The Write Way

Two Little Words

So I started this blog as a way to put my thoughts down and as a way to free myself from what I sometimes am ashamed to admit. It's strange because intellectually I know it's nothing to be ashamed of, but socially... well that's a different story.

When you have children and for me a daughter especially, you dream of all of the things the two of you will share - shopping together, having a girls day out, watching her as she discovers boys, helping her pick out the hair style she likes best, those kinds of things.

Well, my relationship with my daughter hasn't always been what I had hoped. I've always believed that there was some sort of trauma in my baby's life and some heredity that has caused her to have some real difficulty. And even as I write about it now, it's hard to actually type the words.

Truthfully, part of it is that I believe that my daughter, even at her age, has a right to her privacy. But in part it's because I just don't know how people will react. In the African American community, seeking counseling for whatever the reason isn't done often. We just don't believe that it's necessary, that's something other folks do. I hope that eventually I'll find the courage to really address it, even in this blog, in hopes of helping someone else find a way to deal with a child with challenges.

I've had to learn to alter my expectations of what my relationship with my daughter will be like. And I'm learning that different is OK.  She can be delightful at times and I am learning to just embrace those times and to be there for her when she's having a rough go of it. She's still young and my prayer is that eventually, she might get over the hump. My mother is convinced that by middle school she will be just fine - that God will make it alright. And while I believe that God can do anything, I want to be sure that I am prepared for the reality that He may decide to leave things as they are.

I am also learning to be grateful for her challenges. Not grateful in the way you might think, but grateful for what it has taught me and for the fact that I have been blessed with the opportunity to be the mommy that will help her with those challenges. It's taught me how to pray even the more. And I can truly say I know what it means to really put the needs of someone else before my own.

So bare with me. I am working on getting up the courage to use two words in my writing as it relates to my daughter. Two very powerful words that while I have been able to say them in my head and even use them out loud once or twice, writing them seems to be a lot harder for me. For now though, when you say a prayer, say one for my daughter and for her mommy and daddy and brother. We are all impacted by her disability and we are all the better for it. 

Biology is Just a Science Term

When I actually realized that my hunch all along was correct, I was relieved -  but not for the reason you might think. I felt as though I was vindicated in my decision not to focus on getting pregnant. After my first major surgery, my doctor said I had a small window of opportunity to try and get pregnant. He recommended that we start trying to get pregnant as soon as I was feeling 100%. Instead of taking that advice, I immediately asked for a prescription for birth control. Remember, my son was already about 8 months old by this time. When I told my doctor that I had decided not to try getting pregnant he asked why. I told him that I had given it a full year and that was it. His response? "In the condition you were in, there was no way you would have gotten pregnant."

Still, I didn't want to take the risk. And yes, for me, it felt like a risk. I've watched friends obsess over getting pregnant. They've been poked, prodded and injected and still, nothing. Some have even gone as far as to think that perhaps God just didn't want them to be a mother.  I didn't want to get to get wrapped up in that.

I watched a show once about a woman who had been through five in-vitro treatments.  Before the last treatment, doctors isolated the problem she seemed to have. There was some sort of problem with the lining of the wall in the egg she produced each month. She had a friend who agreed to take medication that would induce the production of more than the one egg a month women normally produce. Those eggs were removed from the friend, fertilized by the woman's husband and then implanted in her.

As I watched, I found myself almost rooting for her for this to work. It meant so much to her. But after a few weeks blood test results came back negative. She was devastated. And then I realized that like so many, she had become wrapped up into the whole pregnancy process instead of focusing on the parenting. Think about it. If this process had worked, technically, this child would not have been hers. Remember, she used the eggs produced by a friend. I don't want to ever belittle the bond that mother and child form during pregnancy - but pregnancy lasts for nine months, parenting lasts a lifetime.

With all of the children in need of a home, I wish more couples would not think of adoption as a final choice when all else fails. Honestly, I have found my infertility liberating. It just gave me more of an open mind to explore other possibilities.  I didn't want to get so wrapped up in trying to get pregnant that I lost sight of the opportunity to be a mommy. I have a friend who spent more than 8 years trying to get pregnant. Every time she had a procedure, she would tell herself that if it didn't work, it would be the last.  By now, she could have been a mom many times over. She and her husband just recently began as foster parents.

I am not denying anyone's right to try everything they can to get pregnant. I just hope that while they are trying, they remember that there are children waiting, just in case things don't work out the way they planned. Remember biology is just a term in science class. It has nothing to do with a mother's ability to love her child, even if that child is adopted. Take it from one who knows. I couldn't love my children anymore if I tried.

Oh, and by the way, standing my ground about trying to get pregnant was definitely the right choice. The fibroids and endometriosis returned. I had a partial hysterectomy at 29, and I couldn't be happier.