Infertility After Adoption: Mother's Day

It’s much easier to put the pain of this day aside when you choose to act like it isn’t happening. This is my third Mother’s Day; 3rd year without Ben, 1st year without all three of my Houston babies.
Infertility after adoption has been devastating. It makes me love the babies that surround me even more. It makes the sicknesses of pregnancy worth it in the hopes a baby will come out of it at the end. Somehow the world keeps spinning, and I along with it.

Just a couple weeks ago, it was National Infertility Awareness Week. And that whole week struck me much harder than it ever has, since I've now realized this is a real thing I'm dealing with. 

By some random chance, I found a woman on Instagram who battled with infertility and wrote some amazing things about her journey that resonate so much, and I want to share them. Her handle is @Huntersofhappiness

"One day I realized that the people that make insensitive comments did not realize that this was a real medical problem with a diagnosis and a treatment. They were unaware about what infertility really is and what it entails or didn't know what to say, so they said something silly."

I've blocked people on social media simply because of the things they say, thinking they are encouraging. My body is unique. And right now, it's broken and they can't figure out why. I am not your cousins sister's husband's ex-girlfriend who's going through the exact same thing. My infertility is mine and my husbands. It's our unique genes, my unique eggs and uterus. My story will never be the same as anyone else's. So please, for the love of all things sane, do not tell me some random advice because it may have worked for "Suzy."

"Hope is happiness. I remember the pain of our 2nd failed (pregnancy). It was crushing. Everything had gone perfectly. We had so much HOPE that it would work. I was angry and so sad. I remember thinking that the pain was so intense because I had been so hopeful. It was then that I decided the next month I would have no hope. I would plan or it to fail and then it wouldn't be as painful when it did. So that next month I did it. I had zero hope and got a negative result again.  That month, I was miserable and so incredibly unhappy. I realized that hope is happiness. Sure, hope might make the day that your hope is crushed a little more painful, but the whole rest of the month was so much happier. We have to have hope."

This hit me so hard. After losing Houston one, I was just confused. When we got pregnant with Houston 2, and saw his heartbeat and watched him on the ultrasound, I was SO happy. He was right on track with my pregnancy with Ben, so I knew this would happen then. And then he died, and it was one of the worst pains I've ever felt. I hated everything in life. I hated Ben for leaving me. I hated Zach for not being able to save the baby. I hated myself so freaking much, I can't even describe it. I was so done with even trying for a baby, because all we ever did was try and try and fail and fail and it was shredding me to pieces. 
When we got pregnant with Houston 3, I was more depressed than ever. I told myself "don't get attached, don't take pictures. It's going to die. That's what happens." I told myself that for weeks. I tried to never get excited. And then when he died on New Year's day in one of my favorite restaurants, the agony was just as real. 
I've done it both ways, hopeful, and not hopeful. In the end the baby always dies. But how many more good days could there have been had I been happier, rather than staying under my rain cloud? 

"Many hardships in life are an event. They happen, they are devastating, then you begin the grieving process; denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and eventually, acceptance. When you live with infertility, you go through the process every month, and often times, you don't even have time to get all the way through before your next cycle comes."

You might find me on a good day. You'll usually find me on a day where I'm faking it really well. Then there are some days where I can't even try. The pain is so real. Losing 4 children? How can I be expected to survive this? How can I ever accept it when I know that no peace can be found without reclamation, aka a new baby? I know what could potentially be the ultimate fix, and I'm destroying myself further to get to it. 

"I'm sorry. I am asked on a pretty regular basis what people can say or do to help, comfort and support friends or family members going through infertility. The short answer is to say I'm sorry: I'm sorry you're going through this, I'm sorry you have to experience this pain and heartache, I'm sorry your baby is not in your arms, I'm sorry that this totally isn't fair.

It's simple but it's powerful. It validates the hardship of infertility while also expressing your sympathies. To those who have never experienced infertility themselves, they often have no clue what to say. I love you doesn't have to be a grand gesture. So many amazing friends and family sent me flowers, randomly dropped off care packages, gave me a thoughtful piece of jewelry, sent a card, a simple text or phone call."

