Adoption after infertility: what is solves and what it doesn't
Today I am pleased to be writing for MercyFound Ministries, a ministry that "exists to connect with Christian adoptive and foster care families, promote local Gospel-centered community, and provide adoption education classes." I'm so pleased to join MercyFound Ministries in this worthy mission! When I was first approached about writing for MercyFound, I asked for a list of potential topics and they told me that they haven't had a lot of posts on the topic of infertility and adoption. I knew right away that this would be my subject, though it is not always an easy thing to write or talk about. The relationship between infertility and adoption can be a complicated one. It certainly has been for me. Here it goes...
My husband John and I tried to get pregnant for over a year before we decided to adopt. However, when we made the move from trying to conceive to adopting, we didn’t put our hopes and dreams about conceiving to rest; we put them on hold. When brought our sweet, joyful, sensitive little boy home from Moscow in November 2012 we immediately started trying to conceive again. As I write, we have been undergoing fertility treatments for six months; among lots of diagnostic procedures, we’ve done three medicated IUIs and I had a laparoscopic surgery to remove endometriosis. Our infertility and adoption journeys are distinct but they’ve intertwined too. As I’ve walked both paths over the last four years, I can only describe the relationship between infertility and adoption as very, very complicated. Perhaps the best truth I’ve heard on the subject is this one:
Adoption solves childlessness; it does not solve infertility.
Adoption solves childlessness. Over that first year+ when my husband and I failed to conceive, I often felt panicked. From the time I was a toddler, I imagined myself becoming a mother. As I matured through my preteen, teenage, and college years, the way I envisioned my future evolved to include different goals and desires, but the one thing that never changed was motherhood. Above all else, I wanted to be “Mama.”
John and I got serious about starting our family as I was finishing my master’s degree. As soon as my due date was projected to be after my graduation date, we started trying. I remember how many wonderful butterflies I felt in my stomach and chest as I pictured myself wearing my commencement robe with a big belly protruding underneath. As months and months went by, that dream faded and those butterflies turned into a constricting snake around my lungs. Everytime I imagined my future without children, I lost my breath.