We’ve all heard the story. Boy meets girl, they fall madly in love, get married, buy a beautiful home (with a white picket fence, of course), get a dog, an SUV, and have exactly 2.5 kids. Right? Wrong. Actually, I should say those things do and have happened; however, the person who came up with this blueprint for a happy life conveniently left out any kind of timeline. So, please allow me to share ours…
Jason and I were nearing our mid-30s when we got married, so we decided to start our family right away. Now, my husband (and anyone else on planet Earth who knows me) will tell you that patience is not my strong suit. So, when I wasn’t pregnant within the first three months, I was a little disappointed. Each month that passed without a positive pregnancy test (I seriously could’ve bought Isaac’s first car with the money I spent on those things!) gave me less disappointment than the previous month, and I found myself growing more worried than anything. We tried to shake off our concerns, but after a year of trying, we decided to discuss it with my OB-GYN. She gave us some really good info, and also ordered some tests for both of us. I can’t speak for other women who have faced fertility issues, but I think it’s something you can feel in your bones, and know something isn’t right. That sense of dread was quickly becoming a panic in the pit of my stomach, and every day it grew inside of me. I’ll never forget the day we got our results. Our prognosis was very poor, and we were told it was unlikely we would ever conceive.
We have never discussed our exact fertility issue with anyone, other than our doctors. Jason and I decided early on that we never wanted the other to feel guilty, or at fault, should we find out that we were unable to conceive. So, we’ve always kept that information between the two of us. You’d be surprised at how many people are willing to ask you personal questions, more than once, and then act annoyed when you politely tell them it’s none of their business. After several long conversations, and lots of praying, we decided to move forward with IVF. Up until this time, I knew very little about fertility treatments. I come from a long line of Fertile Myrtles, so I never gave it a second thought. Let me tell you – it’s physically, emotionally, and financially grueling. It’s also not something a lot of people are comfortable talking about. I wish I had $1 for every time someone gave me the “I think it’s morally wrong.” speech, the “You’re going to hell.” look, or the snide “Maybe you’re not meant to be a mother.” comments. Of course, those always came from people who had three kids. So, I would tell those people to look at their own children, think about how much they love them, then try to image what they would be willing to do in order to have their kids. Needless to say, those conversations never lasted very long.
Our first round of IVF was cancelled right before we went to retrieval. I was devastated, because this meant we had to start over – injections, medicine, visits, labs, money…everything. It was around this time that my prayers also began to change. Up until this point, I prayed for God to allow us to get pregnant. I begged God to allow me to carry our child, to feel him kicking in the middle of the night, and for him to have his Daddy’s beautiful brown eyes. Then, something changed. I began to pray and ask God to give us a family, regardless of how we came together. I knew in my heart, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was meant to be someone’s mother. So, we made it through our second round of IVF, went to retrieval, surgery, and waited. On June 18, 2012, I received a call from our fertility doctor. My blood work was negative. There was no baby. I remember sitting on our couch, staring out the window, feeling so alone. I wondered how I was going to pick myself up and go on with life. How was I going to find enough excuses to keep from having to go to another baby shower…ever? How was I going to deal with the pure jealousy, while faking a smile, when a loved one announced their pregnancy? How was I going to contain my rage when I saw another headline about drug-addicted parents who had beaten their infant to death? How? I didn’t have the answers. All I knew was that I just received all of the proof I ever needed to know that we aren’t on a merit system with God. Sinners receive just as many sweet, innocent babies as saints. I was angry with God about it, and my heart was broken. I wanted to know why. Why me?
After the year and a half we had experienced, Jason and I decided we needed to take a break. We explained to our family and friends that it was too painful to talk about, and we boarded a plane to NYC. We just needed to get away. When we returned home, we had to find a way to get on with our lives. That’s exactly what we were doing when I got the call in July. A family member wanted to know if we had ever considered adoption. It was something we had talked about in passing, but we hadn’t looked in to it. After paying thousands of dollars for fertility treatments, there was no way we could pay $30,000 for an agency and adoption expenses. Add that to the two years we’d have to wait to be chosen by a birthmother (if we were chosen at all), and it just wasn’t possible. I agreed to hear what my family member had to say, and what she said next sounded too good to be true. She knew someone, who knew a woman who was expecting. She didn’t know a lot about the situation, just that the birthparents couldn’t keep the baby. I sat on the edge of my bed, scared to move, for what seemed like an eternity, before telling her I would have to talk to my husband and get back with her. Jason was out of town, visiting a client, when I sent him the message that I needed him to call me. It was an emergency. When he called me back, I told him everything I had been told – and he had the exact reaction I had. Silence.
