Before Alex and I married, I had no intention
of having children, and I actually took offense to his comment that I would
make a good mother. In fact, I wrote a
poem bemoaning all the factors of motherhood that I deemed negative. As time went on, I warmed up to the idea as
long as I could skip the pregnancy and childbirth part of the deal. I had seen birth on TV, and I had no intention
of putting myself through what seemed like an incredible amount of pain,
discomfort, and embarrassment. I
notified Alex that we’d be adopting, and bless his heart, he gave me his usual
response: “Whatever makes you happy.”
Adoption had been burrowed in the back of my mind for years
and years. I grew up hearing my mom tell
me how she and my dad had planned on adopting their children, except that it
proved to be too expensive and too much of a hassle as they began building
their first house shortly after they were married. For them, since they had the choice, it was
easier to “just conceive”, and here I am.
But what stuck with me from this story wasn’t what my mom
intended. I managed to misunderstand her
and thought that it was only she that wanted to adopt, and that my dad wanted
biological kids. I got the impression that
my mom caved to his desires, and I vowed that no such thing would happen in my
marriage. As you can tell from this
attitude, I was very much a feminist in my world-view at the time, and for many
years, in fact.
In college, my English professor mentioned having had
several of her children at home, which piqued my interest. I was free to explore the idea of homebirth
from a strictly academic standpoint, since I had already made up my mind to
adopt my children. Without the baggage
of preconceived notions or ulterior motives, I found homebirthing to be a
fascinating option and was angered that I had never heard of any birthing
options, not just the location of the birth.
There were options regarding the amount and type of intervention, the
ability to have skin-to-skin contact with your baby immediately after birth
(versus watching the baby be cleaned, weighed, and medicated before you ever
get to hold her or nurse him), and even things like cord-blood banking and
nursing on demand.
My academic interest in homebirth quietly crept into my
subconscious. It sounded not at all like the “barefoot and pregnant” mentality
I had come to associate pregnancy and childbirth with. It sounded…. empowering! I realized that, as a feminist, of course I
wanted to be empowered above all else, and having options in how to give birth
to my child sounded like the ultimate feminine empowerment because it was something
that no man could do.
I actually agonized for a while over being faced with what I
saw as a decision between adopting and giving birth. This was back when I still assumed I had both
options. I didn’t think it’d be fair to
have siblings that didn’t have an equal link to their parents, yet I didn’t
want to give up the desire to adopt in order to have my empowering birth! I finally came to terms with the following
plan: Alex and I would have a biological
child, which would empower me, and then we’d adopt an opposite-sex child.
So the plan was set, but it wasn’t put into motion yet
because I was graduating college, getting married, and heading to graduate
school. Once I completed my graduate
coursework, we would begin trying to conceive.
But since I had been on the birth control pill, whose hormones my mom
warned me should be completely out of my system before attempting pregnancy, I
went off the pill and started charting my cycles well in advance of when we
hoped to conceive.
My faith journey at the time had landed me in nature-based
Paganism, which only reiterated the beauty and empowerment of fertility to
me. I was excited about learning about
my cycles! How amazing is the female
body, I thought! We didn’t actually start trying until 18 months after I got off the
pill, because I was preparing for my comprehensive oral exam, which would allow
me to start writing my dissertation. After I passed this exam and we were ready to go, something told me to be
proactive and get checked out.
We hadn’t
suspected anything, actually. I had 18
months worth of charts, but it was clear that we never purposefully got busy
during my ovulation periods. In all
honesty, we hadn’t been trying to conceive that whole time. We were just preparing to try. But I figured it wouldn’t hurt to just
confirm that we are ready to go, and since I had 18 months worth of charts, my
OB was happy to oblige.
During the three or so months that Alex and I got our routine
tests done, we were actively trying to conceive. There were hips in the air,
there were Pagan spells, there were baby name discussions, and Alex served as
cheerleader for his swimmers (“Go, guys, go!”).
It was oodles of fun! Except that
it was very short lived. Alex’s semen
analysis happened to have been the last test that was scheduled. We got the results on January 2nd,
2008, via a phone call from a nurse at my OB’s.
Today marks the 5th anniversary of the day God put a stop to
the crazy life-planning that I thought I was in charge of.
Remember how our plan was to conceive first, and then adopt
second? The reason for this was to have
two kids, a boy and a girl, and to have the best of both worlds. You see, I had a heart for adoption. I felt strongly that if there are kids in
need of parents, we’d be happy to be those parents for them. It was never about genetics for us, even when
we were trying to conceive. It was about
the experience of pregnancy and the empowerment of childbirth. Our diagnosis (azoospermia, ie. zero sperm)
sounded to me like a pretty clear sign that we had to adopt.
I began researching adoption agencies right away, while Alex
(unbeknownst to me) proceeded with several more detailed tests that gave no
answers. By the time May came around, I
had figured out the plan of action that I felt was best for us, while Alex was
satisfied with his additional tests that this was the only way for us to become
parents.
The new plan (notice how in spite of God’s clear act, I
continued to think I knew best) was to pursue domestic independent adoption for
6 months in an effort to cut out the middle-man (adoption agency) and save
money in the process. We were in
debt. We were in a hurry. Or at least I was. We did not take time to budget and save,
giving us more time to fully consider our options. Once I decided I was ready for a baby, I
wanted that baby NOW! It didn’t help
that my dissertation was based on an analysis of pregnancy magazines! I was all baby, all the time, and I wanted
instant gratification.
(Part two to be continued...)
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