When I lost Ben, my front door was heart-attacked by the LDS Singles ward, people I didn't even know but who knew about me thanks to my brother in law. I received so many cookies. They were so good, and they filled me up for days. And I was so grateful to those people. Receiving cookies literally made my day, that's how low I was. There were also a lot of flowers. And one amazing woman, Andrea, gave me a card too. It was one you would find under the loss/grief section of Hallmark. The words, though generated to sympathize with death, happened to be the perfect description for what I was going through. I read that card a thousand times, thinking to myself, "finally, someone sees that this adoption has completely destroyed me. It's like he died." The human mind is not equip to deal with adoption. It sees it as infant loss. What once was there is now gone. And even when I see him now, it is not something my brain can compute. He is not the 27 hours old baby I held in my arms. He's this totally different person who is nothing like me. He is their child, because mine died after I walked out of that hospital. 
If that seems too cruel of me to say, I hope you never have to experience this pain. It is life-altering. It's never ending. 

Motherhood is near to divinity. 
I am a mother of 4 beautiful children. One day, I'll get my 3 Houston's back. But not the child who's loss continues to rip at my soul every day. 

3

Today is my sweet baby's birthday!
That's right, Ben is 3.

It is absolutely insane how fast the time has gone.
It is absolutely insane how slow the time has gone.
The pain and every bit of the experience is so fresh in my mind.
I have days where I wake up and feel like a normal 21 year old.
I have days where I wake up and immediately look around for my bear cub that was stolen from me.
I have days where I wake up and almost drive to Andrew's house instead of work and demand him to give me my life back, and if he can't figure that out, at least give me my baby back.
I have days where I can't look at my parents because they didn't love me enough to save me, and let me keep my baby.
I have days where I hate Ben for forgetting me, for leaving me, for loving his parents instead of me, for warming up and playing with everyone but me. It's like he senses that I'm different than everyone else and doesn't approach me because of it.
I have days where I love Ben so freaking much it's paralyzing, and I end up on the floor of a room at work crying my eyes out because how it is possible for my heart to be this full yet this empty?
I have days where I want to pretend that those three years with Andrew never happened, that the pregnancy didn't happen, that the abuse never happened, that I just decided not to go to college and worked instead; that I am normal.
I have days where I think about every little thing I could have and should have done differently so that Andrew and I never dated, that we never got pregnant, that I never let him force into adoption, that I never researched it, that I never prayed and pleaded with God, that Ben came and I left Andrew to raise him safely, that Andrew came back to me and actually loved me, and if not, then my mom helped me raise Ben until Zach finally came into our lives and took us in.
I have days where I think Ben is better off without me, just like everyone keeps saying.
I have days where I'm some how able to get Ben back, that he magically loves me and calls me mommy, and it's like the last three years never happened, and we were a normal family.

Ben is literally my whole world. Everything begins and ends with him. He has my whole heart, and the majority of my tears. His birth was the most magical experience, and his departure was the most earth-shattering. I love him so much.

"My last birthday, I'd closed my eyes and thought of nothing when I leaned over my cake. You stop believing in wishes when the only one you want to make can never come true." (Sarah Dessen)

"The brightness of the sky outside, the filtered sunlight through the tree just past my window, the most beautiful fall, everyone agreed. It probably was. But even though I was there, and lived it, I couldn't have said so... you, too, can disappear in plain sight if enough is taken from you. I was missing, in many ways. And I wasn't sure I wanted to be found." (Sarah Dessen)

My little book worm!

New Year, New Home, New Goals

On the last business day of 2017, Zachary and I officially purchased our condo 13 miles from my childhood home. It's invigorating 1: Owning actual, valuable property 2: Having free range to be a Pinterest/IKEA addict. We are currently demolishing the crap out of the kitchen and have appointments set to get a new master bath shower & vanity. 

Funny story about that actually: I set an appointment with Bath Fitter to come quote me on the new shower, and he gave me a HUGE $ number, so he said he'll call me later and see what our final thought was. Well he called last night, and asked what we though, and I'm like "Yeah! We totally want everything we talked about!" And he was so caught off guard that we weren't denying him, that he wasn't ready to take our deposit. We were laughing about it. 

