These problems are real, and you can't turn off real life. So I won't try.
~Sean Covey, The 7 Habits Of Highly Effective Teens

Looking back on everything that has "gone down" recently, it is hard to believe that it has been less than a month. So much has changed in our lives, and yet everything is the same. We live in a fast-paced world, where decisions are made, and plans carried through before minds can be changed. We eat microwave meals, and buy instant pudding. Three years ago, we decided to get a dog, and that evening we owned our first puppy, Clyde. We said we needed to decorate the living room, and two days later, we had furniture, and decorations. I do realize that I am very blessed to be able to live my life like that.

The past month has been a strain on me, because nothing in this process is instant. After a week of non-stop research, planing, dreaming and talking, we had our first face-to-face meeting with our social worker. We turned in our full 70 page application, complete with sticky notes where we had questions. We had intelligent, educated questions to ask. We dressed the part of the young professionals, ready to make a serious change in their lives. Even with all the preparation, we do not feel that we were taken seriously. We were discouraged by the social worker, and made to feel like selfish people because we voiced some concerns that we had. The questions that we asked, she seemed to think were stupid, and were dismissed. We went into the meeting trying to curb our excitement, and to not seem to eager. We left the meeting feeling deflated and discouraged.

Nothing seemed to be as we expected it to be. From what we could gather, everything was about the parents, and the children were just a little part of the puzzle. It was as if we were expected to be excited about the monthly stipend we would receive, and should have been encouraged that there 'would be some left over every month because you rarely use all of it'. We were discouraged from making a nursery in our home, and told more than once that 'the kid can sleep in a pack and play for up to two weeks'. We were also shot down early in the meeting with the statement that "this is not an adoption program, but a reunification program". While, yes, I agree that every family deserves the change to be put back together, I have also seen many instances of adoption, and through that same program. I had been in communication with this person for almost two weeks, and she fully knew our wants/ needs going into this meeting. For her to suddenly change the game plan on us, and to approach us as she did was a complete turn off for us.

We had planned to visit BabiesRUs on the way home, so we went through with the visit. We ended up walking the aisles with uninterested eyes. I tried to play the part I thought that Cam was expecting from me, and I could tell he was doing the same, but the rows of baby baths, toys, cribs, etc. was only a reminder that life is not fair, and that my dream was once again being pulled just out of my reach. The highlight of the visit was the ninja Turtle aisle, where Cam was momentarily distracted by his favorite childhood toys. The roller coaster ride of the past weeks (and years) had taken it's toll. I was ready to give up on the whole thing. Out of frustration, and the fear of more hurt, I started to plan a life without kids. In my head, we were traveling the world, without a care. We were successful, and got all the sleep we wanted. I know that, had I kept thinking like that, I would have managed to trick myself into some semblance of happiness in this "other dimension", this life of compromise that is as close to good as we could get.

My dear Cameron, who never fails to amaze me, was the first one to voice his thoughts. He told me of his disappointment, and how he had hoped that our meeting would cement our decision. he said that he had prayed that if we were to do this that the doors would be open, and that we would know without any doubt that this was the right thing for our lives. He admitted that he was sad and frustrated, but that he now had hope. He was now able to come to grips with an option that he had been trying to avoid. (Now, this seems like a very quick decision, but keep in mind that we have been dealing with infertility for the past two years)He said that "if I am willing to take in a child who is a stranger to me, and to take on the problems of another family, why am I not willing to have a child that is at least half 'us'? If we use a Cryo Bank, and "buy a baby" that child would at least be half you. I would still get to see Kindergartner Jessie"
Cameron often calls me "kindergartner Jessie" when I do something silly, or I am in my half-awake state early in the mornings. At first, I was not sure how to take this. He says, "there she is" and laughs. Kindergartner Jessie is, in his mind, what our little girl might look and act like. When I finally saw this, I embraced Kindergartner Jessie for what she is in his mind, and now, she is our combined dream of what might be.

I was told to get an appointment immediately, and to get the process started. I have done some research, and I am now more educated, but the appointment still has not been made. For some reason I keep putting it off. As much as I truly do want a baby, I am not sure if I can take another set-back. Somehow in my mind I think, if I never make that appointment, I will never have to deal with another heart ache, and everything will work it's self out. I find myself slipping back into that worm hole that takes me to the alternate reality where we don't need or want kids. I stuff my emotions in a jar and hide them away. I push my needs back, and justify that with busy schedules, and forgetfulness. This self-sacrificing sabotage can't last long, and I know that I will have to come to grips with my reality, and make things happen for myself.

What a wee little part of a person's life are his acts and his words! His real life is led in his head, and is known to none but himself
~Mark Twain

I am struggling with words right now.
This week we found out for sure that we are not able to have kids of our own. We were told that the risk of syndrome x, multiple miscarriages, or other complications were so severe, that we should approach having kids with our "eyes wide open". IVF is our only current option for having our own biological kids. When they told me that they would create multiple babies in a lab, and then test them when they were a week old, and decide which one is healthy, and dispose of the other ones; my heart sank. If I truly believe that life is sacred, and that a baby is a life from conception, how could I be selfish enough to play God and force myself to have the baby I want?

