Losing Hope, Finding ...

Disclaimer:  Over the past several months I have tweeted and posted Facebook statuses about the joy of not having children.  As expected some found my posts insensitive and rude, while others found them funny and refreshing.  In either case, I always intended to tell the whole story, so today is the first part of that.  I want it known that Heather and I don't hate children and anyone who has been around us with their kids in the last year can testify to that fact.  Enjoy and I would love your feedback.  

Part 1

Losing “Hope”

It’s Christmastime.  How do I know?  Well, it’s December 23^rd for one.  I’m sitting in a Starbucks and so far, there have been 10 last minute shoppers who have scrambled in for their caffeine fix before braving the jewelry store, toy factory, or electronics playground for that one thing they forgot their loved one just had to have.   One guy proudly proclaimed, “I’m done!” after he found his last minute stocking stuffer right here in Starbucks.  What a lucky gal she is…unwrapping a mug and a pound of coffee.  It works, I guess.

The real reason I know it is Christmastime, however, is the kids.  Walking through the mall will show you what this holiday has really become all about.  Santa is waiting for a never-ending line of children to sit upon his knee telling them exactly which new Furby or Transformer they want him to bring.  Parents help their children decorate houses with the latest Disney Princess inflatable or Despicable Me ornaments to make their home more festive for the holidays. 

There are recitals and concerts where parents, grandparents, family and friends all gather, in order to hear and see their favorite five year old play the “STAR of Bethlehem.”   The list goes on and on, from cartoon Christmas specials, messy cookie decorating and the big reveal itself when the child opens package after package of exactly what they wanted.  Christmas is a holiday for the young, and the young at heart to be sure. 

Yet, in our house there is none of that.  Heather and I don’t have a child to set on Santa’s knee.  We don’t have a princess to adorn with the latest Disney footed PJs, or a strapping lad to awaken with the next Thor action figure.  We bake cookies primarily in batches big enough for two, and our biggest tradition is going to the movies on Christmas Day.  This year, I think American Hustle or Saving Mr. Banks is on the agenda.

You see, for the past 10+ years, Heather and I have struggled with infertility.  What makes it worse is that after all the testing, countless doctors appointments and treatments our infertility is unexplained.  In other words, the people who are supposed to be able to tell us why, can’t.  Apparently, this is true for 1 in 3 infertile couples.     

When we started trying to have children, we were approaching 30 years of age.  After the first year, we decided to get tested and the doctors couldn’t find any problems.  We continued trying until Heather learned she would deploy the first time.   At that point, we also put paperwork and money into an adoption from China.  We were told it would be approximately 18 months.  That was in 2006. 

When Heather returned from deployment #1, we continued to wait for the Chinese adoption to go through, but were told the timeline was expanding.  Now the wait time was up to 2 ½ to 3 years and would expand further.  We continued to hold out hope, while at the same time trying to conceive again.  We had more testing done, went through a couple of procedures, still without any luck or “little blessing” depending on to whom you are talking. 

Then in 2009, after learning that Heather would once again deploy we stopped trying again.  The Chinese adoption was now at a wait time of 4 to 5 years, and we were seriously thinking about removing ourselves from the list.  Yet, through the deployment we went.  Thinking that 2010 would be different. 

It wasn’t.  We tried even more methods such as ovulation tests, tracking her temperature and whatever the latest techniques and methods Google had to help those of us seriously wanting a child.  At 36 years old and facing another 2 moves within the next two years, we were confused, angry and horrified at the prospect that children were not going to be a part of our life. 

Let me pause here and say that the emotional gambit you run through during an experience like this is insane.  For the first year or two there is confusion.  At 30 years old, most of your friends are have already had or are having their children.  What’s wrong with us?  What are we doing wrong?  Are we not “practicing’ enough.  (That wasn’t the problem!)  As Christians, we wonder if we are somehow not good enough in God’s eyes to be parents.  Is there some sin that is preventing us from receiving His blessing? (Serious Southern Baptist theology there.)  Is the drug riddled girl somehow more capable of carrying and caring for a child than us? 

As the years go on, confusion turns to sadness.  On that simple day, once a month, that reveals that you certainly are not pregnant there are tears.  Tears that prevent you from falling back to sleep.   Tears that make you question your own worth.  Tears that sting as they roll off of your face and onto the belly that remains barren.  On my side of the bed that sadness bring anger.  Each and every month I went through at least a 24-hour period where I was mad at God, and at myself for not giving Heather the one thing she desires.  When I see the mothers and fathers out there in the world, surely we are at least as qualified as them.   GOD, WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO US!!!