To say we were cynical and cautious would be a gross understatement. Every time I allowed myself to be excited, the realist in me took over. I was scared to think this was our happy ending. I began to pray and asked God to protect our hearts. If anything was going to go wrong, I wanted it to happen sooner, rather than later; however, I allowed myself to have a tiny amount of hope. All I needed was faith the size of a mustard seed, right? So, I took a leap of faith and decided to call the birthmother – our birthmother. The instant I heard her voice, I knew. She was the answer to our prayers. This lady we knew nothing about was going to change our lives.
Her pregnancy was unplanned. She and the birthfather had another child who was only 16 months older than the child she was carrying. They weren’t in a stable relationship, and there was no way they could keep and raise this unborn child. She was in denial about the whole situation, and had received no prenatal care. She didn’t know how far along she was, her due date, or the gender of the baby. Nothing. When Jason and I decided to take that leap of faith, we had no idea how far we’d have to jump. But, we were in this for the long haul. We asked that she see a doctor, to make sure the baby was healthy. I went with her and heard the heartbeat. Unfortunately, the doctor was called to the hospital for a delivery, and we were unable to have an ultrasound. Our birthmother rescheduled her ultrasound, and we left. We still had no idea if the baby was a boy or a girl, but it didn’t matter. We knew that was our child.
Saturday, September 29, 2012, we were on our way to KY. Our birthmother’s ultrasound was scheduled for Monday, so we decided to drive up early and visit with family. We were on the interstate, between Clarksville and Hopkinsville, when I got the text – “My water just broke.” As we sped to the hospital, there were so many things going thru my mind. We didn’t have a baby bed. We didn’t even have a car seat. Our home study wasn’t complete. Our adoption attorney had yet to complete the birthparents’ interviews. Jason and I literally left home, a childless couple, taking a quick trip for a family visit…and we would be returning home as a family of three. It was hard to wrap my mind around it.
When we arrived at the hospital, we visited with our birthmother, and then talked to her doctor. They sent her down for an ultrasound, and she asked us to go with her. It was so scary to hear them tell her that she was only 31 weeks. That fear was momentarily forgotten when we heard those three words: “It’s a boy.” I’ll never forget the look on my husband’s face when he realized we were having a son. Still, as happy as we were, I was painfully aware that our joy came at a deep emotional cost to someone else. We walked back to our birthmother’s room, got her settled for the night, and then drove home to get some sleep. At 5:00 a.m. the next morning, a nurse called and told us we needed to get to the hospital. She was in full labor, and our son was about to make his entrance into this crazy world. Our birthmother told me she knew I would never be in a delivery room, giving birth to a child. So, she asked me to be with her when our son was born. A little after 7:00 a.m., Isaac screamed and kicked his way into the world. I watched him take his first breath, and I sobbed as I cut the cord. We would spend the next five weeks with him in the NICU, as he grew stronger. Seven weeks after he was born, we finally brought him home to TN.
It’s been a little over two years, and our 3lb 7oz baby has grown into a 30lb, 3ft tall, blonde-haired, brown-eyed, beautiful boy. I send our birthmother emails and pictures of Isaac. It was a promise I made to her, and I’ve kept it. I want her to see how happy he is, and how much he’s growing and thriving. She changed our lives, and I want her to know that I will always love and be grateful for her. After all, she made me a mother.
I think back to the beginning of our journey, and the pain I felt. I remember grieving the fact that our child would never have my husband’s wonderful qualities. I now realize how naïve I was. My husband is the most kind, loyal, and dedicated person I know. He works so hard for our family, and I love watching him with our son. Their bond is unbreakable. I have realized that he’s already passing these qualities on to Isaac. These aren’t things you’re just born with. These things are taught and instilled.
Isaac may not know what my heart sounds like from the inside, but he’s heard it hundreds of times, as he lays his sleepy head on my chest, and I rock him to sleep. I never felt him kicking my tummy in the middle of the night, but I’ve felt him kick me as he crawls onto the couch, snuggles up, and watches Doc McStuffins. Oh, and did I mention that he has beautiful brown eyes, like his Daddy?
