Hi, everyone! I'm Katie, and I've been blogging in this space for about 5.5 years now. Sometimes it's hard to believe that I have anything left to say after that long, but somehow I do. I'm a 28-year-old archivist living in Central Florida with my husband, Joey, 10.5-month-old daughter (K), and miniature dachshund (Danica). You can read more about my journey on the "my story" and "timeline" pages at the top of my blog, but my story can pretty much be summed up in these few sentences:
1. My lady parts don't know how to work.
2. We tried infertility treatments. They didn't work, either.
3. In late 2011, we became home study approved to adopt domestically.
4. On July 2, 2012, we became parents to K via open adoption.
My blog is sort of all over the places these days. I blog a lot about infertility and advocacy efforts, both mine and others. I write occasionally about K, though not often since I don't want to upset anyone reading who is still in the trenches. I try to write about family, but since I've blogged publicly for quite some time, there is only so much I feel comfortable sharing with my name and face attached to this place.
I'm not too sure where that leaves me. I've been in limbo for quite a while, and I haven't exactly grasped how to move forward from this limbo. It's a strange place to be. On one hand, parenting to me has become normal. Everyday. Comfortable. Make no mistake: I still look around sometimes I wonder how we got to this place after so much struggle. Mother's Day was particularly strange for me. I felt like an poser, a fake - not because my child was adopted, but because I spent so much time ignoring that day, I couldn't believe that I was finally the person being celebrated.
On the other hand, I'm still very much "in" infertility. I think part of me always will be. I, of course, still have friends dealing with treatments or waiting to adopt. But more than that, I still strive to be involved. "Never forget where you came from." That's the philosophy I've been embracing. Still, it can be challenging to balance the two, particularly in this space. I hope that I do a decent job in tackling this.
That said, I feel very fortunate to be on the other side of infertility after four years of enduring the pain and suffering that comes with waiting. Parenting has its own struggles. There are days that require an extra Xanax and two glasses of wine instead of one. Despite this, I know that every day is a gift, and there will always be a tomorrow, a new day to look forward to. And believe me: I remember there being no tomorrow to look forward to.
That's pretty much it: me and where I am - where this blog is - in a nutshell. Regardless of where the future takes me, I will still keep plugging away in this space. It's not only a reminder of where I've been, but it's a reminder of what I've become. And it's my child's story: from wishing and hoping for her, to finally holding her in my arms. It's from IF (infertility) to when . . . and beyond.