When Mourning Comes

I've got that uneasy feeling again. It tends to show up when least expected.

I found out from Chris upon returning from my weekend with family that he has to have his fingerprints redone for our foster parent certification. They must have gotten lost, the licensing worker has informed us -- it's been two months since we had them done and a month since our paperwork should have gone to the state for approval. What the heck??!??!? Did it really take two months to figure this out??? And how did they get lost anyway??? We literally got them done 2 minutes apart, and somehow mine showed up within days at our licensing worker's office, and Chris' never arrived, yet no one thought to check into this until we basically forced the issue. GEEEZZZZ!!!!!!

I realize it's not such a big deal for Chris to go downtown and be fingerprinted again, but it's just ONE MORE THING in an ever-growing mountain of delays to parenthood. Couldn't we get a break just once? After two miscarriages and a hellacious adoption wait that may turn into YEARS, couldn't this foster parent licensing process at least go smoothly? Furthermore, isn't it absolutely absurd that we've been approved by the federal goverment to adopt internationally, but we have to wait on the state to approve us to foster? We've already been fingerprinted by the FBI - one would think that would suffice! And to think that there could be a child coming into foster care right now that needs a home, which we could provide, but likely won't be able to do so for another month or more....I'm feeling like I want to say some bad words, which I rarely do publicly, so it's a pretty good indication of the unhappy state I'm in right now. !@#!$#$%#%@#!%!@#%!#$%!!!!!!!!!!

OK, I feel a little better. Sorry for the rant, but sometimes you gotta do it.

Tonight I visited some infertility blogs. I'm not even sure how I started finding them, but once you discover the first one, it's like uncovering an ant hill. I'm sorry to say they're everywhere - so many childless people who long to be parents, just like us, some of whom are adopting, others of whom are doing everything under the sun to try to get pregnant. It really helps to have a sense of community, albeit with people you don't know and probably will never meet - just reading about similar experiences and feelings helps. No one has diagnosed me as the "i" word, but at this point I'm not sure the grieving process would be much different.

I have an appointment with a reproductive endocrinologist next month. I feel good about the doctor, who was recommended by a friend who is the same kind of doctor in another state, but I don't feel very good about trying to figure out what has gone wrong with my pregnancies/what could go wrong in the future. Everything I've read emphasizes how little is known about miscarriage and that testing may not reveal anything at all. So why am I doing it? I guess it just feels like the right thing to do.

Based on recent conversations, it seems some -perhaps many- people who know us don't understand why we're not trying to conceive again with the way the adoption timeline keeps growing. After all, the "one year between kids" rule probably wouldn't be an issue at this point. We have our reasons for waiting - fear of more loss being one. And really, isn't that enough? I've read about people who have had more miscarriages than me and are still trying. I just can't imagine. I guess they are stronger than I am. At least we know with some degree of certainty that we're well on our way to parenthood, even if it's taking longer than expected, and even if every month that goes by triggers more feelings of loss.

Yes, there is sadness - for empty picture frames and emptier arms. There is also enormous hope and profound love for our children-to-be. Our faith waivers at times like these, but it's always there.

Despite my sadness, I know how lucky I am on so many levels. I spent this past weekend with my precious nephews and nieces - playing and laughing with them, holding and hugging them, wiping away tears. I am grateful for the time I've had with them as Aunt Kat - not yet mama to anyone. I've been able to open my whole heart to them, even sharing in unexpected moments of tender sorrow. One such instance happened yesterday:

Ben wanted to go to the park with his cousins, but he didn't want to leave his dad to go, and that was the only option. To an adult, this would be a simple, routine choice, but not to a child. I could see how much pain he was in - after all, he has a brand new sister that has turned his world upside down, and he is very attached to his parents - the tears welled up in me. I don't know what I would have done had I been the parent. Mark, Ben's dad, made the difficult, but very wise decision to make him go - to suffer a little while so he could learn that everything would be OK, fun actually. Ben stopped crying pretty soon after my sister Rachel drove away, and he had an absolute blast at the park.

Children remind you that life is full of hurts, but pretty soon the sun comes out and there is joy again.