroom, or the educational and professional opportunities I've had, or the amazing parents and siblings that I have, not to mention all the people that have done so much to help bear our burdens this year especially.

What I'm saying is that I'm incredibly blessed even though that doesn't always come through here, but I do know it at least on some level.  

In fact, here' s a photo to show just some of those things that are awesome about my life: 

1.the Husband is amazing.  2.my sister and her husband (not pictured here) came to visit.  3.we got to go to Toronto 4.we knocked another baseball park off our list 5.ballpark hotdogs  6.we had a beautiful walk from the ballpark to our hotel through Toronto. 7.I didn't die in January so I was able to enjoy all of these things in August.  I could go on but I won't. 

On Pain

8/30/2012
When is it okay to give up? Is it after the years of infertility? At least we didn't have the false sense of hope to lie to us during that time.  Is it after the first ectopic pregnancy and watching my lovely wife almost die? We recovered from that, or at least we recovered as much as one can.

How about now? A second ectopic pregnancy in one year, and on the due date of our last pregnancy no less. Can I give up now? Can we retreat into our sorrow and depression? Can I look at all the happy families and feel anything but jealousy and loneliness?

I feel empty. I don't know if I have anymore to give.

9/19/2012
Update:
If you didn't know, don't worry or take it personally. We probably didn't tell you. We are recovering...ish. I feel like Job, or at least the protagonist in a Lifetime Original Movie. That said, we still have each other, our families, our friends, and our faith to sustain us. We will be okay in the end.

What is the worth of a conception?

Don't worry, I don't want to get into a debate about the worth of a person, or even what it will cost us to get a tiny person of our own (I keep a running tally in my mind but I'm going to need some paper and a pencil soon :) but I have lately decided to institute what I'm calling "Period Presents." 

Every 28-32 days I have a really really bad day.  At least I know it's coming and can prepare for it (stock the freezer with Ben & Jerry's and make sure I go for a run a day or so beforehand, etc.) but I still get really sad.  So I've decided to try to make this time of the month a little easier on me by buying myself something with the money that I'd otherwise be spending on a crib or a car seat.

For April I got myself a raclette cooker.  I went all out and got the granite top and everything.  For May I got myself a book (even though I'm not technically allowed to read any books this year that I didn't own on January 1, 2012), which I bought from our local, independent bookshop even though amazon had it for about half the cost.  The idea being instant gratification and supporting the local bookshop.  I called ahead and had them reserve the last copy they had.  When I stopped by to pick it up after work they had coupled it with volume 4 in a five volume series on President Johnson or Ford or something like that.  Since this was meant to be an inspiring book-buy I politely declined the latter.

I think my June present will be a bike, even though I haven't ridden a bike in years and I'm a bit scared of the prospect.  I like the idea of biking around town this summer.  So in my free time over the next few weeks I'll be bike shopping.  One month I may get a massage.  For another my present may just be a block of raclette cheese and the chocolate cake for 2 from here, except it will be for just me.  Once the husband is a big-time lawyer I'll add fancy vacations and expensive clothes to the list.  I've already warned him that I might come home one day with a shiny new car that is terribly non-sensible.  And I'll probably get a dog after we buy a house again (I've already decided that his name will be Beauregard and I'll call him Beau so I have to find a dog that looks like a Beauregard). 

I've found that I'm not the first to do this while dealing with infertility, and I hope that it brings me and the others who do the same thing, a little bit of comfort, at least for a short time.  Feel free to offer ideas but here's to hoping I don't make it too far down my list. 

A Husband's Perspective

There are moments when eternity stretches out before you, and you see it with almost perfect clarity. Yet sometimes that vast expanse is not a land of grapes and honey, but a vast morass of nothingness. A chasm from which nothing escapes. Not light. Certainly not hope. It is the moment when you face every fear and every sorrow you hold sheltered and buried in your heart. It is a moment of utter and complete helplessness. That single moment fills and consumes you, and it leaves you flaccid, beaten, and empty. If you emerge from its unforgiving grip, you come out hollowed, vanquished, and spent. It is despair.

When was that moment for me? Was it when I saw my wife unconscious on a hospital floor? Was it when the doctor informed me we'd lost a child I never knew? Was it waiting an hour, a lifetime, in a sanitized and merciless hospital waiting room? Is it now?

It is in all of these, and more! It is  found in the unforgiving march of every day. It is the demands of a life that doesn't stop for tragedy. It is heard in the harmless word that cuts, despite itself, to the quick. It is in the jealous thoughts, and the accompanying shame. It is in the irrational belief that no one else can understand the sorrow and longing that you feel. Mostly it comes in the dark hours of the night when all is quiet, and you are left alone with vivid flashbacks of pain and anguish.

