Sunday, February 26, 2006

This is psycho

So I'm having infertility issues. If you don't want to read a lot of hormonal whine and TMI, just move on right now.

For two years, give or take a few months, I have been waiting for my wonderful husband to get on the train about adding another child to our family. I have not been nagging. I've been patient. Not perfect, but patient. My husband might not say the same, but he is not the one with the persistent dreams about two children, who were obviously not my current ones.

This year he is finally on board. January was the time we agreed on to start making decisions. Because, after all, if you are going to adopt, you have to first decide exactly how you are going to do it. LDS Family Services? Private? International? Foster?

Well, I thought, no sweat. I choose a Fast Sunday, I pray, I get an answer. Or, I head for the temple. No, nu-uh, not this time. I get nothing. I am not used to this. I am used to at least getting some response, some feeling, some validation that I believe really comes from God.

In the past I have been so lucky. My answers have come as words whispered in my heart, as warm feelings, even as symbolic visions. When we first considered adoption, I saw two tunnels, one of which had a light at the end. When we considered moving to California, I saw wide horizons, lots of opportunity. When I was thinking -- no, agonizing, really -- about taking my current job, God whispered to me that I needed to do it for my future children, the ones I didn't have yet. We had to stabilize financially so we could bring them home; it made perfect sense.

Now I get nothing. I am sad, frustrated, and most of all scared that the real answer is that there are no more babies for me. That's the question I don't really dare ask.

So, no new tale to tell. I've lived in this place for twelve years now, on and off and in varying degrees. It sucks.

I'm thrilled to be an adoptive parent and to plan to adopt more, as long as that road is open to me. It's just when it's closed that I seem to revert to getting pissed about being infertile. It's not healthy or charitable or really even very faithful, but it's me.

So today as I was listening to an excellent Gospel Doctrine lesson involving the Abram/Sarai/Hagar triangle, I should have not have been surprised that I was increasingly miserable sitting by a young, single, expectant mother who has recently returned home from her prodigal adventures, sense slapped into her by her positive home pregnancy test. I overheard her mother on Friday talking about buying baby girl clothes, so I think she's planning to parent. (Baby girl ... rip my heart out, why don't you!?) Today in SS I actually rested my face in my left hand with my fingers up beside my eyes, so that I would not see her in my peripheral view. I'm so not proud that I did that. What a jerk.

I'm not proud, either, of railing and crying earlier this afternoon about the absurdity of God giving children to those who don't want or deserve them while those who do are left out in the cold. I know better than that. I learned so much while we were trying and waiting for Sam and Abe. I know that God give stones to his hungry children only as a distraction, a toy to divert their attention while He prepares their feast.

But I can be really bitchy when I'm hungry.

3 comments:

SalGal said...

Oh honey, it's stuff like this that makes me feel incredibly crappy when I used to complain about being PG! (((Hugs)))

I don't know if it means anything to you, and I'm sure it's something you've thought of before, but as I was reading your post I had a specific thought come to my mind as I read "I am sad, frustrated, and most of all scared that the real answer is that there are no more babies for me."

Maybe there are no more babies for you, but there certainly are children out there wanting you for a mom! I know it's not the same as babies, but I can't think of a more well-suited couple than you and Glenny to take in a toddler or even an older child. So much patience have you learned from Sam and his challenges... surely that has prepared you for any other children that come your way!

I love you guys lots and lots, and I'll be sure to include this matter in my prayers today. I know your answers will come!

Tammy said...

Ana ~ You too??? My goodness... I am so in this place right now too. I know our family is not complete but silence is all I get. I'm not used to what you are talking about, that is, the peace that comes from the 'visions' for lack of a better word. Or the writing on the wall kind of stuff. HE doesn't seem to talk to me that way. But it would nice to feel something akin to assurance that our waiting and wondering and, and, and... will be worth it in the end.

Like you, it is in the silence that I get so angry over my barrenness. And it is also in the knowing that another who may not appreciate the joy of adding to their family (enduring that right now irl) that I can't understand this journey we're on... I don't get it, never will.

As you said, Sam and Abe are proof that the journey through infertility is worth it in the end. I say that about my Bug too... but some days, it just plain sucks. There I said it... now I'm done commiserating. Wanted to offer hugs of hope that your child/children join your family soon... and peace in the meantime ((((((Hugs)))))

Chad Too said...

Ooh, I know how frustrating this is. We were ready and excited to adopt again when through the Spirit I was told in no uncertain circumstances that my family was complete and that I should be happy with what I have. That was soooo not the answer I expected to get.

It's very hard for me at times to be happy as I see families around me for whom apparantly a good ward potluck is all it takes to get them pregnant. We have a ward full of young couples and I'm kind-of an uncle figure to most. They always offer to let me hold their babies and I usually have to decline because I get the baby hungries and all the old feelings come back again.

Still, if Abe and Sam are going to be the extent of your family, then let us all rejoice for these beautiful boys have a loving, caring, happy home with parents who love them.