Anyway, I'm really excited for this phase in my life. I'm going to go crazy having so much room to be ME and for Zach and I to finally be US without roommates or mother (who has been so kind to house us for the last half-year.) 

I've taken tons of before pictures, and current demo pictures but I want to wait until I have a proper side-by-side before & after to post on here. 

I'm been on this internal hate-rampage for my photography business. Because I think pictures are valuable, and moments like pregnancy, birth, families and marriages and EVERYTHING should be documented in this way. I feel like we photographers all feel like this to the point of passion that we go crazy trying to get business, not for the money, but for the joy it brings us and the warmth we know it will bring as these day to day happenings become distant, cherished memories. I wish with everything in me that photography would be more than just a hobby that I get to take part of, but a life I completely want to immerse myself in. I'm in marketing groups and photographers groups and these women are complaining that they started out this year with only 10 weddings booked (they're used to more) and I'm over here like WHAT HOW WHEN WHERE HOW HOW HOW. Are they better than me? Are they just good at selling themselves? I've done 3 weddings, two of them were for my sisters and the other was my old best friend. 

So it isn't this "organic" experience that my "competitors" are having where they get to meet brides from Instagram and talk about details and shoot for 10 hours at a $10k venue with a bride wearing a $12k dress holding a $500 dollar bouquet, oh and don't forget that her groom is a picture perfect model who actively takes part in the wedding and is willing to pay over $1k for the photography. I would KILL to shoot a wedding like that, to show off what I can actually create; the Instagram algorithm is destroying my chances even more of getting seen. Rant not over, but I'll be done for now. 

I had this daydream where I had just finished hiking a gorgeous piece of mountain on Oahu, knelt down and lamented to God until all my tears had run dry. And for that reason alone, Zach and I are booking ourselves a Hawaiian getaway for the sole purpose of praying on a mountain. Sounds crazy. Sounds HEALING. 

Ben, a Brit, and Baby Houston #3

Happy New Year!

BEN

So in case you didn't know, I love Ben.

If you follow me on Instagram, you've heard about his visit. I just want to share the stupid things I had to deal with.
Once upon a time, I was pregnant with a little baby named Benjamin. During that time, certain genetics were passed on to him via mine and Andrew's genetics. Things like, hair color (mine), eye shape (mine), facial structure (Andrew's), ect. Since he was in my tummy, he also inherited certain taste buds from me (like his love of lemons which I ate constantly while prego) but those have since gone away and he now has his own.
Benjamin cannot inherit any of my behaviors or antics, likewise with Andrew. Those things would be learned behaviors, things that Ben might copy if he were to see us do it. I know this and have accepted that he'll never be like us, and for the most part that is a complete blessing. This world doesn't need another bi-polar rapist abuser like Andrew.

Once upon a time, we were all at Andrew's house for breakfast during Ben's visit. Ben was completely spoiled with attention, and train tracks from his abuela. As he was getting settled to play, he took off his socks and shoes. Just FYI, but that's totally normal. **Side note: my niece Kens looks at her feet funny whenever she has socks on because she doesn't understand where her feet went, it's adorable. Arizona babies are completely foreign to the cold.** Anyway, Andrew interjects as he sees Ben taking off his socks, and shares a completely irrelevant story about how he always sleeps with his right sock off (which is true, but totally irrelevant) and says "Oh he gets that from me."
WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! How in the world would Ben get that from you dude? He doesn't watch you sleep. He's never even seen you for more than 3 hours in his life.

But don't worry, that uneducated-ness continues.

Randomly, in the middle of me and Joel playing trains with Ben, Andrew decides to ask Ann and Derek if Ben ever gets nose bleeds. Ann plays along perfectly as always and humors him, answering that YES Ben does get nose bleeds when he hits his face on the floor or the fridge when playing; which Ben does often because he's a child, and a boy. Andrew interjects once again with a irrelevant story about how he used to get nose bleeds whenever he snorted too much chlorine water at the pools (duh) and how Ben MUST also get that trait from him. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! Y'all he sounded so freaking dumb. And Ben's parents are too nice so they just play along. It was agonizing. I wanted to just tell him to shut up, but then I would look bad.

