Letting Go

Before I met Casey, there was a time that I didn’t want biological children.

Let’s face it, I have a pretty crappy set of genes in some ways, and I became determined that I didn’t want to continue passing them down the line. I was certain that I would simply adopt at some point and that would be fine.

When Casey entered the picture, I let him know early on (so as not to have surprises later on) that I wanted to adopt children. I didn’t believe that I wanted biological children.

And then, a few months after we were married I had a pregnancy “scare”… I say “scare” because at the time, I was scared. It wasn’t in THE PLAN to have kids (biologically) or to have kids at all until we’d been married awhile. It turned out that it was a false positive or some such nonsense, as only one test was positive and the 25,000 others I took were negative. We were in the clear.

Except.

The day or so that I thought I was pregnant? I was scared, but also incredibly excited. Feelings were ignited in me that I didn’t know were possible. My fingers were on FIRE googling how to have a healthy pregnancy. Suddenly I was dreaming about what a baby that Casey and I made would look like. Would they have curly hair like me? Blue eyes like Casey? What adorable way could I tell my parents?

The same sort of feelings came about for Casey, and we started talking about trying. Casually. Like it would just sort of happen in its own time. A year after that we started talking about TRYING. Like charting and tracking and paying far more attention to my underwear than anyone should. I learned terms like TTC, BD, BFN, EOD, HPT, OPK – seriously it’s like another whole language. Thank goodness for communities of women who helped me through this- and Dr. Google, of course.

Months after that we miscarried. This is the month that I should have been having a baby.

We found out Casey has low sperm count and he ate more bananas and seeds than any human being should because it might help. Nothing. So a couple of years later, we are now in a process of grieving. We cannot afford further testings or treatment, because I no longer have insurance and Casey’s doesn’t cover it. We cannot afford private domestic adoption without going into deep, deep debt and being picked over with  fine tooth comb by an adoption agency that I’m not sure would take us due to Casey’s stroke and my chronic health disease.

A decision that is easy to make, becomes so very hard to follow through on. Our options are limited. We keep hoping for a natural miracle, but my hope is dwindling. When we eventually move to NC and get settled, we will look into adopting through their welfare system. But the baby thing? May very well not be in the cards for us. I don’t know how to reconcile with that, but I am trying to every day. I am also trying to break the silence and shame around it, because it certainly exists.

Infertility is real. It is painful. It is part of our story, and our journey. It is likely part of the journey of someone you know. Be open to hearing the stories, be gentle, and be kind with your words and judgement- we never know what someone else is going through or what they are trying to let go of.