Jason and I were nearing our mid-30s when we got married, so we decided to start our family right away. Now, my husband (and anyone else on planet Earth who knows me) will tell you that patience is not my strong suit. So, when I wasn’t pregnant within the first three months, I was a little disappointed. Each month that passed without a positive pregnancy test (I seriously could’ve bought Isaac’s first car with the money I spent on those things!) gave me less disappointment than the previous month, and I found myself growing more worried than anything. We tried to shake off our concerns, but after a year of trying, we decided to discuss it with my OB-GYN. She gave us some really good info, and also ordered some tests for both of us. I can’t speak for other women who have faced fertility issues, but I think it’s something you can feel in your bones, and know something isn’t right. That sense of dread was quickly becoming a panic in the pit of my stomach, and every day it grew inside of me. I’ll never forget the day we got our results. Our prognosis was very poor, and we were told it was unlikely we would ever conceive.
We have never discussed our exact fertility issue with anyone, other than our doctors. Jason and I decided early on that we never wanted the other to feel guilty, or at fault, should we find out that we were unable to conceive. So, we’ve always kept that information between the two of us. You’d be surprised at how many people are willing to ask you personal questions, more than once, and then act annoyed when you politely tell them it’s none of their business. After several long conversations, and lots of praying, we decided to move forward with IVF. Up until this time, I knew very little about fertility treatments. I come from a long line of Fertile Myrtles, so I never gave it a second thought. Let me tell you – it’s physically, emotionally, and financially grueling. It’s also not something a lot of people are comfortable talking about. I wish I had $1 for every time someone gave me the “I think it’s morally wrong.” speech, the “You’re going to hell.” look, or the snide “Maybe you’re not meant to be a mother.” comments. Of course, those always came from people who had three kids. So, I would tell those people to look at their own children, think about how much they love them, then try to image what they would be willing to do in order to have their kids. Needless to say, those conversations never lasted very long.
Our first round of IVF was cancelled right before we went to retrieval. I was devastated, because this meant we had to start over – injections, medicine, visits, labs, money…everything. It was around this time that my prayers also began to change. Up until this point, I prayed for God to allow us to get pregnant. I begged God to allow me to carry our child, to feel him kicking in the middle of the night, and for him to have his Daddy’s beautiful brown eyes. Then, something changed. I began to pray and ask God to give us a family, regardless of how we came together. I knew in my heart, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I was meant to be someone’s mother. So, we made it through our second round of IVF, went to retrieval, surgery, and waited. On June 18, 2012, I received a call from our fertility doctor. My blood work was negative. There was no baby. I remember sitting on our couch, staring out the window, feeling so alone. I wondered how I was going to pick myself up and go on with life. How was I going to find enough excuses to keep from having to go to another baby shower…ever? How was I going to deal with the pure jealousy, while faking a smile, when a loved one announced their pregnancy? How was I going to contain my rage when I saw another headline about drug-addicted parents who had beaten their infant to death? How? I didn’t have the answers. All I knew was that I just received all of the proof I ever needed to know that we aren’t on a merit system with God. Sinners receive just as many sweet, innocent babies as saints. I was angry with God about it, and my heart was broken. I wanted to know why. Why me?
After the year and a half we had experienced, Jason and I decided we needed to take a break. We explained to our family and friends that it was too painful to talk about, and we boarded a plane to NYC. We just needed to get away. When we returned home, we had to find a way to get on with our lives. That’s exactly what we were doing when I got the call in July. A family member wanted to know if we had ever considered adoption. It was something we had talked about in passing, but we hadn’t looked in to it. After paying thousands of dollars for fertility treatments, there was no way we could pay $30,000 for an agency and adoption expenses. Add that to the two years we’d have to wait to be chosen by a birthmother (if we were chosen at all), and it just wasn’t possible. I agreed to hear what my family member had to say, and what she said next sounded too good to be true. She knew someone, who knew a woman who was expecting. She didn’t know a lot about the situation, just that the birthparents couldn’t keep the baby. I sat on the edge of my bed, scared to move, for what seemed like an eternity, before telling her I would have to talk to my husband and get back with her. Jason was out of town, visiting a client, when I sent him the message that I needed him to call me. It was an emergency. When he called me back, I told him everything I had been told – and he had the exact reaction I had. Silence.