Later that morning, after Ben was crammed into his highchair while abuela kept attempting to feed him food that he didn't want anything to do with for an entire freaking hour **don't put two year olds in a highchair for an hour, they go crazy. Hell, I was going crazy.** Anyway, I was holding baby Nate, and trying to keep Ben happy while abuela was shoving food at him, and he looked at me and shook his head, so I shook mine back and it was just this cute little game of scrunch face giggling. And of course, Andrew had to interject and say "He definitely didn't get that from me!" OH MY GOOOOOOOODNESS. Someone tell me where his brain went.

Anyway, I hate him and he still drives me freaking mental.

A Brit

I have the bestest brothers in the whole world. I got a British GQ model as a brother when Krissy got married in June. He came to visit for a couple days and we took him to Seattle, and played video games, and made him repeat every thing he said so we could hear his accent again. We love him. Zachy is obsessed with him.

Baby Houston #3

At the beginning of December, I got another positive pregnancy test. We got the okay to try again a month after my surgery in August. I wasn't very optimistic about this baby; I don't trust the process anymore. On new years eve, Zach and I were going to go out. I got all showered and dressed up and my makeup was flawless (which never happens so I was really sad about that) but then I got super sick and ended up waiting for him to come home while laying on the bathroom floor. 

Then next day, my British brother came to town, and we took him out to Mizu: Japanese Steakhouse. It's. The. Bomb. Anyway, I couldn't eat because my stomach hurt. Then I felt the oh too familiar release of tissues and I left the lovely dinner show and ran to the bathroom. My mom came running in after me right as I burst into heartbreaking sobs at the amount of my pregnancy now in the toilet. 

In that moment, I wanted to die. My heart cannot take losing these three pregnancies after already losing Ben. My body is 100% perfect. My body is strong and my reproductive system is working perfectly. My progesterone levels were exactly where they should've been. "It's just a bad egg" or bad luck.... three times in a row. I'd love the excuse of "needing to heal from all the previous miscarriages" but I'm in perfect working order. Or maybe Zach could get checked, then I don't have to blame myself--but his body is also in perfect working order; I have absolutely no issues getting pregnant. 

Nothing is wrong. 

And yet everything is wrong. 

National Adoption Awareness Month 2017

I don’t necessarily consider myself a writer, but I would like to be. My issue is never “writer’s block,” but instead it’s that I have so much to say, but I don’t want it to be undervalued. November is National Adoption Awareness Month and as always there are hashtags to follow and post about on Instagram. But since I don’t feel like bombarding my faithful followers every single day with depressing posts, I’m writing it all on the blog again in one massive, totally avoidable (if you wish) post.

Firstly, I’m going to start out by sharing with you the thoughts of “Lifetime Healing LLC”
“I gave up a lot when I placed my son for adoption. Let’s not pretend that we don’t give up so much when we place. We miss opportunities to parent our flesh and blood, we miss the firsts, and the seconds, and he thousandths. I am so blessed with an open adoption… my visits and pictures and texts… I get the great privilege or peeking into his magical world but it is I NOT the same as being in the trenches all day every day. It is a strange thing to have a son, to give birth to a beautiful and perfect baby and then look at him and not know him. I don’t know how he likes his eggs or how he likes to be comforted when he is sick… I don’t know his bedtime routines or the names of his best friends. I don’t know his different laughs and I don’t know his fears… I don’t know how to be his mother. I gave that up when I placed my son for adoption. I gave that privilege to another. I believe that I made an educated and empowered choice to place… but with that comes the reality that I gave up a lot in the process.”

#Knit Together By Adoption

Big Picture—Adoption is a chance at a stable, normal life. It presents a child with both a father and a mother who have a stable home and jobs and can readily provide for the physical welfare of the child. Additionally, adoptive parents are able to give their full hearts to these children because may or may not have had the ability to produce their own, and therefore, their emotions can be just as strong as a biological connection, eventually.

