spun sugar

I didn't expect it to still hit me on a daily basis. 

What I was missing. 

I am careful to acknowledge that Baby Boy ultimately isn't mine but is God's child that He's entrusted me with. And I can't put my hope in another besides God. I don't want to place my child on a pedestal. 

But, with those clarifications, I was simply incomplete. 

I get these flashes. Flashes of searing pain. Emptiness. A brittle shell of a person going through the motions of life. 

Life doesn't stop when you don't know if you'll be a parent. If you'll ever have a child to love or to share your life with. When your pregnancy ends. The world just keeps turning. 

You go to work. People ask you if you have kids. 

Pages of the calendar turn. You begrudgingly acknowledge holidays. 

You go to social functions. People ask when you are going to have kids. 

You go to the zoo and parades alone. Because it's just you two. 

You don't have much to add to conversations of others your age. You face subtle and blatant reminders of your barrenness at every turn. 

The dim light is extinguished when the heartbeat is no more. It was a small flame trying to grow. But it's just darkness and a lingering scent of smoke. 

It was "for the best" and "at least you know you *can* get pregnant". Yes, I can still hear these harsh words cutting through my ears and into my heart. I don't hold a grudge for the well intentioned speaker, but it's just not something I can forget. 

When these memories and realizations haunt me, I envision myself as a hollow, empty, fragile thing. Like spun sugar on top of a fancy dessert. It could break with the smallest of touch. Or just dissolve away. So light and delicate. Space throughout its core. Nothing solid. Barely held together. 

Not long after these memories sear, I have a swelling gratitude. For baby boy. For his truly sweet disposition. For his uncanny curiosity. For his soft skin and adorable looks. For who he makes me. For the good he brings out in me and in us. For the motivation and drive he brings. 

I know what it is for a heart to sing. 

I know what sacrifice is. 

I am throughly and constantly amazed and entertained. 

I am in charge of growing a little mind, body, and spirit. 

I am no longer hollow. I don't pass my days holding my breath. Or longing. I can exhale deeply. My life is rich and robust. 

I don't know what I am but I'm not spun sugar. 

I'm grateful- I do know that. I can't say it enough. Back to my singing heart. Swelling with amazement that God and science can make this possible. That a perfect stranger would give us his gift. That waiting and pain could refine me into who I am certain I was meant to be. That the lowest lows can't outweigh the joy of having him here. 

This baby. This means. This crucible of faith and character. All along, this was my story. 

better version

God knew what He was doing. 

I had hoped that was the case. 

Hope was not easy to come by. 

And now, I find myself at times just waiting. Waiting for something bad to happen. Morbid thoughts, they are apart of my anxiety. 

I'm so grateful things fell apart the way they did so I would be pushed off my comfortable cliff of constant panic and fear into a mostly peaceful sea. 

I'm still taking z.olft. It's not a tiny colored pill anymore. It's one and a half larger white ones. 

I'm a better version of myself. 

I'm the mom baby boy needs. I can let him branch out- not too much because after all he was not easy to come by. But I can handle the stress of life and all the fears of car accidents or cancer or something happening to him at daycare or me forgetting him in a hot car. The thought still come, but they don't control me. 

There's no real point to this other than to say- I shared when I first started medication. And I'm still taking it and feeling better than I ever have. I am so grateful to have this new brain so I can soak in every day with my baby who is quickly becoming a toddler. 

ONE

One.

My chubby cheeked, tan skinned, four toothed little boy is ONE.

My life is full of light and love.

He laughs so often.

He gives the sweetest kisses with no prompting.

I am so thankful for this gift. The gift of him. The gift of family and of motherhood. The gift of sacrifice.

I am very behind on updates. Life has not lent itself to time to blog, but for all the best reasons.

I intend to keep this blog going. Even if the updates aren't as frequent- our journey is not over.

So Sweet

(Baby boy playing his xylophone as he winds down for bed)

Life isn't perfect but it's so sweet. 

The other day D was mowing the lawn. Baby boy and I were sitting outside. Baby boy flapped his arms and scrunched his nose when D drove by. He pulled up on my shoulder and balanced on me- watching birds fly overhead. 

Last summer our lawn was way overgrown. A friend's husband graciously came over to mow. D was still out of commission with his foot, and I didn't feel comfortable with the noise and vibration since I was pregnant. 

Oh what a difference a year can make. 