I have felt for a long time that I would be a mommy of a child that is not my own. Cameron however, has not had that same calling. Well, after we found this out we sat down and talked through everything, and we decided to proceed with being foster parents. We are in the process of getting that rolling. We are both really scared, as most people are with the thought of adding a child to their home. I know that with my heart that bonds with others so quickly, I will have huge emotional roller coaster rides. HOWEVER, I would rather have my heart broken and have the experience of loving a child, and being a mom, even if for a few moths at a time, than to never know what that feels like.

Right now, we are in the limbo period between making the decision to be foster parents, and actually getting all the information, and starting the training. I am as nervous as (...input your favorite "as nervous as" saying here) The planner and control freak in me is needing information, and a "road map" to get us started. I have read so much information that I am sure I could pass almost any test they put in front of me. Part of me says "Lets DO This Thing!!" and the other part wants to run and hide in the closet and forget that this past week even happened. I keep going from excited and nervous, to sad and depressed, and back again. I am trying really hard to keep some of this from Cameron. Not because I don't think that we should share in our hurts, etc. but because I know that he is struggling pretty hard with his own emotions. Even though we are a couple, there comes a point when we have to work things out as individuals before we are able be of any use to others... even our spouses.

A few months ago, I was struggling because I found out that I was not pregnant... yet again. It was a very dark time for me. I was feeling lonely, and did not feel that I could share my struggle, or at least the depth of my struggle, with anyone. I decided that I would stop trying so desperately to become a mom, and just put that part of me to rest. I thought that I could bury it in a box, and that would be the end of it. I even went as far as to write a letter to my child I would never have. I also used a whole package of note cards, listing all the characteristics I wanted that child to have. I put on those cards my hopes and dreams for that child. I wept over those cards, and then I put them in a pretty yellow box, and buried them in the top of a closet, behind my box of college keepsakes. In my mind, this was enough. This would keep me sane until one day, God willing, we would be a part of a miracle, and we would find out we were able to have a baby. It worked... until this week. Until this week, I was holding out. I was researching, trying to find a way we could make a baby of our own. Even though I thought I had buried my feelings in a box, I was not giving up. I still had enough hope, I thought I could make it happen simply by wanting it bad enough. This week, I lost that hope. I experienced the death of a dream. This death is a real to me as any physical loss I have ever experienced.

Trying to explain this to someone who has never been in this situation is almost impossible. Even as much as I am hurting, my own brain and heart are in constant conflict. While, yes, I am very happy that we have made the decision to become foster parents, and to give love to babies who need it, I almost resent them at the same time. They are NOT my baby. They never will be. I will never have the experience of pregnancy. I will never get to feel the flutters of life within me. I will never feel my baby dancing inside me, and talk to it, knowing that when it is born, it will already know my voice. I will never have the experience of breast feeding, and the bonding that comes from that act. I will never get to see what Cam and I could create with our DNA. That dream of a little girl that has my skin, Cameron's metabolism, lips, hair, and eyebrows, my artsy talents, and Cameron's generosity... that little girl will never be. I will not be able to pass on my voice, or my mom's eyes. I am mourning the loss of a dream; a friendly little ghost that has haunted me since I was a child. I am afraid that as much love as I will give to another baby, that it will never be enough. I fear that the little spirit of my lost dream will always be there, taunting me, just out of reach.

I have two cousins that have had babies in the past two weeks, one that had one earlier this year and my own sister is due in December with her 2nd child. While, I am very happy for them, I can't help but resent them. Here is where my head and heart are at battle once again. You would think that I would want to get my hands on those little blessings, and hold them and smell them until all the "new baby smell" was sniffed away. Part of me does, but another part of me does not even want to see them. Part of me resents them so much that I almost cringe when I see their pictures come up on facebook. I am so very happy for all of them. I wish them health, and all those other things that you wish for people you love, but I am afraid that my happiness is surface deep. This year we get to go to my family's Thanksgiving... where all these babies will be, and my sister will be with my wonderful nephew, and her belly full of love. I wish with everything in me that I could come down with a convenient case of flu or something that would give me an excuse to not go. *sniff sniff, cough*... I think I feel it coming on already.

I have been told that once I hold my foster, or adoptive baby in my arms, that those feelings go away, or at least diminish. I am told I will be overcome with such love for this little being who needs me desperately. None of my struggles are it's fault, and as far as it knows, am it's parent in every way. It will not care that I can not breast feed it. It does not matter that my mom's eyes were not passed on to it. I am told that much of who we become is based on who we are raised with. I can teach a child that is not mine to sing, and to paint. Cameron will still teach it jokes that are only funny to the two of them, and he will live generosity in front of this child, and it will learn by example. I am told these things, and I can not wait to experience them.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always
~Robert Munsch

The book, Love You Forever has been my favorite book since childhood. My little paperback copy has been gone through thousands of times. It was read to me so often as a child that I had it memorized before I could make sense of the letters on the page. As I grew, I read and recited it to my baby sister. I remember her crawling into bed with me and asking, for the one millionth time, for me to read it to her. I took my much-used copy to college with me, and now it sits in an honored position in my home. For my nephew's first Christmas, I bought a copy for him from Hallmark. This was a special gift for me to give him, since his mother is the same little girl that would sit and listen to me read that same book over, and over again. Because of busy lives and the hours that separate us, I knew that I would not get to see Carter as much as I would like to, so this purchase was an emotional gift that probably meant more to me to give than I could even admit. Thanks to technology, I was able to record myself reading this sweet love story to another generation.

