Trying turns to despair (2003, 2004)

After that first RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist) I didn’t know what to do.  I knew I wanted children.  I was angry…oh so angry.  I hated people who had children.  I hated that they “flaunted them in my face” (but they don’t!  I just felt like they did).  I loved children and I loved everyone of them that I was taking care of.  I loved my Sunday School kids.  I loved those teenagers we mentored in our church youth program.  I just wanted to be a mommy.  So adoption was not so far out for me.

At some point in this process we sold and bought another home and I moved my business.  That was a good focus, but we still weren’t content.  I remember in the first house (trailer house) falling face down and praying, crying and begging God to forgive me of my past sins even how if I would have become pregnant in high school how I would have had an abortion.  Sins that I never even committed, but would have.  My soul was clean, but my heart was rotten and hurt and grief-stricken.

I remember saying, “If a person wants a car, they can get a second job; if a person wants their hair colored, they can change it; but nothing I can do will get me a child.”  I can’t even buy one.

I couldn’t handle the PCOS anymore, so I went back on the pill.  In 3 weeks my skin was soft, my face was clear.  My mom was freaked to say the least that I was taking artificial hormones and I was so sick of hearing about it.  I got on the list to see another RE in Omaha (came recommended to my mom) and ended up getting in earlier than my original appointment.

We also started filling out the paperwork to be foster parents with hopes of adopting.

I told the RE in Omaha that I was tired and she told me when I was ready to try again (maybe when I was 30 and my fertility declined – important for egg harvesting or AI’ing – you don’t want octuplets!) that we’d look at it then.  For now, she said the pill was ok.  Just the fire I needed for my mom.  I spent money at an RE she wanted me to go to to get an answer I wanted.  This doctor with ten million letters behind her name told me something I’ll never forget (even when I was doubled over in pain years later), “Do not let anyone convince you to take your uterus and ovaries out.”

I’m glad I never did that.  Now, anyway.  But there were times when I cried on the bed to my husband because I was in such pain that I just wanted everything out.

It was during this time that my sister became pregnant with her first, our pastor had their third and every one around me was having babies.  I couldn’t handle it on the inside!  You talk about grief.  Let me tell you about grief.  Let me tell you about avoiding social situations where there are children and parents everywhere.  Avoiding holidays.  Holding that niece of yours and letting her spit up on your shirt on Christmas Eve and your mom saying you need a new shirt.  You telling your mom it’s ok I do this every day and her saying back, “You’d care if you were the parent.”  Whew.  She didn’t mean to be mean, but it cut to the core.  Just another reminder that I’m NOT a parent.  Crying at the altar Sunday after Sunday for healing.  Friends hugging me and nothing doing any good.  Books read on Peace for my soul, bible studies attended (the ones with older women who didn’t have children), but NOTHING helped.  Nothing.

Then we got our foster daughter.  She was four months old and weighed 10 pounds.  She was a sick little girl and her parents were in their late teens.  We hoped we could adopt her, but we knew from the start she was not adoptable.  We had her for five weeks and she gained over a pound and got over her sickies.  Let me tell you, five weeks is enough time to love someone.  We have never fostered again…as of yet, although we took classes in Oregon and contemplated it in Washington.

Then a teen in our youth got pregnant.  Maybe this would be our chance?  Nope.

It was then that I prayed, “Lord get me out of here.”  Jeff was not happy in his employment and had given himself  til April (2005) to get something else.  While he was away at training in February, I hit submit for his resume to be submitted for a training job in Oregon and one in Washington.

Long story short, we moved to Irrigon, Oregon in June 2005.  But my story doesn’t get easier from here…

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