When I started this blog, we'd been trying to have a baby for six months, and I was desperate for any and all means of expressing my frustrations. This is where I landed, and this is where I've lived ever since. This blog has seen me through the official diagnosis, four IUIs, a surgery, a lump in my breast, my husband's unemployment, our first house, our first dog, death, and life. But not a life of ours. Not a life that belongs to us or a life we can call "son" or "daughter." Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that - two years later - I would still be here. Waiting. Wishing. Hoping. Dreaming.
The events of the last few weeks brought to the surface a lot of questions about where we've been over these past two-and-a-half years of trying to conceive and where we would like to go. Despite my desire to spend the remainder of this year not thinking about fertility treatments, the topic became unavoidable with the ruptured cyst, the two new cysts, and the stunning diagnosis of "we just don't know." To them, it's a mystery. To me, it's yet another bullet point on the list of reproductive issues I've encountered . . . so far.
It's led us to revisit the topic of IVF. When we did, I cried. What happened to me? At one point, I felt fearless and ready to attack IVF head on. And now? Nothing. There is nothing inside of my body that tells me "this is a great idea." I wish I could tell you why. But the only thing I can say with certainty is that it just doesn't feel right. I may not feel that way in 5 or 10 years - or even 5 or 10 months - but this is the way that I feel right now. And I have to be honest with myself and my husband.
The reality is that the last six months never felt like a break from treatment. It has always felt like a break up. I am the bitter and jaded girlfriend who can no longer fight for survival. The thought of continuing this relationship makes me incredibly emotional and angry. I don't want to be angry. I don't want to be continuously disappointed in what could have been. I don't want to make things work. I want to part ways. I want to drive off and say "it just wasn't meant to be," rather than constantly look over my shoulder and struggle over whether to go back. And something else has caught my eye. My heart has been wandering - particularly over the last two months. I cannot stay in this "relationship" when I've already focused my heart on something else.
So, here I am. This decision has been months in the making. We are excited. Our families are excited. We need to follow our hearts, and our hearts say that we don't need a baby made from my eggs and Joey's sperm. Carrying a child for nine months doesn't determine whether I am a mother. Yes, that's how most women dream of growing their family. But the only thing I want is a person to care for and nurture. I want to be a mom. Joey wants to be a dad. And we've decided to do this through adoption.