Yesterday, an article about that book came across my homepage feed, and of course, I had to read it. This article discussed the parenting style represented in this book (which I had never considered before) and actually criticized it to some degree. I was on the verge of closing my browser, and not finishing the article on principle, until the language started to change, and the author brought to light something about the book I was unaware of.
The inspiration behind this fantastic book is one of such heartache, and profound love, even beyond the story it's self. The author wrote the book for his two still born children.

If you know my story you can see why this might have struck a chord with me. I bawled after reading about his struggle after his family's tragedy. Only those in my very inner circle know that I have lost a baby. No, I did not have it long; I didn't even know I was pregnant when i lost it. Knowing how I felt during that time in my life, and using my imagination and empathetic heart, I can't help but put myself in the shoes of the author. I read the book again after my education, and I saw it with new eyes. It is a beautiful tribute to the lives of his two babies who never had a chance to take their first breaths.

If you would like to listen to the author read his story, and sing the song he struggled with for so long, follow the link below.
Love You Forever

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle.
~Jane Austen

As I sit here, contemplating my life and evaluating myself, I have come to understand that I am a selfish person, and that it is alright. That statement was only 26.5 years in the making. For a few months now, my husband and I have been attending the "Celebrate Recovery" meetings at our church. I am not ashamed to tell you that I went reluctantly at first. Boy, am I glad that I fought the urge to run from myself. This experience has given me the courage I needed to be able to take a long look inside myself and evaluate myself in the most honest terms. I am fearful of the future, I fear failure, I have approval addiction, anger issues and I am codependent. (Here is the definition, in case you, like me have never heard that term before: It often involves placing a lower priority on one's own needs, while being excessively preoccupied with the needs of others)

I would never have defined my life by that term in the past. Yes, for years, I have struggled with what I thought were the "normal" struggles of a respectfull, caring person. Questions plagued me like, Where do others needs end and mine start? Is it ok to say "no", even if it is the answer I really want to give? How will others view me if I don't do what is expected of me? The list could go on and on. Don't get me wrong, I am not painting the picture of myself as a subservient girl, worn down with the worry of caring for others. Outwardly, you may never have known my struggles. I just chose not to even put myself in situations where I could feel pressured to be deeply involved, or care to much.

"Celebrate Recovery" (CR) has helped me to define my feelings and fears, and given me tools to combat them. As I said, I am a selfish person, and it's ok. It's ok to focus on me once in a while. It's ok to to admit that I have needs and feelings, and they are no less important than anyone else's. My time is valuable, and it is ok to say no if I want, to to any event, even those that are offered by loved ones. This new freedom does not give me carte Blanche to be rude, or unsociable, but it makes it ok to be who I really am without fear. Once I understood this, some of my other struggles made more sense. I still struggle, but I remind myself daily that it is ok to be selfish.

I had to put my heart out there for you to fully understand the struggle I am going through right now. As I have mentioned before, Cam and I are unlabele to have children of our own. We are researching all our options, and adoption seems to be the best course of action. (We will try iui, etc as well) We are looking to adopt out of DHS care. We would love a beautiful baby we could take home from the hospital, but we simply can't afford to pay the $40,000.00 it takes for the adoption. (Seriously, that is about average for an adoption not done through DHS) Part of the process is deciding what limitations or deformities, if you will, you are willing to accept in your future child. As a selfish person, (well, maybe, lets call it ideal) I want to check "none of the above." Out of bravery, or that deep need to not disappoint anyone, I check a few boxes that are not serious illnesses. I feel pretty good about myself -a little charitable even. Out of curiosity and longing, I then go to the sites that show waiting children that are needing families. Not one of them do I even have the desire to take home. Yes, they are all sweet kiddos, who need love and care, but not from me. Most if them are mentally challenged, and about half of them are bound to a wheel chair. I have no problems with children like this, and I feel for them. At the risk of being taken wrong, I do not want to be their mother.

There lies my struggle. Yes, it is ok to be selfish, but how far does that go? I want to be a mother, and am unable to do so naturally. These children are parent less, some of them given up because of ailments they were born with. It is not their fault. They did not ask for the life they are having to live. I am sympathetic to that. Do my sympathies end at simple heart pangs for the helpless children, and is that enough? Is it ok that a good thought Sent their way is enough for me? Is it selfish of me to desire my "prefect" child?
I am so torn.