Looking Beyond

I couldn't get past my hopes. They felt like impossible expectations. A baby. Just one. We didn't care if we were given boy or girl. We didn't care what he or she looked like. We just wanted to be parents. 

Then, it finally happened. An afternoon in August brought us Baby Boy. 

I've said it a million times. He's perfect for us. And he's so good. So patient. So determined. So good natured. So far healthy. I'm biased but he's a doll to boot. 

We didn't even know to hope for all we got. 

We got a second family. For lack of a better comparison- A sister and brother/aunt uncles. Nieces and nephews. Grandparents. A melting pot of love. Deep genetic ties meet environment, his parents in the trenches. 

We meet with open arms. We acknowledge each others' roles in Baby Boy's life. He looks just like them. He's our baby. They brought him into existence. We brought him into the world. We all struggle to find adequate words but the English language has none. However, words are not needed to know what is in our hearts. Two families are forever tied together, brought to each other through pain and struggles. 

We took Baby Boy to the West Coast last week.  His second trip to the home of his genetic family. And it's really home, home away from home. I feel comfortable there. I can curl up on the couch and share meals and explore with Baby Boy's genetic family. 

My heart bursts to see Baby Boy grin at the woman he shares a warm complexion and blood type with, the man he shares hair color with, the children who, at any given time, he can seemingly morph to favor. Slivers of his genetic sister at one glance, pieces of his genetic brothers at other glances. 

Blood type and physical features and DNA does not determine a family, but it's still important. It's noteworthy. None of us four adults know exactly how much it will mean to the kids one day, but we all believe it's best for them to know each other, to develop relationships, to have that open door. 

I can only speak for Baby Boy. He might not ask questions about his original family tree. He might not want to know stories of his heritage. But this way, he can. 

And he can be entirely loved now.  

He can get an extra Easter bunny from a bonus grandma. He can have more hugs and kisses from kids who dote over him. He can have more adults cheer him on as he pulls up and sprouts his first tooth (time be still). 

So I've received more than I ever imagined. And I believe my child has already received more than I ever imagined for him. 

What a beautiful story. 

Intricate details unfold. 

A family tree expands. 

Love is exchanged. 

I thank God for blessing me in ways I never asked or imagined and certainly don't deserve. 

Sweet blessings

Today last year, it was pouring rain. D had yet ANOTHER follow up appt for his foot surgery turned three foot surgeries. I was still driving him to and from work. He had a picc line with IV antibiotics.

 After working all day, we had to go to the Big City to see his doctor. Then drive home in rush hour traffic. Headed straight home to get the next dose of medicine hooked up. 

The rain was actually letting up. We were a mile from our exit. And the wheel flew out of my hands. We flew towards a concrete wall. Crash. Fly. Crash. Cry. 

How could this be? This life inside me just underwent two major impacts. He couldn't survive that. His movement wasn't consistent yet. Oh how I wished he would move! I killed my baby. The baby we waited so long for. 

I called 911 as I scrambled up a muddy embankment to see where we were. The words wouldn't come out. I couldn't tell them where we were. All I could say was that I was pregnant and needed to get checked, through streaming tears. 

The ambulance came quickly. I shook and shook as I lay on the gurney. I don't want him to be dead. What will I do? 

It took so long to get to the ER. The roads were still wet. It wasn't a true emergency, so we were driving at a crawling pace. 

They brought me right back to a room and mercifully brought a Doppler. It was hard for them to find his heartbeat. The ER doesn't do it every day. Two nurses worked together. My breath was frozen. I remember it like it was yesterday. 

Shop-shop-shop-shop. A heartbeat pounded. 

I hated the Doppler already, from my bleeding scare. I wasn't convinced it was his hesrtbeat. I knew his should be in the mid 100s. I was so worked up that I was worried they were capturing mine and thinking it was his. 

And now 365 days have passed. 

It was sunny and 70. 

Baby boy and I sat outside in the grass. He's been clingy today. He crawled into my lap. I picked a dandelion for him and he shook it until all the fluff was gone. 

A billowing piece drifted by us. He reached his chubby hands out to grab it. 

Thank you God. Thank you for seeing it fit for him to make it to this world. For allowing me to be his mom. Out of all time and all the people in the world, he's mine. We sit on the ground of this three quarter acre lot with green grass, sun, blue skies and a breeze. We're not hungry. We're not scared. We're not sick. We're experiencing the very sweetest blessings God can give. 

