Not yet. I can't. I'm paralyzed. As I eluded to in the first post, we are anxiously awaiting the arrival of our Firstborn {can I say that? I mean it will be our first. And it will be born. I mean we aren't looking for Mork....}. Anyhow. We are adopting. Hoping to, at least.
And it has been a long process. I'm sure that will come up again. Here.
Here is a post from an old blog of mine that I've abandon. Because it was sad. And really not therapeutic.
August 2008 {yes, I did a double take on the date, too. We have been at this for a while.}
"the five stages of grief
My husband and I do not have children. And it’s not because we don’t want them, it’s because we just haven’t been successful in having them. It’s been a long and winding road. Today, I go back to the Reproductive Endocrinologist to see what our options are.
I am a scientist. I was raised by an engineer. I like answers. I need answers. I crave answers. For this: I have none.
Years ago, I volunteered for Hospice. I went through a very long training process where we learned Kubler-Ross backwards and forwards. I knew the 5 stages of grief. I knew them like I knew the multiplication tables. I could rattle them off at the drop of a hat.
Never once, during those Hospice classes, did I think I would LIVE the 5 stages of grief.
And it’s not that I haven’t lost family members, I have. But they were, for the most part, grandparents. I grieved their deaths, but it was a natural progression of life. Grandchildren outlive their grandparents.
Infertility is not death, but it is a catastrophic personal loss. It is uncomfortable to most people. It’s very personal. And awkward. And if you’ve never experienced it, it’s no big deal.
My husband and I progressed through the five stages at very different rates. When we were first diagnosed, he hit the acceptance stage fairly quickly. I, however, did not. I was angry for a very long time. I bargained with God. I was very depressed. And now, I’ve accepted it. I’ve accepted something that is not tangible, that has no answers, and that is keeping us from a dream. That is not easy.
If you were an outsider looking at my life, you would think: But she’s so busy—she would never have time for a family. Kids are hard work, she’s never even home!
The truth? I stay so busy so that I have little time to dwell on it. I can’t fix it. And if it does happen for us, I am in a position to drop everything. And, I’ll admit that when i am picking out next seasons clothes ... in the back of my mind, I think—I wonder if I could find something similar in Maternity. I have thought that since 2004, I’m still holding out for it.
We have no answers. We have "unexplained infertility". On paper, there is nothing wrong with us. But the 1,712 days that we have been trying would say something different.
So, here we are. Seeing what the doctor says next.
Frustrated.
Waiting.
Living.
Wanting.
And sometimes, crying.
This is a much different life that I thought I would lead. I know that God has a plan for us. I just have no idea what it is."
Oh. And I have a story about a high school acquaintance who was convinced that chipmunks grew up to be squirrels. Like. Honestly. Thought chipmunk = baby squirrel. For real. Go public school!