To say we were cynical and cautious would be a gross understatement. Every time I allowed myself to be excited, the realist in me took over. I was scared to think this was our happy ending. I began to pray and asked God to protect our hearts. If anything was going to go wrong, I wanted it to happen sooner, rather than later; however, I allowed myself to have a tiny amount of hope. All I needed was faith the size of a mustard seed, right? So, I took a leap of faith and decided to call the birthmother – our birthmother. The instant I heard her voice, I knew. She was the answer to our prayers. This lady we knew nothing about was going to change our lives.
Her pregnancy was unplanned. She and the birthfather had another child who was only 16 months older than the child she was carrying. They weren’t in a stable relationship, and there was no way they could keep and raise this unborn child. She was in denial about the whole situation, and had received no prenatal care. She didn’t know how far along she was, her due date, or the gender of the baby. Nothing. When Jason and I decided to take that leap of faith, we had no idea how far we’d have to jump. But, we were in this for the long haul. We asked that she see a doctor, to make sure the baby was healthy. I went with her and heard the heartbeat. Unfortunately, the doctor was called to the hospital for a delivery, and we were unable to have an ultrasound. Our birthmother rescheduled her ultrasound, and we left. We still had no idea if the baby was a boy or a girl, but it didn’t matter. We knew that was our child.
Saturday, September 29, 2012, we were on our way to KY. Our birthmother’s ultrasound was scheduled for Monday, so we decided to drive up early and visit with family. We were on the interstate, between Clarksville and Hopkinsville, when I got the text – “My water just broke.” As we sped to the hospital, there were so many things going thru my mind. We didn’t have a baby bed. We didn’t even have a car seat. Our home study wasn’t complete. Our adoption attorney had yet to complete the birthparents’ interviews. Jason and I literally left home, a childless couple, taking a quick trip for a family visit…and we would be returning home as a family of three. It was hard to wrap my mind around it.
When we arrived at the hospital, we visited with our birthmother, and then talked to her doctor. They sent her down for an ultrasound, and she asked us to go with her. It was so scary to hear them tell her that she was only 31 weeks. That fear was momentarily forgotten when we heard those three words: “It’s a boy.” I’ll never forget the look on my husband’s face when he realized we were having a son. Still, as happy as we were, I was painfully aware that our joy came at a deep emotional cost to someone else. We walked back to our birthmother’s room, got her settled for the night, and then drove home to get some sleep. At 5:00 a.m. the next morning, a nurse called and told us we needed to get to the hospital. She was in full labor, and our son was about to make his entrance into this crazy world. Our birthmother told me she knew I would never be in a delivery room, giving birth to a child. So, she asked me to be with her when our son was born. A little after 7:00 a.m., Isaac screamed and kicked his way into the world. I watched him take his first breath, and I sobbed as I cut the cord. We would spend the next five weeks with him in the NICU, as he grew stronger. Seven weeks after he was born, we finally brought him home to TN.
It’s been a little over two years, and our 3lb 7oz baby has grown into a 30lb, 3ft tall, blonde-haired, brown-eyed, beautiful boy. I send our birthmother emails and pictures of Isaac. It was a promise I made to her, and I’ve kept it. I want her to see how happy he is, and how much he’s growing and thriving. She changed our lives, and I want her to know that I will always love and be grateful for her. After all, she made me a mother.
I think back to the beginning of our journey, and the pain I felt. I remember grieving the fact that our child would never have my husband’s wonderful qualities. I now realize how naïve I was. My husband is the most kind, loyal, and dedicated person I know. He works so hard for our family, and I love watching him with our son. Their bond is unbreakable. I have realized that he’s already passing these qualities on to Isaac. These aren’t things you’re just born with. These things are taught and instilled.
Isaac may not know what my heart sounds like from the inside, but he’s heard it hundreds of times, as he lays his sleepy head on my chest, and I rock him to sleep. I never felt him kicking my tummy in the middle of the night, but I’ve felt him kick me as he crawls onto the couch, snuggles up, and watches Doc McStuffins. Oh, and did I mention that he has beautiful brown eyes, like his Daddy?
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