This is a long and heavy post.
I have gone back and forth several times with whether or not to make this post. Part of me wants to post only the good, wonderful, exciting parts of the adoption process. There is another part of me that wants people to understand something of the rough emotional journey. So here goes...
Step one of the adoption process: Come to terms with all the emotions.
This is a description of some of the emotions from the manual LDS Family Services gave us.
Common Emotional Responses to Infertility and Loss
Shock:
The most common first feeling of infertility.
Denial:
“This can’t happen to me!” Denial serves a purpose. It allows the body and mind to adjust at their own pace to an event that might otherwise be overwhelming.
(I spent a lot of time in this stage. It is so hard to accept this invisible heart condition. The doctors and specialists tell me it’s there and yet they don’t know exactly what it is, why it happened, or if it will happen again. They are merely guessing that it will happen again and that the results would be disastrous. It’s like someone is trying to convince me that I am sick and yet I feel perfectly fine. How can I base such a huge life-altering decision on this? I wanted to believe it was just some freaky thing that happened by chance and I would be fine the next time.)
Isolation:
Infertility is a personal and embarrassing subject to discuss. Many infertile couples keep their problem carefully to themselves.
(No one can really understand unless they’ve been through it.)
Anger:
The reaction to loss of control and helplessness is often anger.
(I feel a huge loss of control over my life. I had a life plan, as most people do, and suddenly it’s shattered. I cope with this loss of control by trying to exert control over other things in my life…a strict schedule, obsessive cleaning, tedious organizing…)
Guilt and Unworthiness:
People try to make a cause and effect relationship between infertility and something they have done (or not done) in life. Infertile people frequently decide that they are not being blessed with a pregnancy because they are in some way unworthy. Pregnancy is being withheld as a punishment. In the LDS faith, this may be because of the great emphasis we put on families and children.
(You would not believe some of the crazy things I have thought. I’ve gone through every past mistake ever made in my life and wondered if maybe that is the reason I have been denied this blessing. At one point, I even thought about ridiculous things like not flossing or going to the dentist often enough. You can imagine the torment you could place upon yourself if you linger too long in this emotional stage.)
Depression:
Depression is a real and legitimate state of sadness, despair, lethargy, and vague symptoms of distress. When infertility is marked by an end point, such a final knowledge that pregnancy will never occur, depression gives way to grief.
Grief:
Death. Death of a lot of things. The end of the family name. Death before life…before we even know our child, because he never existed. The hardest part of this kind of death is the fact that it is the death of a dream. There are no solid memories, no pictures, no things to remember. You can’t remember your child’s blonde hair or brown eyes, or his favorite toys or the way he laughed, or the way it felt to be pregnant with him. He never existed. There is no funeral, no burial, and no grave to lay flowers on. The couple often grieves alone.
(By far the most difficult stage.)
I felt all of these things, some more than others. It is hard for me to even get used to the idea of relating to these emotions because I am not, in literal terms, “infertile.” It is so frustrating to know that I could get pregnant if I wanted to.
One thing that I finally had to realize in coping and going through all the emotional stages is that it’s not like it’s over and done with once you’ve gone through every stage. I kept telling myself I had to get over this and stop feeling sad before I would be ready to adopt. That’s not necessarily true. I will never stop feeling sad about not being able to have a baby. I kept thinking that if I could just allow myself to grieve, if I just cried enough to cry it all out, it would be gone and I could move on. I felt sorrow and grief at its worst right around the time we decided to start the paperwork. I’ve never again felt it quite at that intensity, but it’s still always there. I still have bad moments, days, or even weeks.
Also, I had to let myself feel sad and know that there was nothing wrong about that. I feel so guilty sometimes knowing that Heavenly Father wants me to be happy, He has given me so much, even saved my life and allowed me to recover and have a healthy little girl, so what excuse do I have to be sad?
The best advice that has helped me with the grief was to separate out my emotions. Being a very organized person myself, I love the idea of organizing my emotions. It’s like I have two separate shelves in my head. On one shelf, I place all the sadness, anger, frustration, etc I feel about not being able to have a baby. On the other shelf, I place all the happy, excited, anxious feelings about adoption. It sometimes seems inhumanly possible to feel so much emotion all at once, but it has helped me so much to keep them separated. I feel like it is okay to feel so sad and angry as long as I have an appropriate place to put that emotion. Once I came to this realization, it’s like the floodgates opened and I was a moody, emotional wreck there for a while. I still feel everything, I just feel like I am more in control now than I was before. I can still feel sad about not having my own children, but that has nothing to do with the way I feel about adoption. I do not feel sad or angry about adoption.