Now. I choose Now.

I never fully believed stuff like this, back Then. Sure, it sounded good. 

But Now... Now I know how true it is. 

The path takes you where you were always meant to be. 

In this moment tonight. Rocking baby boy. He's just finished a bottle after waking up crying. He shouldn't be hungry yet, but he spent all evening crawling and pulling up and smiling a gummy grin of pride. So that left no time for much milk. 

So I hold his 21 pound, solid frame firmly in my arms. Like I've said before, he just fits. 

As he sucks the last few drops of his bottle, his eyes close. His head twitches and nods back and forth, cradled in the crook of my arm. He's got one hand by his face and the other casually folded behind his head. He's taking slow, deep breaths. He's 7 months, wearing 12 month pjs, and his tone little belly sticks out between the shirt and pants. 

His head nods and twitches some more. His hair is getting lighter. And thicker. It sticks up more on the left side than the right, no matter what I do to it. His skin is soft. His lips are perfectly rounded and at rest. Until he starts "sucking his fake paci". 

If I had him Then, would I notice each detail? Would I appreciate him as much? I'm certain the answer is "NO"! 

If things happened the way I hoped so many times, I wouldn't be here. Now. 

I wouldn't cherish and savor each day with him. The way I am tonight. The way I have done each day since the day in early August when I first saw his little face. 

I wouldn't have endured the amount of pain I did, that widdled me to my very core. That revealed my anxiety disorder. I would be a neurotic, impatient, frustrated mom were I made a mom Then. I'm treated Now. I feel like I can handle anything. 

I wouldn't have the relationships I have Now. My sisters in embryo adoption. Fellow recipients. My son's special genetic mom. (And genetic extended family- he's not an only child after all). 

I hated waiting. I hated the suffering. The sacrifice. The running on a hampster wheel that never seemed to result in anything positive. 

I'm here Now. I'm where I'm supposed to be. 

Another Visit

I'm eager. 

Asher's genetic mom is going to be in our area for a conference. So she's visiting. And she's staying with us! 

It's like anticipating a visit from a friend. I'm excited to see her and catch up in person. I'm excited for her to see how much baby boy has changed in only 1.5 months since she last saw him. 

I never would have guessed at the end of the long road to my child would be a friend and almost like a sister at the end, too. 

Seasons

It's a new season. 

The cold, hard ground gives way for new beauty. 

Change is in the air. 

I step outside my new home. Tulips are blooming. I put baby boy into his carseat. 

I don't want to jinx myself, but I'm living my life! The life I hoped for. 

I dress a squirmy baby. I watch him learn to open and close his hand (deeply fascinating for a developing mind). He says "mama". 

It's a new season. It's my season! 

Here

We're still here. 

We're settled into a new house. And baby boy has been sleep trained. So life is getting more normal and I've got my wits about me with rest and new routines. 

Expect more posts soon. I've got a lot on my heart! 

Opposites

I don't deserve this baby. He steadily sucks his paci and gently rubs his cuddle bear and wubanub while I finish getting ready. He sighs and pulls his paci in and out, coos, then closes his big, dark eyes. He's so calm and content. So very patient. 

The opposite of what I can be at times.

I can hardly wait when I must, but he has taught me to. 

Nothing

I take nothing for granted. 

Every moment is a miracle. 

Male Perspective on Embryo Adoption

I pulled my high school journalism skills out (I was yearbook editor and ran a newsletter for my church youth group- ha!) and ran some questions by D to get a male perspective on embryo adoption. It was insightful and humorous to hear this thoughts.

What were your first thoughts when you heard about embryo adoption?

I pretty much knew what it was when we were at an adoption meeting at B.ethany Christian Services and they mentioned it.

You knew what an embryo was? 95% of the population doesn’t know what an embryo is…

Yes, I knew what an embryo was.

Ok, that’s impressive. You must be pretty smart. (secretly doubtful he knew what an embryo was) What were your first thoughts about you and I doing embryo adoption?

(getting onto the football team on TV- the team he chose to win in a playoff draft was losing) At the point we started talking about it, we had been on hold with the adoption agency forever so I was pretty much okay with trying anything you wanted to try.

Did you have any reservations?

I worried that we would spend all the money (that we had saved/set aside), and that it wouldn’t work. 

Tell me about how it feels to know you will not be genetically related to your child.

