The Empty Frame

When our nieces were here last week the oldest kept looking up at our entertainment center (that Heath built!) and point out that there was no picture in this new frame we had.  I would brush it off, laugh, and just say "I know, we just haven't chosen one." This happened a few times. On the last day she was here she asked again "Halla, why isn't there a picture in there?" This time I told her the real reason "Oh, we bought it for the baby we were going to bring home." She knew about us getting chosen and then the placement falling through. She looked at me and said "Oh, well you can just put the picture of the baby you DO get to bring home in it." She is the sweetest girl. Just reminded me how much the failed placement affected all of our family, not just us. They know we want kids. They knew Halla and Xhaxhi got hurt. They love us. I'm just sorry that they have to go through the ups and downs with us.

It has been pretty up and down lately. June was the month we were supposed to bring home our first baby girl. And even though we know that baby girl wasn't meant for us, it doesn't make our arms any less empty of our hearts any less hurt. So it's been extra painful to see little baby girls and not think about what we might be doing with our first child right now. It's a very weird position to be in to know without a shadow of a doubt that a baby was not meant to be a part of your family, but still be sad that they are not here. Along with that I've been dealing with the failure of our IVF and my impending ovarian failure. 6 years ago we were told we needed to do IVF to have children. My test results came back normal for my ovarian failure for years so we never proceeded (because it is very expensive and we never were on the same page about it). They kept coming back normal until last year. Last year we came to a crossroads of whether to try IVF or start the adoption process. After prayer, we proceeded with adoption. IVF never left our minds (well, not mine). We sort of thought it'd be there for a while, and felt impressed that we were meant to build our family through adoption. So January of last year we went live on our agency's website. Months went by and we didn't hear anything. It was every day checking our e-mail a million times. Then one day, there it was. An e-mail from an expectant mom. She said she had her choice narrowed down to four families and we were one of them. We wrote back and forth a few times, but then didn't hear from her. We knew she had chosen her family, and felt at peace about it. We know, KNOW that Heavenly Father has his hand in this and we will end up with the birth family and child we are meant to, and so we knew that just wasn't them.

After that, a few more months went by and we heard nothing. Then it happened again. We received a simple e-mail that just said "Are ya'll still looking to adopt?" We wrote back and forth, got to know each other more, and then she told us she had chosen us. She herself was an adoptive child, and from an LDS family (members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints). She wasn't active in the church, but still wanted her baby to go to an LDS family. In fact, she told us that each time she went to the itsaboutlove.org website our picture came up (which is not normal-it always changes). She said she told Heavenly Father "Okay, okay I get it. They are the parents." So we spent the next four months talking via facebook, Skype, and phone. There was a lot of drama, and that drama spilt into our lives and we worried a lot about Beckie and the baby. But most of the time it was okay. This was her third child, and she told us early on that her parents had pushed her into adoption for this baby. She reassured us that she would not change her mind, and that she had to do this. That was the problem though. Her heart was never really into it, and with two other children I knew it would be even harder to place this baby with us. It was hard for us to celebrate sonograms, or appointments, or finding out the gender. It's sort of like I said above. It's hard to be happy when you know it comes at someone else's expense. In December, we tried to visit her, but she kept saying that it wasn't a good time. I think we felt it was going awry then. We sent her and her boys some Christmas gifts, but didn't really hear from her. Then in January, we went to visit Heath's family in Utah. While we were there (and after many attempts to contact Beckie ) we learned the sex of the baby. It was a girl! We went out and bought a bunch of little girl clothes. We discussed some of the names we had been thinking about with Heath's siblings. We dreamed of what she would look like. But we weren't really hearing from Beckie. We knew something was wrong, and on our trip home to Texas we really started to get worried. We tried e-mailing and texting, but heard nothing for days. Then on our second day of traveling, a few hours from my parent's house, we heard from her. And just like the journey began, all we were left with was a simple text "No....her heart stopped three days after my apt." Our hearts sank. We were driving and just wanted to get to my parent's (where we were staying the night and picking up our dogs). At first, I think we were just in shock. But I remember looking out the window with warm tears slowly falling from my eyes. I knew this was a defining moment in our adoption journey. I knew I had to choose how I would handle this loss. I was sad. I was hurt. I was angry. Not at Beckie. Sort of at God. How could we be so close and then it be taken away? How could this happen, she was 20 weeks along? Our hearts broke for Beckie, because we were told that she delivered at the hospital after the baby's heart had stopped. She told us she was alone. She told us she couldn't afford burial. She told us a very detailed story about holding the baby, and how beautiful she was. She told us she was sorry, and that she failed us. We tried to reach out to her in the following weeks, but she wanted her space, which was understandable (if her story was the truth). Weeks went by, and I would try and check up on her through Facebook. Our friends and family thought the late pregnancy loss was weird too. Doubt crept into my mind. Then one day on her Facebook page there it was. Some post about contractions keeping her up all night. I was livid. I went to her, and told her I was in disbelief. She denied it, got angry at me, and we exchanged some not so nice words. It was like losing the baby all over again. Except it was almost worse. She was there, she just wasn't ours anymore. A few months later, we saw pictures of Beckie and her newborn girl on her Facebook page. It was bittersweet. I was still hurt from the lying, but I was happy that she seemed to be a healthy little girl and hadn't passed away. I still have questions. When did she change her mind? Why? Is she okay? Is the baby? Weirdly enough, I miss her. I miss the special relationship we were building as an adoptive/birth mom. I cared about her. I loved her. I wanted good things for her. I do not miss the craziness, the lies, the uncertainty.

