Afraid of Tomorrow

Tomorrow we go back to the urologist to see what is causing the issues with my dear hubby. There may be no explanation for the issue.  There may be a “correctable” issue. We have ruled out most of the really bad stuff, so there is a blessing there.  There is no reason or rhyme to some things with infertility. Even if the Hubby is “repairable” I may not be.

Both broken.

And old.

Damn it!!  Why does it have to be like this?  Why didn’t anyone tell me it would be like this?  Why didn’t anyone tell me that the greatest heartbreak of my life thus far was going to be that I’d never have a family? Why must I suffer?  Why do crackheads get babies and we don’t?  Why is God so unfair?

Why is God so unfair?

That’s the question that makes me afraid of tomorrow. What will they tell us?  Will it be our only hope is the unaffordable IVF?  Will they tell me that we are too fat? (That’s bull I see really large people have kiddos, so lets not blow it off with that, I mean damn, I’m not THAT big)  Will they tell us that I’m the only one holding us back?  Will they find something bad?

I’m a worrier.  And I know God is unfair. Its all in His plan and sometimes it isn’t fair to us. Or at least it doesn’t seem to be.

I expect to be disappointed to some degree. Or maybe I’ll have a full break down.

Maybe closure is in store…. I really don’t know….

I just know I’m ready for answers even if I’m scared of what they might be.

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Blue Skies and Broken Hearts

I’m taking a few minutes on break to work out my feelings. As I try to figure out where my road is heading I look out the window and see a beautiful blue sky.  Its so pretty and so blue. My heart longs to escape my desk, and my grief and to run screaming into the wild blue yonder.   I’m tired.  Did I mention I was exhausted? Its not a physical tired so much as it is an emotional exhaustion that I’m told is the same one feels when some one dies.

Someone did die.  That someone was our dream.

But I digress.  The grief won’t last forever.  Eventually I will be distracted from this with a great life. Eventually I will heal.  Or so they tell me.

I get the song Pompeii now.  But even when I close my eyes, the pain is still there. The walls have tumbled. Its time to take the rubble and build a new dream and a new life.

I look out at the blue sky and I think about the dream that wasn’t.

I wonder if the sky is that blue out at sea…

But for now, I try to focus on work, I try to focus on the steps in life that it takes to make things happen. I try to keep from making mistakes that will cost me my job. I try to focus tasks, simple tasks, like cooking and cleaning and driving and not falling apart.

But the blue sky calls me.  The sky is so pretty and looks inviting. Oh if I had wings I’d fly Don and I to a place where we could be happy and away from this shadow of grief.

For now, I’ll just keep marching on.  Maybe God will open a door to us that we never imagined. Maybe.

Self-Awareness is Dangerous.

A deep melancholy settled across our hearts after the terrors of that foster care class had disrupted our sleep and our hearts. We are self aware enough to realize we can not emotionally or spiritually withstand the “system” and the horrors that these kids have been through.

Our self-awareness is great for the kiddos, but not so much for us.  We are simply self aware enough to know what our limitations are.  Unless God himself comes down from Heaven and changes our mind, we are where we are in this journey.

Not that our decision doesn’t break my heart. It does.  We don’t have the money to do a private adoption or the IVF protocols that it would take to get us pregnant (if its even possible then)…

We’ve always dreamed of having children. We’ve always dreamed of being parents. The end of that dream is actually in sight and we are so devastated that there is no word or string of words that could possibly encompass the feeling of an empty womb.  Or a quiet house. Or an empty heart.

If money were no option we would have other choices. As it is we have to see if there is a vague possibility of us conceiving given the dire fertility diagnosis we both received.  Basically if we are going to have a child, God will have to miracle us one. And I won’t believe its going to actually happen until I’m holding a live, healthy baby in my arms.

Maybe our hearts will change.  But the class traumatized us, and made us realize that our dreams might not be whats best if we are not emotionally equipped or prepared for a child with such serious emotional needs, or if the system will make it even worse by lying and simply being broken.

So where do we stand?  We are only going to have a family if God heals us and makes it happen.  There is ALOT God will have to do, and Im not sure I have the faith to believe it can happen after all of this. But I’m trying.

That Class Did My Heart No Favors

The first of two foster care classes did my heart no favors.  The horror stories of the trauma these foster kids have been through is enough to make you physically ill.  I was physically ill over it.

I cried and I cried on the way home.  There is NO WAY I can be a foster parent.  I cant.  I don’t have the strength or the emotional fortitude to do it.

