All who face infertility will eventually be asked, “Why try so hard/spend so much money/put yourself through so much? Why don’t you just adopt?”
I read a blog today that answers that question oh, so well. I wanted to point it out to you, dear readers, but it isn’t fair of me to just flail about and point without adding my own thoughts on why I think it’s an important read, especially before you continue reading this particular entry.
I don’t know about you, fellow infertiles, but my response to the “just adopt” question/accusation varies by day. Sometimes I snap at the questioner, and sometimes I can give a simple, “We just aren’t there yet.”
It’s complicated. From a financial standpoint, it’s complicated. From a privacy standpoint, it’s complicated. From a nature/nurture standpoint, it’s complicated. From a giving-up-on-my-body standpoint, it’s complicated.
But people don’t really get that. They see those fighting infertility as working toward an end – get a kid in the house – and see adoption as the easiest route to reach that end.
Sure, from the outside looking in – that might be the case. If you’re Angelina Jolie, that might be the case.
For so many of us, it’s horribly complicated. Adoption isn’t an easy process from any angle, and it’s incredibly frustrating for so many to minimize the fight against infertility by assuming adoption is a quick-and-easy fix, a win-win for everyone involved.
Sometimes it is; sometimes it isn’t. It’s complicated.
From the blog I linked, this sentence rings so true: Most people … never have to dissect what they want out of motherhood.
It’s easy to assume adoption is the perfect bandge to staunch infertility’s wound, but people don’t realize it isn’t a one-size-fits-all bandage. That’s because most people never have to even ponder what sort of bandage would fit them. Their bodies don’t require that bandage.
No, those aren’t beer goggles that’s causing you to see a blurry photo. The blur is because I took this pic with a pillow covering my face and my camera kinda-sorta aimed at my belly.
Yes, I’m a wuss. I’ve had months of these injections (tonight’s was Gonal F, so it’s only my second cycle with these particular injections), but I still need Rob to administer them while I hide my eyes.
The needle is tiny, it doesn’t really hurt (except for stinging medicine and the weird needle-removal feeling), and I STILL need to cover my face and be surprised with it.
After months of regular injections and blood draws, yes. I’m a wuss. And I’m proud of it. It means I’m not quite that jaded.
Edited addition: That’s my bare belly you’re seeing through the blur, NOT my bare ass. FYI.
This photo doesn’t do real-life justice. The wee object in my hand is a charm with cherry blossoms, a gift from one of my besties, Beth Anne.
Cherry blossoms are delicate flowers that bloom for only a short period of time. In Japanese culture, the cherry blossom represents how quickly but beautifully life can start and then end.
It’s a lesson I’ve learned well, first with my mom and now with my two early miscarriages.
I’m going to head to the craft store tomorrow to finish the charm off as a necklace. I think a thin ribbon in pale pink would be perfect, don’t you?
Edited addition: The charm came from Pieces Of Me Pendants.
My new love: mojito water.
I’m trying to follow a low-GI diet, so sugar and rum don’t really fit into the equation. In a moment of brilliance, I decided to throw some mint and lime into a glass of water to see if it tasted similar to my favorite beverage.
IT TOTALLY DOES.
Ladies and gentlemen, this is The Drink of Summer 2010. Write that down.
(for the curious, I tossed two mint leaves and two slices of lime into the bottom of a glass, gave it a smush with my muddle, added ice, water and a complimentary green bendy straw – voila!)
Backyard daylilly, Carolina Blue skies
Speaking of flowers, something my buddy Kelsey wrote a few weeks ago has stuck with me, and I’m thankful for that. I find myself often telling myself to be more like a flower. The nice thing is that flowers are everywhere. It’s like the world is full of Post-It notes, reminding me to just be me.
Why? Check out what Kelsey wrote. An excerpt:
Flowers just bloom.
They don’t compare themselves to other blossoms.
They don’t want for more or less petals.
They don’t wish they were another color.
They don’t feel insecure if they open more quickly or slowly than another.
They don’t feel guilty if they’re more symmetrical or tall than another bud.
Flowers just bloom.