So we mourned, and went on about our daily lives. We decided to try a round of IVF. Our prognosis wasn't good. We suffered from both low sperm counts and poor ovarian reserve. I'll not lie. At this time, I still thought IVF was a sure deal. One good sperm and one good egg and we would have our miracle baby. But I didn't have one good egg. It was too late, and we waited too long. My ovaries were, and are failing. The doctor told me my eggs are that of a 42 year olds.  When the IVF failed, we were in the doctor's office for our Post-IVF appointment. You could tell the doctor was heartbroken for us. I was teary eyed and said "We should have done it earlier. I just didn't believe the doctors 6 years ago." He told me not to do that-not to think of the what ifs. He said we could "sit here all day and think of the irony of a guy with male infertility marrying a girl with Premature Ovarian Failure", but it wouldn't do us any good. We laughed. Seriously, we loved our fertility doctor. He was compassionate, and funny. But he talked reality with us. It was either donor egg IVF (where we choose someone else's eggs from a donor bank) or adoption. We always knew this was a possibility. I knew for 6 years that I could go through ovarian failure. It just became real right then. My fertility was gone. The possibility of having a child with Heath and my DNA was gone. Again, let me say that we have and still do believe that we are meant to build our family through adoption. But it was a dream I had. It was an innate womanly desire I had inside me, and it died that day. I would never see a positive pregnancy test. I would never get to see a sonogram of a baby growing in my belly, see it kicking, hear it's heartbeat. I wouldn't get to wear maternity clothes, and yes even experience all the crappy symptoms that most people complain about. So it's been an off and on mourning process of that too. I lived in limbo for so many years about my fertility, and now I had my answer. As sad as it was, I'm glad that part of my life is over. No more tests. No more needles, or drugs, or procedures. At the same time, it was sad that that opportunity was gone. That that option was no longer there. It's been a roller coaster of emotions trying to let go of that dream. Most days are okay, but when I see a Facebook pregnancy announcement or a pregnant lady a little tinge of pain squeezes at my heart. But I look forward to forming our family through adoption. I look forward to the many blessings that come through an adoption plan. Expanding our family not only for a child, but their birth family. I am hopeful that one day (and hopefully soon) that frame will no longer be empty, and our arms and hearts will be full. Through the ups and downs, we have not lost sight that our Heavenly Father has a plan for us and it is unfolding each and every day.