Ok, back to the story.  In 2011 we moved once again and decided to go to one more doctor.  Now 37 years old, we were told plainly that we would need more help than anything we had tried before.  The doctor still couldn’t tell us why we haven’t been able to have children, but he said that clearly there was a reason, and that outside help was the only way to go.  We left the doctors feeling confused and dejected, but still held out some hope that we would have children. 

Heather was now at a point where she was unsure about wanting to be pregnant.  She was older now and her career was in a great place.  We talked more and more about adoption, which was something I had always felt would be a great way to build our family.  I contacted the Adoption Agency who was handling our paperwork for China, and was told that the wait time was still increasing and could be up to 8 years now.  At this point, we were just pissed off.  What started as an 18-month journey was now going to be 8 years.  I was prepared for that at 33, but at 38…not so much.  Something had to change.  We made the very difficult decision to stop the process for the Chinese adoption.  That was not a good day for me. 

Heather and I then discussed the possibility of older child adoption.  Would be willing an able to take an older child into our home and give it the type of love and stability he or she needs?  After a move to Virginia, we visited three adoption agency all involved in finding homes for both infants and older children.  We came away from each meeting more discouraged and dejected.  The number of infants coming through the system had been drastically reduced and it couldn’t support demand.  (I think that is probably a good thing.)  We were told, and after thinking about it I agree, that the military life is difficult and could cause more problems for older children who have been without stability.  They need to stay in one place, make permanent friends, and have structure.  At this time in our lives, we are still moving around a lot.  That isn’t conducive. 

But the biggest discouragement to Heather and I was the cost.  I have heard it said that it is illegal to buy or sell a baby in the United States, but let me tell you.  If you want a healthy infant in this country you will pay at least $25000.  These are all under the guise of fees, taxes, lawyers, court costs and doctors bills, but $25000 is a lot of money, so if you don’t think you are buying a child, then think again.   I have heard social worker after social worker, and adoption agent after adoption agent tell me that there are too many kids in the system…well this is why.  Caring, loving people, who would make wonderful parents to the children in need simply can’t afford the cost.  It’s shameful!!!  (you don’t have to write me about all the ways there are to defray costs.  I know…most of them don’t apply to us.)

So there we are…in March of 2013 with no prospects of having children.  Heather and I were in the car, holding hands, and I said, “Well I guess that’s it.  I think I am ok with not having children.”  At 39 years of age, I never wanted to start a family this late anyway.  She reacted like the great wife that she is and just gave me a little smile.  I could tell that she wasn’t completely convinced.  After all, how do you want something so bad, for so long, and then just come to terms with never having it?  That really is the question isn’t it?

It’s hard.  There really is no question about it.  Why is it hard?  Well the biggest reason is because while you are spending time coming to grips with the fact that you are not going to be a mother and a father, your friends are becoming mothers and fathers all around you.  When we moved to Virginia three of our friends (2 of which live here) announced they were pregnant.   Only one of these friends had not previously had children. 

And Facebook has become an announcing platform for the world.  I have lost count of the number of pregnancies friends announced this year alone, but I can tell you that with each one, Heather and I pause, wonder if we are really through trying, and then move on with our day as best we can.  The hardest part is writing “Congrats” in the comment section.  We love you!  We are happy for you!  It is still hard to type “congrats,” when the evil side of my brain is screaming, “you suck!”

Still, we suck it up.  We buy gifts, and make dinners, and provide support however we can.  We visit new mothers in the hospital.  Heather attends showers!  I don’t, showers are for girls.  We look at endless pictures on Facebook and on your phones.  We put your Christmas cards on our fridge every year.  We track your children and how they have grown because we love you, and we love them.  It’s what we do.  We love, because we understand that while we don’t have children, yours are a gift, and a treasure not just to you, but also to everyone that cares about you.  

There is still a bitterness though.  Something in the pit of our stomachs that feels jealousy.  There are moments when we look at your sonograms and wish your babies would come out with three heads and dragon’s tail.  There are times when we get your annual Christmas cards and want to tear them up instead of putting them on the fridge.  We don’t, but we certainly have that moment.

It is in those moments when we are weak.  We are still perplexed by the idea that we are somehow not good enough.  Heather wouldn’t be a good mom.  I wouldn’t be a good dad.  Together we would be terrible parents.  It is in those moments that we figure we are being punished for something we don’t know about or can’t understand.  It is in the those moments where we struggle with a life with no legacy, with no one to care for us when we are old, with no one to be there to say goodbye when we are gone.   It is in those moments where simply and sadly, we have lost hope. 

…to be continued.