For me, it is probably different than most people. I decided when I was about 16 that I wouldn’t have genetic children (due to a genetic condition), so I had 15+ years to come to terms with that. I think ultimately genetics don’t matter. 

What was it like to select embryos to match with?

For some people I could see where it would be tedious. We pretty much just looked at them individually and all three times (we matched) you and I agreed with who we should match with, so it was actually pretty easy. Things that were important to me were family health history, age of the mother, dad’s height, whether or not they played sports (true story- D asked NEDC if Michael Jordan had any embryos... only half joking!). 

What was it like to go through the open donation process?

It was tedious listening to that lady talk. I don’t really remember thinking that much about the other family (genetic family), and I figured you would be the one talking to them most of the time. In choosing between anonymous and open, open seemed like a more obvious choice. You have better access to health history and where your kid came from. If one day your kid wants to know where they came from, they know.

Did openness intimidate you at all? Do you think it is confusing to the child?

Not in the beginning. I never felt weird about it at all. It was fine to Facetime and send letters and pictures. Meeting face to face was a little intimidating. I got a little nervous when his genetic mom came to visit but once she was here, she was nice. I don’t think a child will be confused that we aren’t his parents. As long as you are open from the beginning, the child will see it more as an aunt/uncle vs. a parent. 

What are the benefits of embryo adoption vs. other types of adoption?

The main reason I like embryo adoption over other types of adoption is you know what happened when they were developing. You know if you drank or did drugs. So you know their full history. 

How was the protocol (appointments and medication) from your perspective?

It was an inconvenience to make sure you were home for your shots or that you were at a place you could do them. But it was 10 times worse for you than me. It made me feel bad that you had to go through all of it and I did nothing.  I imagine some guys who do the shots are stressed about that, but since you did them yourself, it wasn’t stressful to me at all. You were a lot more irritable than normal on the medication but that was to be expected so I ignored it. More than anything, it was hard to see you being sore all the time. 

Tell me about transfer day.

The first one was laid back. It wasn’t a big deal. The second one was more stressful because the first one didn’t work. The third one was pretty anxious because that was our last chance (with NEDC). If it hadn’t worked, we would have had to gone looking for other things. 

Tell me about waiting to find out if the transfers worked. What did you do to get through the wait?

I got really anxious during that time. It was worse each time, just like I already talked about. I didn’t do anything special to get through the wait. I just waited. 

Tell me your perspective on the miscarriage.

It sucked. It was sad. I worried about you more than anything. It put us right back to step one. I didn’t want to give up. It is what it is. It happens. 

Tell me your perspective once we found out we were pregnant with Baby Boy.

Once you have been through all that (the miscarriage) you don’t think about it too much. You have to wait. You don’t want to get overly excited because you know it can go wrong. You don’t want to think about it going wrong because then you get depressed. So I tried not to think about it too much so I didn’t get depressed. 

At what point did you get excited vs. not thinking about it?

I don’t know if I was ever that excited, prior to him being born. It was still hesitation. It was more getting anxious and I just wished he would just get here so we can get things started. 

What was it like on the day he was born?

I was very, very tired. It was very cold, and there were way too many people around. (I am shooting darts at him with my eyes at this point!) Ok, once I actually saw him, it actually hit me that I have a kid. That’s when it got exciting. As a dad, you can see the belly growing and you know there is a baby coming, but you don’t get that concept til the birth. 

Tell me about bonding.

From the time he was born until we had our first Facetime call with the genetic family, I literally did not think about him even being not genetically mine. From the time he was born, he was mine. 

So it doesn’t bother you that some of his characteristics don’t look like us?

I’m glad he doesn’t look like me. (both laughing) I guess a lot of people want to look at their child and think “Oh he has my nose!” but isn’t it more important that they are happy and healthy than that they look like you?

Any other advice or final words for men who may be hesitant about embryo adoption?

I think many guys may be hesitant for embryo adoption because genetics may seem more important to males than females. Like I just said, isn’t it more important to have a child to love than to be able to say they are genetically your kid? You will love them as soon as they are here. Now that he is here, I would die for him, even though he doesn’t have my DNA. I love him like my own kid because he is my own kid. 

Any other thoughts on openness?

Everyone should be open with their child. For your kids’ wellbeing you need to suck it up and tell them where they came from. 

If you can do open adoption, I would encourage that. It might be weird at times but that is what is best for them.