The hardest part about grieving and mourning is that there is nothing solid to mourn. There is always that little bit of hope that I would be able to have a normal pregnancy. The loss is so vague. It is comparable or even worse than dealing with death. It has been compared to grieving the loss of a soldier who is missing in action or an abducted child who is never found. It is so hard because without a funeral or any solid finality, it can feel like there is also no support system.
Because of this invisible grief over an invisible child, I feel as though no one really understands why I would even consider risking another pregnancy when the doctors have repeatedly stressed the risk to my life. Not being able to get pregnant is like grieving the death of any future biological children I may have had. I know the risks, but there is a part of me that would be willing to risk everything to have those children. Picture it this way, a mother sees her child in the street about to be hit by a truck. Would she hesitate to risk her life for that child? Would she be thinking that it would be irresponsible of her to risk her life for that child because she has other children to think about? I think it’s hard for people to see my decision in that light because there is no "real" child I would be risking my life for, just the ones I always imagined myself having.
I used to get so upset when anyone would mention adoption to me. I felt as though everyone expected us to adopt because that’s the “right” thing to do when you can’t have children of your own. I’ve had many conversations about my heart condition and that traumatic experience. When I say I’ve been told not to get pregnant again, so many people respond with something like, “Oh, well adoption is such a wonderful thing. I know so-and-so who knows so-and-so who adopted and it is just so wonderful.” Yes, I know adoption is a wonderful thing, so then I feel guilty for any reservations I have.
Adoption is a wonderful thing, but that doesn’t mean it’s what I have to do. I did not want to approach adoption with a “because I have to” attitude. I had other choices, and we had to sort through them all and it was important to me that adoption was our decision and not our last resort. The biggest thing here was gaining a testimony of adoption. I still feel like I am working on this, but it’s there. I’ve had a few, what I like to call “a-ha!” moments. I’ll share a few…
A-ha moment number one: This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’ll share it anyhow. Before I could choose adoption, I had to come to terms with choosing not to get pregnant. I was working on my family’s DVD. I was editing together video clips and photos of all the kids on my side of the family and putting it to music, when I just started to cry. Here comes the cheesy part…I realized I am not willing to risk all of life’s wonderful moments for 9 months of pregnancy or for my child to possibly have my eyes or hair color. I can still have all those moments that come with a wonderful family…I can still be a mom.
A-ha moment number two: The Proclamation to the Family. At first, I hated this thing. It was the culmination of all that the church expects of me, to be a mom, to be the best mom, to have a wonderful family reared in righteousness. These wonderful blessings of procreation have been promised to the righteous, but not to me. Can you see why I resented the Proclamation and other such quotes from the church? Well, we moved into this house and I was doing a bit of decorating. I hung a frame in the front room that just happened to hold the Proclamation. I put it there only as a placeholder with every intention of replacing the document with some adorable photo of Allary. I was having a particularly hard day when for some reason, I paused and read a bit. “The First Commandment that God gave to Adam and Eve pertained to their potential for parenthood as husband and wife. We declare that God’s commandment to multiply and replenish the earth remains in force.” I want to, dangit! “We declare the means by which mortal life is created to be divinely appointed.” Hmmmm, not to me. Why??? I’m feeling furious and yet I keep reading. “…Mothers and fathers will be held accountable before God for the discharge of these obligations.” Oh man, I am going to be in big trouble. “The family is ordained of God…. Children are entitled to birth within the bonds of matrimony, and to be reared by a father and a mother who honor marital vows with complete fidelity.” I stop here. The anger is gone and I am overwhelmed with a feeling of humility. All this time I have been focusing on the injustice I have been dealt. I know it should be my right as a woman to give birth, but what about the rights of those children born to unwed mothers? God can’t stop that from happening. He can’t take away agency and therefore those kinds of mistakes are made. But does that mean that those children are lost to Him? Of course it would be in His divine plan to create a way for those children to return to Him, and to enjoy the blessings of an eternal family sealed in the temple. Of course adoption is part of His plan.
I left the Proclamation in its frame proudly displayed in our front room.
This is not to say that I chose adoption to “save” some poor helpless child. I feel guilty when people commend us for deciding to adopt and give of ourselves in this way. I’m adopting because I want to build my eternal family and adoption fills a need on both sides for both parties involved.
This journey for us has been long and trying. I still have fears and reservations. But, I know I need to just have faith that it will work out. It is so hard not knowing when and under what circumstances we will add another child to our family.
One thing I try to remember is that there is opposition in all things. I know that God allows us to experience pain and sadness so that we may know happiness. It helps me to know that all the pain and suffering I go through, will (someday) be offset by a joy of the same intensity and proportion.
