Sunday, June 26, 2011

baby baby

I am not going to lie, I have issues with baby showers still. Ask any woman who has dealt with infertility and many, if not most, will tell you dealing with pregnant friends and family are some of the hardest things to do. Yes, it is incredibly selfish to think like that but there is a certain amount of jealousy that arises. Especially, if you are still in that hopeful stage, where you are wishing upon a star and praying for that baby. For me, having the hysterectomy however necessary it was, was a final slam of the door. I would never, EVER, get pregnant.

I would never have a baby shower.

I would never get to wear cute maternity clothes, like Liz Lange’s line at Target

 or Shabby Apple.

I would never get to decorate a nursery.

I would never get to name a child.

I wouldn’t sing lullabies to my baby as they nursed.

I wouldn’t inhale that sweet baby smell.

I wouldn’t be present for all their firsts and milestones, and every day miracles.

I could never complain about losing the pregnancy weight. I would just be fat because I was lazy and ate too much.

I would never give life to someone else.

It’s a lot of I’s in those statements, but it’s the truth. Infertility stinks. I feel like a failure of a woman, that I am less than because I could not do the one great thing women are supposed to be able to do. There are a lot of less than sympathetic women out there too. I have actually had people act like I was contagious because I couldn’t have kids of my own. It’s a very lonely journey too.

I can’t tell you the number of times I would go into the bathroom and just cry. Or go for a run or a drive and let go of heaving sobs. No one I knew could understand what I was going through because they either had kids of their own or were childless by choice. I wish during all that time that people would reach out and just hug me. I didn’t need to hear any one else’s miracle stories, or about how wonderful adoption could be, or maybe if we just stopped trying so hard, or maybe God had other plans.

I know He did.

Adoption is a wonderful gift and I truly love my son as if I gave birth to him myself, but there always is that what if longing. What if we had started “trying” sooner. What if I had seen a different doctor. All the what if’s…Its been hard to reconcile myself to the fact that I will never know those true maternal feelings, and quite frankly, I am not quite there yet. Add to it, on a lot of levels I still don’t feel like a real mom. Heck, one school mom told me so much that I wasn’t one because I didn’t give birth. I’ve also had people look at me and tell me that I am so brave because I am raising someone else’s problem. Or they ask what’s wrong with my child that he was up for adoption.

Time does soften the raw edges of wounds. I know my Heavenly Father thought it was better for me to love children that were harder to find a forever family for. I know that He had the infinite wisdom to put us in the right place at the right time for the right kiddos. I may have never had the baby side of things, I have had some of the more wonderous moments. I witness miracles on a daily basis in my own home.

Whenever I make a baby gift, I do find myself making it through a veil of tears. That is not to say that I don’t put my heart and soul into making them, its just a little more cathartic each time. Each one is a small step towards wholeness and healing.

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