Thursday, October 13, 2011

Keeping Perspective

A couple months ago my sister-in-law J told me that she and my brother are expecting baby #4.  She told me before they told anyone else--even the grandparents--because she was concerned about how I would feel.  She was worried that I would be hurt that they are having number four while we are desperately hoping to adopt number two.  I wasn't hurt.  I was excited for them and excited that they live just a few minutes from us so we can be a part of this baby's life.  I appreciated her concern and felt pretty special that I knew about the baby before anyone else in our families.

On Tuesday they had their ultrasound to find out the gender of #4.  (They have two boys and a girl.)  My brother sent me a text that read, "K (their daughter) is officially the last of the Mohicans."  I assured him that K will be fine.  I grew up with three brothers and no sisters and I turned out okay.  He responded with, "If she's anything like her aunt, it will take three brothers to keep her line."  Hey, now!

So after this fun exchange I started thinking about what really had just happened and started to tear up.  No, I wasn't thinking about how wonderful it was that they're having #4 and that wasn't it neat that they had been able to see him.  It hit me afresh that I will never have that experience.  I will never feel a baby growing inside me.  I will never have that "let's find out what kind of baby we're having" ultrasound.  Never.

I couldn't believe how upset I was.  I thought I was past all of that.  I'm okay with our infertility (most of the time) and I love adoption, but it was like a slap in the face, reminding me that I'm different, I'm broken.  I don't get to be in the club.  I didn't feel like B and J were reminding me of this, but our closeness was probably the catalyst for my mini-meltdown.  I love them so much and am so excited for them and feel sad that I will never get to experience the very beginnings of parenthood in the way they do.

I felt pretty sorry for myself for the rest of the day.  I called my husband to tell him the news, cried a lot, and told him I wouldn't be making dinner.  He's so wonderful.  He brought me flowers and ordered dinner.  I kind of just checked out for a while.  I let him do the bedtime routine with Olivia and wallowed a bit.

Then I started remembering that Heavenly Father knows and loves me.  He knows me far better than I know myself and loves me more than I am capable of imagining.  He's given me everything I value (and plenty of things I don't value enough).  He has plans for me.  Big plans.  He has given me the opportunity to be a mother through the miracle of adoption.  He teaches me through my experiences--the good and the tough--and provides me the opportunity to become a better person.  And sometimes I actually remember that.  I think I needed that jolt of awareness this week to help me keep perspective.  I am a daughter of God.  He loves me and wants me to be happy.  That is what I need to remember and focus on--all the time.


Katelyn Krum Shaw said...

When I decided to place my daughter for adoption I made the decision very early in my pregnancy. I made sure that the adoptive mother was at every dr appointment with me, was one of the first people (besides me of course) to feel her daughter move. I tried my dangest (yes I know that' not really a word) to allow her to be part of EVERYTHING with regards to my pregnancy. There was even one time I let her hold my hair when I barfed in a bag (yes I know I'm SO kind!). She said to me just after this post ( I can NEVER thank you enough for allowing me to be part of your pregnancy. For the first time in my life I actually feel like I'm a part of the "growing" process instead of just being part of the "raising" process. I hope you'll one day be able to be part of the "growing" process to!

Sally said...

What a beautiful gift on top of a most amazing gift! Thank you for sharing this.

Stacey said...

I don't know if this will help or not but I remember feeling the same way when we adopted our little boy. During the process I cried a lot (especially when we talked about the delivery) but you forget how hard those times are when you get to hold you little one for the first time.

Best of luck with everything!

Sally said...

Thanks, Stacey! We are so fortunate to have a network of people who understand us.

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