We are relieved to inform you that no, The Adoption League did not burst into our home and handcuff us to a baby. So no, we didn’t “have to” adopt.
OH!…….now I get it. You want to know about my uterus and Martin’s sperm! Okay, that’s a different question. You want the nitty gritty.
I am pretty adamant that our adoption story shouldn’t be our infertility story. The child we will have someday is not a Plan B. They are The Plan. That’s a very important fact for us.
That said there is a natural curiosity, and that’s okay. Here’s how we got to where we are now:
Yes, we had difficulties getting pregnant and were on fertility treatments for a few years. The highlights:
- I have run up Bay Street, in heels, in the winter, with a sample jar of Martin’s boys tucked into my bra, to make it to the fertility clinic in time for an IUI procedure.
- I’ve watched my uterus and fallopian tubes be inflated on ultrasound.
- Daily early morning blood tests and ultrasounds (at last count, over 130 times). Not as fun as you might think. Especially since the ultrasounds are of the “up-the-wazoo” variety.
- Injecting hormones into my abdomen which had the following effects:
- A bruised stomach that looked like I’d done a match with Mike Tyson
- A hormonal cyst on my face that had to be surgically removed. It was there for seven months. I called it Uncle Fester and charged rent.
- The moods*.
*For all those reading who were colleagues during this time, I am truly sorry for the number of fits, irrational decision, and ugly cries, you endured. I was a walking estrogen-fueled HR nightmare.
Oh, and I once grabbed a needle from a nervous fertility nurse, pulled off the cap with my teeth, alcohol swabbed the site, and did my own belly injection – all without putting down my handbag.
By this time, our doctor was strongly steering us towards IVF as the next step, should our third IUI fail. She felt I was a good candidate, given my age and excellent health.
So what happened? Martin and I have always been connected in a truly strong and unique way. I could not ask for a more supportive partner. When it came time to start the third IUI, well, we just looked at each other and, it was like, enough.
We choose to adopt.
To be clear, it wasn’t the side effects that changed our decision. Trust me; I would crawl over broken glass to get to our child. Nor do we see adoption as an act of charity, or saving a child. We aren’t the heroes in this and this journey is less about us than it is about our child.
It was a realization that this just wasn’t the way to grow our family. Nothing about it felt right. We needed a U-Turn. Yes, we could’ve continued with more advanced treatments. But that would’ve meant missing out on a chance to do what we felt was the best decision for us and our family.
Adoption can be a minefield, and this is just one post.
Still, I know the why question is always out there, so I wanted to face it head on. The needles, creams, calendars, and chemistry, have been shipped off.
As I like to think of it, we’ve changed gates at the airport.