Small Picture—my personal piece looks very much like the big picture in the grand scheme of things. Benjamin wasn’t placed because he “deserved better.” I would have been the best mother to him and given him the world. Please leave now if you think otherwise. Ben wouldn’t have had a father figure for at least a couple years of his life, although Zach would’ve happily become his father. I wasn’t financially ready because I went to school instead of getting a job because adoption was chosen for me so early in the pregnancy; they wanted me to be “normal” and go to college, so I gained the $7,000 debt instead of giving myself an opportunity to save for my little one.

Who Should Care—everyone needs to understand the different realities of adoption, and not get hung up on out of date myths because adoption touches almost everyone. Someone you know is either adopted or they know someone who is adopted. It’s a complex part of creating a family but the more educated and compassionate you are, the better we’ll all get along and understand one another.

Impact—adoption has destroyed my whole heart and soul. Honestly. You cannot take a child from its mother and expect her to be okay. You can sit there and raise a baby to think you’re its parents and it’ll be brainwashed into believing you, but you will destroy the mother in the process.

Support—I had no support when it counted. My child has love, and that’s all that matters to me.

Birth Family—Me and Andy have since gone our separate ways because adoption, teen pregnancy and domestic violence are just not what bonds people together. I am Ben's mother, Andy is his sperm donor. I have cared for my child since conception, and I take my role very seriously in Ben’s life. Andrew had an epiphany around Father’s Day 2017 (aka when Ben was 2) that he might have feelings for this child, and thereby began to feel his loss. To this day though, Andrew has made zero effort to visit Ben, hasn’t wanted pictures, and will only see Ben if his family makes the drive over the mountains to see him; Andrew is unwilling to drive the 3.5 hours unless I tag along, and I won’t because being in a car with him isn’t really all that safe.

Name Change—Benjamin was named by his adoptive parents. We called him sweet baby until around 4 hours after he was born and his parents told us the name he chose. His middle name is Andrew, unfortunately, as a tribute to Andrew. Gag. When we were writing out his birth certificate in the hospital, knowing Ann and Derek would have to rewrite it anyway in their names, we gave him the last name Franco. But that dissolved within three months to his family name.

Siblings—Ben has a little brother, 2 years younger than him, named Nathan who is also Mexican, which I LOVE. They’re more likely to keep some of the culture, and at least the language, alive because now there are two mexis.

 The Adoption Alphabet prompt (select letters only)

A: is for Adoption/Abuse/Abortion. When I became pregnant, abortion was thrown in my face by people I was heavily influenced by. Killing a freaking baby? What, because Andrew was a freaking rapist now I have to kill a baby? No. He may have had complete power over me in some things, but there was no way I would commit and abortion. It’s disgusting. So when parenting was taken away from my list of possibilities, Adoption became a saving grace. At least this baby will live. I will die, but he will live.

B: is for BIRTH. Pregnancy is a miracle. Giving birth is a miracle. I was so blessed with an uncomplicated pregnancy and birthing experience. I think it was one of those things where God decided since he was going to destroy me, at least the first part of the process would be splendid so I could fall in love with it even more before he was stolen. Yay.

C: is for CREATION. I created a perfect human being. I grew him on my own. I nurtured him every day. He grew because of me. He is alive because of me alone. And I created a family for a couple who couldn’t have their own children. I’m freaking powerful.

D: is for DESTRUCTIVE. Adoption sucked the life out of me. It has destroyed my will to live, my path for the future, my faith in God. And my heart. My heart is shattered.

E: is for EMERGENCY. A huge part of what makes this whole thing worse is that every one’s sage advice was that ‘you can have kids later!’ Tell that to the emergency room technician who had to give me a thorough ultrasound, and then left the room with the saddest look on her face. Or the doctor who followed to give me the news that baby Houston #2 had stopped growing 4 weeks previous; and then he couldn’t find the tissues when I started screaming at God. I’ve had two pregnancies since Ben. They’ve both failed. And then I almost died from uncontrollable hemorrhaging this last time. So yeah. I can totally have more babies. Thanks.   

      

F: is for FAILURE. My body. My faith. My ex. My life.