And so I am left with the choice that has faced all mankind since that fateful day when Pandora opened her box: Do I despair? I know that I will never be the same. Although, I have less patience for selfishness and shallowness now than before; I also have more empathy and understanding for the suffering of others. I see behind the eyes of those around me, the sadness that tinges all men and women. Is that an answer?

Of course it is not. But the answer is this, no one is ever truly free of the burdens life lays upon them. No one ever completely heals in life. True the cuts may heal, yet the memory remains. It is an ever-threatening abyss that wants to render you catatonic in its anguish. But the memory is a liar. The moment of pain and despair may have overwhelmed, but it did not destroy. Neither Wife nor I will ever be free of the sadness of losing that unknown child, nor of the fear and pain of almost losing her.

Yet I cannot help but think that death and suffering make the experience and appreciation of life and joy that much more acute. Whereas the despair would have me think that I alone experience such sadness, the sorrow of life is the common heritage of mankind. No man or woman lives in such isolation that they do not experience the spectrum of human life. Is it comfort to know that others have suffered as we have suffered? No. But the comfort is in knowing that they have overcome, and from worse things too. It might take us a week, or a month, or the rest of my life, but we will be okay.

Recovering

Lest anyone think that I'm stronger than I am, these past few weeks have sucked. They've sucked monkeyballs. I get very sad and cry a lot and Stewart holds me and never tells me not to cry. But we're making it through. And I think we're doing well at it even.

I've been back at work for three weeks, only took one week off. The routine is really nice. Everyone at work has been wonderful, they still don't want me lifting anything. It's kind of hard for me to let others do stuff I should be able to do.

My birthday's coming up later this month and the husband asked what I'd like. I told him I could really use a new ovary. And I even found a place where he could get me one. But alas, he got me some other stuff, including a movie I recently bought for him. Is a replacement ovary something a girl can buy herself? I don't know the etiquette on this one.

I still can't exercise, I'm giving myself until the aforementioned birthday to take it easy a bit so I have more free time than I'm used to. Which means that my house is cleaner than it usually is, and I watch more tv too.

At my follow-up appointment with the doctor we reviewed the results of all of my lab work that I had done the day before I exploded. Interesting stuff. She tested me for clotting factors, given my family and personal history. I had no markers for Factor 5 Leiden (yay!) but one marker of two other clotting factors. Nothing to be too concerned about but she may put me on a baby aspirin regimen when I get pregnant again. And my vitamin D levels were dangerously low so I have some pills to take. And I tested negative for every single STD. Double Yay! But not surprising.

Surprisingly, the doctor said that we can start trying to get pregnant again right away. I was worried she'd want me to wait a year. That being said, we're not ready yet. Stewart isn't terribly excited to do something that almost cost me my life the last time I tried it. So we'll wait. But not forever.

I used to be scared of giving birth. What if I need a c-section. What if it hurts more than I expect and I want an epidural? Well, I'm not concerned with those things anymore. I'll be able to handle it. And a c-section will be just one more layer to have cut open than what I had done last month and this recovery has been alright, not as bad as expected.

The fallopian tube and ovary I lost were on my left side. When I ran through our glass door as a child, the stitches I got and all the scars I have are on the left side of my face and my left wrist. When I was hit in the head with a golf-ball at 17 and got stitches again, it was on the left side of my face. While out running with the husband last year I biffed it and road rashed my left knee, left shoulder, and still have a faint scar under my left eye. I'm pretty sure that I'll wake up one morning, my left arm having fallen off, a huge clot in its place.

We're going away for Mother's Day weekend. I just don't think I'll be able to handle church that day. So we're planning a trip to Pittsburgh where we'll hit a baseball game and run a cancer-fighting race. Father's Day is up to Stewart but I think he wants to stay here because last year the RS gave all the men candy bars and he's sucker for a Nutrageous.

Despite the all around suckiness of this situation, there is still so very much I'm grateful for in how this has played out. I can't say enough good things about the hospital we went to, though I haven't gotten the bill yet. Because its part of the Catholic Health system here in town, they bury the remains of all the miscarried babies in a local cemetery and hold a memorial service twice a year. We'll be invited to the next one. I received a card from the housekeeper on the ob-gyn floor. They sent me home with some letters and poems from the chaplin's staff there. While my religious beliefs are not exactly the same as those of the Catholic church I am so grateful for the support system from the hospital and that the remains will be buried. If Stewart ever becomes a filthy rich lawyer we'll add a wing onto the hospital. And maybe get me that new ovary.

Even though some of you already know...

I took this test two days after Christmas while we were staying in my sister's basement in Utah. I didn't believe it because we hadn't met with any doctors, or spent thousands of dollars trying to get pregnant. So I didn't tell the husband. But he kept bugging me about how my period should have started. So two days later I took another one, same result, and shared it with him.