Because of that, I feel really guilty.   I feel guilty because we have loads of love and stability and safety to offer and we can not emotionally deal with a child being placed and removed, nor can we deal with a kiddo who has serious emotional issues.

We knew this going to the class, but that gate was locked firmly when we saw the videos.  Now we are on the fence about even attempting to adopt through the system.

I’ve been told that I’m strong for even being able to acknowledge that I can’t deal with it.

I’m beginning to deal with the possibility I will never be a mom. And I feel bad because it seems like its actually something I can deal with. I feel bad that this class has sucked the whole idea that I could ever parent a kid out of my mind and replaced it with an easier, less complex life where our wants and needs are what are met and we don’t have to be responsible for a kid.  (when I put it into those words it sounds way more selfish than it is)…  But I still don’t like that idea.

So one gate is closed, and we are on the fence about the other. The class did no favors for me or my heart.

Online Support Groups From Hell

In our struggle, in this darkness, I turned to an adoption support group for ideas, support and strength.

Holy Hell. What a mistake.

These women (and a few men) are, for a lack of a better term, foaming at the mouth radicals that if you don’t agree 100% with what ever they believe, you are shark bait.

To summarize in the last two weeks I’ve been told by strangers that I’m a racist (because I don’t pay attention to color I pay attention to attitude in my daily interactions), I don’t deserve to be an adoptive parent ( because I prefer a closed adoption), I’m a horrible monster with no compassion (because I said meth-heads, crack-whores, those that abuse or neglect children don’t deserve to be parents) and a pile more lovelies that I won’t go into.  I was told that I should never have a child because I believe a child shouldn’t be left in a dangerous or neglectful situation and that reunification is a folly under those circumstances.

Those conversations didn’t go well.  Have mercy.

People have opinions and viewpoints.  To tell someone “not to judge” while you are judging them for their opinions is just dumb.  But its exactly what happened to me.

I’m at a pretty low point anyway.  This has been emotionally taxing, and very difficult to process without strangers, under the guise of support, telling me I’m a horrible person and don’t deserve to be a mom, while meth heads do.  Its like that tiny little voice in your head that tells you bad things when you are low being real. Its seeing your fears materialize on screen as people bash you for your feelings and opinions on a topic.  Any attempts to justify your feelings or viewpoints are met with a hundred more comments about how you are an idiot, part of the problem, or how God forbid you ever have children because you are a monster.  (I’m not even kidding about the hundred more comments).

I searched for weeks for an active online support group.  Now I know why many groups aren’t active and why so many have been taken down.

Its hard enough to go through this without people tearing you down.

So we trudge on, alone.  I’ve been kicked out of several groups for saying how I feel on a topic.  I don’t need this kind of negativity.  I reached out for help and got hell instead.

The preacher discussed kindness Sunday.  I wish those ladies could have been in that service. I think they needed it.

It Takes The Body A While To Catch Up

So maybe we are still being quite reserved, maybe our bodies haven’t caught up to everything changing. I don’t know.  I do know our bodies are still reacting to the last three weeks of stress and grief.

Tummy aches, wonky girl stuff, nightmares, and a general pervasive melancholy that can only be attributed to the last three weeks of grieving madness.

Its like being told your best friend is dead in a car crash.  You grieve, you cry, you go though hell for weeks then someone yells “sike”…

You can’t process it as quickly as you’d like. You keep waiting for the other shoe to fall.

You hear echos of everyone telling you there is no way you are ever going to get to adopt a baby.

Then you stand, quietly, looking out at the sky with hope in your heart and it feels like you are venturing down a road with no real promise that you will ever find your way.
That tiny ray of hope is all I have to hold on to, and I don’t really believe I will ever get to be a mom. I think its not in the cards.   Everyone keeps saying “dont get your hopes up” and I don’t. Much.

DSS will lie to us.  They will willingly set us up for a heartbreak, and we know this. This is the standard operating procedure. We don’t expect it to go well, we expect trouble at every turn.  I don’t hear of ANY stories that go smoothly. They all are harrowing accounts of hell at the hands of a broken system.  And yet here I stand, already broken and wounded, looking to take another hit to the face for no other reason than I want to have a family.  And God has made that biologically impossible. God has made it financially impossible.  So we have to go the only route left: DSS.  I have faith in God, but none in DSS.

I won’t believe God plans for me to be a mother until someone lays a baby in my arms and tells me the child is mine.