G: is for GRATITUDE. My baby has the coolest most loving dad on the planet. And since that’s the one thing I couldn’t guarantee him, I’m so grateful that he’s a daddy’s boy. Also, super grateful that they haven’t stopped sending me pix and letting me visit.

H: is for HOPE. I hope Ben learns the real me. And I hope he loves me by his own will. And I hope one day I can cry on his shoulder when he finally understands how deeply I love him. 

I: is for IDENTITY. Who am I to Ben? What will the tell him: the woman who gave him to mommy & daddy?, or a really close aunt/family friend? Does "birthmom" mean anything really?

J: is for JADED. Other synonyms are ‘deadened’ or ‘dulled’. AKA me and my outlook on life. 

K: is for KLEENEX. When you cry as much and as often as I do, you learn to not even rely on Kleenex because you just admit defeat so much quicker. 

T: is for THERAPY. It's so freaking useless, although I do like being in a group where every one totally and completely actually understands my emotions. 

YAY ADOPTION! 

Due Date #1

Today is Baby Houston #1's due date.

I didn't know what to expect emotionally, after all I lost this pregnancy at only 5 weeks; I only knew about it for a couple days. But I'm sad. I'm let down. Obviously depressed and angry. I feel like a failure. And I'm crazy jealous because two people I've worked with just had their babies in the past couple weeks.

So I did the only thing I know how to do to cope: retail therapy. I bought baby Houston #1 some booties and a blanket. Because I'm literally hoarding baby stuff in my old room at my mom's house. She always looks kinda bumbed at me when she sees that the pile keeps growing.

I don't know if we'll start trying again soon. I'm ready for a baby. But I'm not ready for more being let down, or worse, heartbreak and loss.

I'm dreaming of an Italian vacation for sunshine and gelato, or an escape to Hawaii to eat tons of pineapple and pina coladas.


/// Happy Birthday Houston #1 ///

Slides, Agua and So Many Smiles

My sweet baby is now two and a half and he's so much fun to hang out with. I was SO incredibly blessed to be able to go over the mountains this week to see him and Zach and I had the time of our lives!

BENJAMIN is a wild child! He loves to run around and go down slides. He loves to see himself in pictures. He can say Zach's name (not mine very eloquently) because they've been practicing teaching him who we are from our wedding announcement. And he really loves AGUA!

We started out by playing on his toy set in the back yard for an hour going up and down the slide and practicing saying "Ready? 1, 2, 3!" to which I would slide down and he would giggle up a storm. It was incredible. He was so happy interacting with me, which is really the first time he's done that on his own.

Then we went to go see daddy on the boat. I love that boat and all the fun we had on it. Derek started out by totally showing off his wake surfing skills while Ben watched with the biggest smile on his face. Then Zach took a thousand turns and he got it down by the end; besides swallowing all the river water, he had the biggest smile on his face too from the rush of it all. As the sun was setting, we ate some picnic food (because Ann is the best hostess ever!) and rode back, cruising to Ben's favorite songs that he danced to.

The next day, after we checked out from our hotel, we went on a walk along the river to a park for Ben to play on. Zach put Ben on the swings, and I got to go down the slides together. We definitely bonded, because at one point when I was tired out, he wouldn't go down the right slide unless I was on the left slide going down at the same time.

When I was six years old, I was introduced to the magic of Build-A-Bear! It became my absolute obsession, and my "allowance". If I got amazing marks on my piano lessons and helped around the house and maybe grades were involved too, Dad would take me to the farther away mall just to get a new Build-A-Bear. As we were at the mall right before traveling to see Ben, we walked by the store, and I HAD to go in. And then we ended up getting him a Chewbacca bear because that was my nickname growing up.

///////////////////////////////////////////////

I love that boy so freaking much. He is everything to me. He makes my heart so full and when I'm with him, I can almost forget. I wish he was mine still. I would do anything to make him mine again but it is so impossible it's heartbreaking. He gave me hugs and kisses. Like. Come on! There is nothing better than that, but it also stings so freaking bad because he'll completely forget about me until next time, and then we'll have to start over again.