Talk About Your All Time Backfires

At some point in late February while still delayed in this IVF cycle by the Whore-bag Cyst, I began to feel a little restless. So I made the decision to look into the Foster Adoption program within our county. I signed us up for the April 5^th Orientation which was less than five miles away from our home. Since at that point I had no idea how long we would be delayed by the cyst, or if we would even be able to move forward with this attempt, I felt really good about taking the first step toward something we’d been discussing for a while anyway.  And in the days leading up to this meeting I continued to look forward to getting more information on what might be our path to parenthood. But this is where I have to make a confession. Though I had drafted a post about this, I never made it far enough to actually get the guts to publish it... 


Umm, IVF is fucking hard. And I don’t know if I ever want to do it again. Aside from hoping for the reason I’ll never have to do it again – I seriously don’t know if I want to. And yes, I know it’s early and I could change my mind. And that’s fine. But as of now, I can’t say it’ll be my first choice in moving towards being parents. The ‘feeling like a pincushion’ cliché could not be a bigger understatement, my stomach is black and blue from the heparin shots, my ass is KILLING me from the PIO shots, I’ve missed a lot of work due to monitoring appointments and recovery and acupuncture. Doing three shots a day takes up a good hour of my time, drawing up the meds,  icing before and after the Heparin, applying pressure. Heating whichever given side of my ass in prep for the PIO shot, laying there while Brian massages the injection site, then walking around after, then sitting with the heating pad again… Granted my cycle lasted a little longer than most - an extra two and a half months to be exact - and I’m not saying that all this won’t have been worth it if we wind up with a baby at the end, but damn it it’s fucking hard. I really don’t know how so many of you have done multiple cycles. I mean, I do. But…. If I feel like I deserve a fucking metal for all this, you guys deserve like, royal titles, and towns named after you. Cause, shit. This was really hard.  And all of that made one more giant reason why I was looking forward to the orientation for Foster Adoption.

We arrived promptly at 7pm, and by the time the County Worker got started there were two other couples, what appeared to be a single guy – I’m fairly certain he was a cop. And one woman, who was married but her husband was at home looking after their daughter. We signed in and grabbed a packet and began listening closely as the County Worker started her Power Point presentation.  I can’t remember what precisely changed for me, but all of about 15 minutes in I felt a noticeable shift in my comfort level. Substantial enough that I scribbled a sentence on the outside of the envelope packet and pushed it toward Brian.

“I’m not ready for this.”

We glanced at each other, but slowly gave our attention back to the County Worker. Well maybe Brian did, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. It felt so surreal, at some point I felt like I was watching myself from outside of my body knowing I was about to have a breakdown. I’m very aware of the fact that childrens circumstances in Foster Programs aren’t the same as kids in standard adoption facilities. These are not all infants with unwed, or incapable mothers – these kids have been removed from their homes. Due to abuse and/or neglect. Occasionally there is a Voluntary Surrender, where the parent(s) concedes that they just can’t care for their child(ren). But it’s less than 1% of the time in our county. I don’t know if it was the fact that she had to describe all the different types and severity as well as what exactly constitutes abuse or neglect, or if it was her emphasis on the fact that the County’s main goal is Reunification with the Biological Family. But it all just became too much. And I suddenly found the tears falling down my face faster than I could catch them. I discretely excused myself to the bathroom, and did my best to pull myself together. But the moment I sat back down in my chair I started to lose it again. Brian made a quick scribble, and pushed the envelope back to me. “Just go, I’ll take care of it”. It took me another minute to get the courage to walk out, but thank god we just happened to be sitting right next to the exit. I don’t know what Brian said to the room or the County Worker, but I’m sure they figured out that I wasn’t just bored. I got about three steps from the door and the second I heard it click I began to sob. I’m just not ready for that. I thought that I would just go and be proactive, and get some information. But holy crap, I’m not ready.

And I’m suddenly reminded of how little control we have over all of this. And just how very open-ended things are for us at this moment in time.

T minus four days until Beta.