Excited! Thrilled! Scared! Still a little unbelieving, so I took five more over the next week. And found an ob-gyn once I got home. We weren't sure when we'd tell everyone but we knew we at least wanted to wait until we were sure that it wasn't just vacation-diet induced nausea.

I met with my doctor on Thursday, she confirmed and sent me for a sonogram. The tech wasn't available that night so I scheduled it for a week out, when they had evening hours since I had just missed a lot of work and wanted to go after work hours. I didn't want anyone at work to suspect yet.

Sunday evening while making my famous chicken parm I felt some cramps, got a little worried but since there was not bleeding I thought I'd just wait it out. I'd never been pregnant before and thought this might be normal. After the pain got worse I realized that this couldn't be normal, had the husband call my dr, get her answering service, and she called me back. She happened to be at the hospital that day, working already, and suggested that we come to the ER to get it checked out.

By the time we got to the ER I was in a lot more pain, which only got worse while we waited for our turn. And I puked. Several times. Finally they take me back, get me all hospital-gowned and start examining me. While all the medical personnel are out of the room, I decide to use the bathroom. Before I make it very far, I pass out, totally, hitting my head on a table on my way down. Husband panics, rightfully, and calls for help. We find that this is the most effective way to get attention in a hospital. Noted.

Sonogram and ultrasounds later, my doctor has joined us and they've alerted the OR to get ready for me. Turns out it's a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, pretty severe. At this point the pain is bad enough that I cannot wait for them to knock me out and cut me open so they can fix me. The iv in my arm missed my vein, my arm swells up and hurts like a son of a gun. A man who was having a routine appendectomy gets bumped because I'm in a worse way. Doctor tells Stewart that she plans on going in with a scope, should be done and in recovery in about an hour.

While scoping out my belly, doctor finds out that I have a lot of blood in my body cavity. A lot. So doctor has to open me up to get all the blood out. And to remove the burst fallopian tube, and it turns out, ovary. This ends up taking much longer than the hour that husband was expecting. Meanwhile he spends what I can only imagine is a horrible amount of time in the ICU waiting room. He calls our parents. And I understand he cried some.

I wake up in the ICU three hours later with a lot of people around. I think I lost about 40% of my blood, hence the passing out. I received three units of donated blood and some plasma to boot. And I have a nice long scar on my belly. And no more fallopian tube or ovary on my left side. And I hurt. A lot. It was a busy night in the ICU, Stewart and I slept when we could but I was hooked up to all sorts of machines and nurses came to take my vitals every few hours. Stewart and a friend of ours gave me a blessing Monday evening, before they moved me from the ICU to the normal ob-gyn floor.

The past few days have been filled with tests of all sorts, hospital food, visits and calls/texts from wonderful people, flowers and tears. And even hugs. Wonderful hugs. I wouldn't have traded spaces with Stewart for anything. I much prefer being the one cut open to the one who was left waiting, possibly being widowed.

I am healing, the physical scars will be healed very soon. The emotional scars will last for the rest of my life. But it will be ok. Really and truly. I am still happy, with moments of sadness. I have been so grateful that the hospital we came to is the Catholic one in town. I highly recommend both my doctor (Doctor Julie Gavin) and Sisters of Charity Hospital if you ever need medical care in Buffalo. I've received cards and flowers from people that I never expected. Stewart and I will be a stronger couple because of this, I will be a stronger, more worthy person because of this. And I've even smiled this week. And laughed.

I've left out a lot. But I'm more than happy to share on a more personal level if it will ever help. I am so happy to be alive and to be able to move forward. I am excited to see my mom who is coming to help for the next few days. I am grateful to feel the love and prayers from so many people. You make this much easier than it otherwise would be.

I've been reading General Conference talks for my scripture study these last few nights in the hospital. Tonight I read Elder Hale's talk. Last night I read Elder Uchtdorf's talk where I found my new favorite quote ever, "We have the incomprehensible promise of exaltation—worlds without end—within our grasp. And it is God’s great desire to help us reach it." It's true. It's all true. And I intend to reach it. With Stewart.

Allow me to Vent

Even apart from the usual not-being-pregnant suckiness, I just really hate my period. I'm uncomfortable and disgusting and I just feel all around gross. And a little bit hurty. Then the hormones and moodiness kick in. I'll break down crying if even the smallest thing goes awry. I'll cry some and maybe throw plates at the wall. Except we recently bought some new plates so I'll have the presence of mind to throw the old, already chipped plates instead of my new shiny plates. Stewart's out for the evening, helping with a move, which is probably good for him. I don't need a target for said plate-throwing. Then I'll cry myself to sleep tonight and I'll be fine tomorrow. Just like every month. Sadly, this is normal.

So I came home from work today and made myself a chocolate silk pie. Because my chocolate silk pie has raw eggs in it. I know you can make it without the salmonella but this way it's comfort food that is bad otherwise. And I buy good eggs so I like to think that my risks of an egg-born illness are lessened. But it has to chill for three hours. (see previous statement about something not going right) So for now it's me and the Lifetime Network, I mean Comedy Central, I mean the news. Whatever.

