Letting the cat out of the bag

My husband and I found out late this summer that we cannot have children. Until yesterday, it was sort of semi-private information. My parents have known for a while, but other than that and telling a very few close friends, not many others knew. I think I sort of let it slip once online, but that's it. This is one big reason why I have backed off with my blogging somewhat. It's a huge part of what is on my mind, and I was afraid of saying too much too soon.

Until yesterday, my husband's family didn't even know. I was waiting for him to be ready to tell them, since they're his family and all. It took him a lot longer to process this than it did me, since after two years of infertility, I had already begun to prepare myself for this possibility. Anyway, I didn't want to really talk about it too much until all the close family members knew. That's not really knowledge you want to get around to them in a round about way, you know? Plus, they live very far away and this is difficult information to share over the phone. Unfortunately, we're not sure when we will be able to visit them. (I'm skeered of flying, you know!)

But yesterday he told them, and now it's out in the open and we're ready to share that we're very, very close to starting the adoption process. We have been considering a lot of options over the past few months and so far, the ones that seem most attractive to us are a local foster to adopt program through Lutheran Services (yes, we're one of those horrible couples that want an infant for our first child and they SAY they have many infants adopted through that program, so we'll see), a program through an agency in our state that adopts African American multi-ethnic babies (sadly, not many people want them, and I simply do.not.get.that.), and an international adoption from S. Korea. My husband spent a year there while he was in the military and is familiar with their culture and would love to go back and visit someday. He says they have really good food and you have not lived until you have eaten their spicy bulgoki and yakimandu. *giggle*

This has, without a doubt, been the most frustrating and hardest year of my life. Never before have I experienced so much heartache and pain. Infertility is hard enough, but finding out that the infertility is permanent is not something that is easily accepted. I feel like a very vital part of my being has been ripped from me... that a part of the reason I exist has died. I've been accused of being bitter and angry, and I freely admit that heck YES I am angry and bitter. But at least I am humble enough to realize that those are very valid emotions, and I accept them and continue to work through them. I don't know anyone that is strong enough or holy enough to go through what we've been through and still be able to keep their happiness and joy 24/7. Being a Christian does not exclude me from feeling real emotions. I'm okay with that, and I thank God He is too. All the accusers can think badly of me if they want - their opinions simply do not matter to me. Or to God. I'm so glad my God is a God of grace and patience. Have you met Him? *grin*

So, anyway. There you have it. If you don't know the reason why, that's because we haven't told you and probably never will, so please do not ask. :) Feel free, however, to ask about our new journey as we begin it. I'm sure it will be long and frustrating, terrifying and wonderful (not to mention one of the most expensive commitments we will have ever made) and I know I'll need a lot of support during that time. I've found some amazing people that have been there, done that, who will hopefully prove to be a rich source of information for us.

It's hard. It sucks. It's something no one can fully prepare for. But it's ours and as such, we have begun to learn to accept it. We are surviving, and our marriage is strong (for which we are extremely thankful since many do not make it through this kind of hardship). We are ready to move on to the next phase in our lives. I'm hopeful that by this time next year we might just be parents, or at least close to it. Who cares that the child will not come from my womb?

I'm okay with that, and I will still be just as much of a mother as anyone else. Without a doubt, whatever child we adopt will know that he or she was much wanted and loved for years before it was even born. Sounds nice a nice way to enter the world, doesn't it? *grin*