A word from our sponsor

Just in case we thought the pain was over, a quick station break this weekend reminds me that what we went through was not that long ago.

Not sure what set me off. I spent all day Sunday with two friends and their 6 month old. That could've been it. Or the fact that the last infertile blogger friend left whom I read (tho don't know personally) just found out she was pregnant. Maybe it is the plethora of happy, glowing pregnant ladies who traverse the streets of Manhattan every day, absently rubbing their bellies and glowing in their fertile way. I am not sure. Whatever the reason, I am in a funk.

I am still very, very sad that I will never be pregnant again. I am still very, very sad that J and I won't ever get to have the "he has your eyes" or "she smiles like you" conversation. I still feel the loss and pain of two failed pregnancies - when I allow myself to think about it it is almost too much to bear that I would be 7 months pregnant right now. I feel like my pregnant fairy, who watches over women and their fetuses, is on permanent vacation or perhaps got fired. All around me gestating is going on and I am empty

J doesn't want to cycle again right now. And I agree with him. And in fact that means maybe not ever, because once we get into adoption wait mode it is just wrong to cycle. I am half sad and half glad - sad because it was my last hope for pregnancy and glad because I can't imagine going through it again. I completely respect and understand his feelings and have some of them myself. I am so conflicted about it I dont even know how the hell I feel right now.

I also feel angry - and worried that if I did cycle right now it would be from some weird spite that I feel towards the fates or whatever. I would not be cycling for the right reason. I would be doing it to tell the world to fuck off - that I will not lie down and let this wash over me. Yet here I am, letting it wash over me.

I do want to be a parent, but I also wanted to experience pregnancy. I want to feel everything in life and missing out on this is a big deal to me.

Mostly I feel scared. Scared that I will feel like a parental imposter my whole life. That others won't feel I am a "real" mom. More scared that I won't feel like a real mom. It's like when i take a walk with my niece - if people stop and tell me "your daughter is so cute!" i immediately say "she's my niece" so that no one thinks i am posing. Like they care! I wonder if i will say "oh thanks, you know I didn't birth him/her" because I will feel like they are thinking that anyway. This is an awful feeling that biological parents never have to face - no one will doubt your baby is your own. What if i doubt it?

I imagine being at the playground with our kid, hiding out from the other moms because i won't want the questions. Sneaking into babies r us in the middle of the night because I don't want people to say "Oh, are you shopping for a friend?" when looking at my semi-flat stomach. Staying on the sidelines in mommy conversations because I won't feel like I had earned a place. It is ridiculous, but it is how I feel.

I am reading "Secrets of an Adoptive Mother" and crying through the entire book - it is the rawest look at adoption yet. She asks the questions that you think but never say. Will the birthmother change her mind? Why don't I love the kid yet? Will I ever love him? Will the fact that he is 10 shades darker than me mean he is rejected by whites and blacks? Will my family treat him like their flesh and blood and not like an imposter? She asks these things and it is hurtful and hard and I cry everytime I open the book. But thank god someone wrote that book instead of the happy rainbows and puppies shit that most books say. Adoption is hard and it is scary and it is lonely. And sometimes it doesn't work out well.

The worst is that my friends and family are nothing but supportive. I am the one with doubts. Everyone else seems so sure that we will love the baby unconditionally from the moment we see it. That we will never look back. That we will never miss having our own biological child. That I will get over what happened and move on. I am the one who doubts these things. And that is a very lonely place to be.