Some Much Needed Perspective

When I run I don't listen to music. It doesn't do anything to motivate me. But a session of the LDS church's General Conference sure does. So during my run this morning I heard one of the speakers recite a story given by Hugh B. Brown before I was born. I love this story so I'm going to share it now.

You sometimes wonder whether the Lord really knows what he ought to do with you. You sometimes wonder if you know better than he does about what you ought to do and ought to become. I am wondering if I may tell you a story that I have told quite often in the Church. It is a story that is older than you are. It’s a piece out of my own life, and I’ve told it in many stakes and missions. It has to do with an incident in my life when God showed me that he knew best.

I was living up in Canada. I had purchased a farm. It was run-down. I went out one morning and saw a currant bush. It had grown up over six feet high. It was going all to wood. There were no blossoms and no currants. I was raised on a fruit farm in Salt Lake before we went to Canada, and I knew what ought to happen to that currant bush. So I got some pruning shears and went after it, and I cut it down, and pruned it, and clipped it back until there was nothing left but a little clump of stumps. It was just coming daylight, and I thought I saw on top of each of these little stumps what appeared to be a tear, and I thought the currant bush was crying. I was kind of simpleminded (and I haven’t entirely gotten over it), and I looked at it, and smiled, and said, “What are you crying about?” You know, I thought I heard that currant bush talk. And I thought I heard it say this: “How could you do this to me? I was making such wonderful growth. I was almost as big as the shade tree and the fruit tree that are inside the fence, and now you have cut me down. Every plant in the garden will look down on me, because I didn’t make what I should have made. How could you do this to me? I thought you were the gardener here.” That’s what I thought I heard the currant bush say, and I thought it so much that I answered. I said, “Look, little currant bush, I am the gardener here, and I know what I want you to be. I didn’t intend you to be a fruit tree or a shade tree. I want you to be a currant bush, and some day, little currant bush, when you are laden with fruit, you are going to say, ‘Thank you, Mr. Gardener, for loving me enough to cut me down, for caring enough about me to hurt me. Thank you, Mr. Gardener.’”

Time passed. Years passed, and I found myself in England. I was in command of a cavalry unit in the Canadian Army. I had made rather rapid progress as far as promotions are concerned, and I held the rank of field officer in the British Canadian Army. And I was proud of my position. And there was an opportunity for me to become a general. I had taken all the examinations. I had the seniority. There was just one man between me and that which for ten years I had hoped to get, the office of general in the British Army. I swelled up with pride. And this one man became a casualty, and I received a telegram from London. It said: “Be in my office tomorrow morning at 10:00,” signed by General Turner in charge of all Canadian forces. I called in my valet, my personal servant. I told him to polish my buttons, to brush my hat and my boots, and to make me look like a general because that is what I was going to be. He did the best he could with what he had to work on, and I went up to London. I walked smartly into the office of the General, and I saluted him smartly, and he gave me the same kind of a salute a senior officer usually gives—a sort of “Get out of the way, worm!” He said, “Sit down, Brown.” Then he said, “I’m sorry I cannot make the appointment. You are entitled to it. You have passed all the examinations. You have the seniority. You’ve been a good officer, but I can’t make the appointment. You are to return to Canada and become a training officer and a transport officer. Someone else will be made a general.” That for which I had been hoping and praying for ten years suddenly slipped out of my fingers.

Then he went into the other room to answer the telephone, and I took a soldier’s privilege of looking on his desk. I saw my personal history sheet. Right across the bottom of it in bold, block-type letters was written, “THIS MAN IS A MORMON.” We were not very well liked in those days. When I saw that, I knew why I had not been appointed. I already held the highest rank of any Mormon in the British Army. He came back and said, “That’s all, Brown.” I saluted him again, but not quite as smartly. I saluted out of duty and went out. I got on the train and started back to my town, 120 miles away, with a broken heart, with bitterness in my soul. And every click of the wheels on the rails seemed to say, “You are a failure. You will be called a coward when you get home. You raised all those Mormon boys to join the army, then you sneak off home.” I knew what I was going to get, and when I got to my tent, I was so bitter that I threw my cap and my saddle brown belt on the cot. I clinched my fists and I shook them at heaven. I said, “How could you do this to me, God? I have done everything I could do to measure up. There is nothing that I could have done—that I should have done—that I haven’t done. How could you do this to me?” I was as bitter as gall.

And then I heard a voice, and I recognized the tone of this voice. It was my own voice, and the voice said, “I am the gardener here. I know what I want you to do.” The bitterness went out of my soul, and I fell on my knees by the cot to ask forgiveness for my ungratefulness and my bitterness.