After each one of our losses, it was never “would we try again?,” rather “how soon can we try again?” There was never any question. We were going to have a family, and we were going to keep trying until we got there. And each time, when we got the OK, I thought I was going to be terrified. And while I was scared, what I found was that I was more terrified of NOT trying. Of not fulfilling the dream we so badly wanted for ourselves, so badly knew we deserved. Double A would often ask if I wanted to take a break for a while. But I couldn’t. Each time, it made me want our family even more.
That’s not to say that when the time came, that there wasn’t a certain amount of panic going on in my mind. Of course there was. In fact, as our losses increased, so did the fear. Could I do this again? What if it happened again? And would I be able to survive it if it did? Forward we went, not knowing the answers to those questions, only knowing that we’d find a way to do so. I look back and still don’t know how and where we found the strength to carry on. And I’m so proud at the fact that we did, that we are.
After loss number 2, we started talking about adoption. This is a subject that is not foreign to me, as my sister placed a son for adoption 18 years ago. Of course back then, I was in college, removed from the situation and didn’t really grasp what she was going through, and what an amazingly brave and courageous choice she was making. In fact, until we lost our first, I didn’t understand it at all. And while I’ll never know exactly how she felt, there’s a new connection between the two of us, as mothers who never got to know their children.
When we met with a woman from Jewish Family & Children’s Services to talk about adoption back in 2010, we walked out of that meeting completely overwhelmed. We realized at that moment, we weren’t ready to truly explore adoption as a family building option. We weren’t ready to give up the notion that we could do this on our own. And at that time, couldn’t see past having our own kids, as opposed to having kids of our own.
Fast forward two years and two losses later, and our mindset is completely different. We realized, for us, that we want a family, and how we get there no longer matters. That you become a parent from the love and care you give your child(ren), not because that child is biologically related to you. For some, adoption is a hard concept to grasp, a difficult choice to accept. For us, it IS an option, and one that just could get us to family. We met with several agencies (some of which gave us the ick factor, others which were too big and promotionally), and settled on one that is just right…for us. So, with our home study complete and approved, we are officially going through the adoption process as one path to family.
Notice I said “one” path. We haven’t given up the notion that we can do this on our own (and by on our own we mean walking each step grasping the hands and guidance of our RPL doctor, not to mention our therapist, support group, acupuncturist and anyone else out there willing to help). At this point, no on has told us we couldn’t. Or that we shouldn’t. So in our minds, that means we can. And we will. At least we’ll keep on trying to see what happens, all while knowing that we’re making progress on the adoption front as well. Yes, we’re now approaching our family plan with a full court press with the hopes that at least one way will end with a healthy baby…or babies.
Some have asked us, what happens if both “work” at the same time? Our answer: GREAT! Sure, we know it’ll be challenging, but after everything we’ve gone through, and 4+ years of waiting, we’re ready for a challenge like that. We can’t wait to be busy and overwhelmed with our kids and their schedules, rather than in waiting for them!
The truth of the matter is that we don’t know what’s ahead of us. We don’t know how long either of these paths will take. And with such uncertainty and lack of control comes fear. I don’t like uncertainty. I don’t like not being in control. And I certainly don’t like the fear factor. But they are all there, and so I have to force myself to walk these dual paths playing the best full court press just like my dad taught me: with determination, a plan and my eye on the ball, er, baby.