Fostering Q&A

I have seriously been neglecting my writing! With school starting, DHS classes every Saturday, and working my second job on Sundays, my free time is running into the negative. I know that everyone wants updates and I have received several of the same questions from various people, so I decided that this particular blog will be dedicated to answering such queries.

Q: How soon will you get a child?

A: We have another month of classes and our home study is set to be finalized any day. DHS could call anytime after that, so it could be very soon! In emergency situations, we may even get a call before we’re done!!

Q: What age/sex will you get?

A: Most people don’t realize this, but you tell DHS everything you are willing to accept as part of the process. Race, gender, age, behavioral issues, diseases, mental disorders, etc. We are asking for a baby. We prefer a girl, but if a boy is available first, we would definitely consider it. We are open to any race and have even said that we would consider twins!

Q: How long will it take for you to be able to adopt the baby?

A: This is a complicated question. When they call, they will let us know the baby’s history and let us know if it is likely to be adoptable. They usually have some idea of what will happen based on previous encounters with the parents. We have the option to turn down any call. Unless they indicate that the child is likely to be adoptable or the rights have already been relinquished, at this point in our lives we would probably say no. I could definitely see us welcoming older children into our home later in life, but right now we are preparing for a baby.

Q: At what point did you decide enough was enough and turn to fostering/adoption to complete your family?

A: I think anyone experiencing infertility or recurrent miscarriages faces this decision at some point and it’s a very personal thing. For myself, I felt strongly led towards making our tragedy into something powerful and uplifting. What better way to do that than to change the course of a child’s life forever? Also, I could not, in good conscience, continue spending money in the name of having a biological child. For some, spending thousands upon thousands of dollars to have a miracle baby is their testimony of love and enduring faith. It can give others in the same situation hope. That’s just not where my heart is. Not when unwanted babies are dropped off every day at hospitals needing a home.

Q: So are you totally done trying for “your own” baby?

A: Well, we’ve had the “one last test” and it revealed NOTHING. Big surprise. Dr. Impressive Credentials REALLY tortured me with that test, but all that pain yielded another “I couldn’t see anything that would cause your miscarriages.” He sent us on our way advising us to try, try again. I guess my answer is yes, I’m done. If it happens, it will be despite all efforts to prevent it. Those pink lines have given me nightmares for too long now, and I’m quite certain that I can do without seeing them while I’m awake! My desires are in a different place now.

Q: What will you do if you get a baby and then end up pregnant?!

A: Assuming that the baby in my belly decided to stay, well, the more the merrier! We would be ecstatic with our double blessing!

Q: Aren’t you scared about this whole process?

A: Anyone who is adopting in any fashion that says that they don’t have very real fears and concerns is either doing extensive meditation or lying. What do I do when the child wants to find his/her “real” parents? What happens when they struggle developmentally because their mom was on drugs or didn’t have good prenatal care? When do I tell them they’re adopted? How do I let them know that they are more loved than any child on earth when they feel abandoned by the one that was supposed to love them most? These are the questions that give me pause, that bring tears to my eyes, that put the gravity of what we’re doing into perspective.

Any time something this huge is on the horizon, questions abound. I may actually have more questions than answers at this point, but I firmly believe that when we hold our baby for the first time, those questions will answer themselves.

Checking My Baggage

Have you ever found yourself at the airport standing at the counter frantically trying to move clothes into your spouse’s suitcase to get it down to the acceptable weight while everyone behind you checks their watches? Or maybe you’re one of the smart ones who weighs your bag repeatedly at home, leaving behind things you’d rather not for the sake of saving money. The bottom line is that if you want to go somewhere, too much baggage weighs you down.

For all of you extra observant readers, you may have noticed that there have been long lengths of silence between my last few blogs. I know that I promised to stay busy this summer, and I have, but being occupied was not the reason for my procrastination. The reality is that I had some major “baggage” of my own to let go of before I could possibly move forward in this journey towards becoming a foster parent, namely anger, resentment, and a serious sense of entitlement.

A peek into my recent struggles: This whole DHS process is extremely disheartening to say the least. Being required to spend hours on paperwork and take parenting classes would probably deter all but the most dedicated applicants (which is probably the point). However, I can’t help but think if the parents of these babies had been required to do the same before they conceived a precious child, many children would not have to live through the horrors that they face every day. There is never a lack of sickening, inhuman stories in the news involving these innocent angels. (Case in point: http://www.newsok.com/woman-is-arrested-after-girl-5-found-living-in-closet/article/3587308?custom_click=lead_story_title). I could dwell all day too on how unfair it is that women get to birth these amazing gifts from heaven when they don’t even want them in the first place!  We have considered domestic adoption briefly, the price of which is an insult to injury in itself. It is just so wrong that not only am I being robbed of the joy of carrying a baby, watching it grow while seeing my features reflected in its little face, but that I also have to either pay an arm and a leg to have a baby or subject myself to months (possibly years) of being controlled by the state and its flawed system. I’m sure by now you see the dire situation that I was in last month…my baggage was controlling my life.

I defeated this unrelenting dialogue in my head by rewatching a sermon our church did several months ago on the dangers of comparison. When I was lamenting about how crappy my situation was, I was really saying that I was not satisfied with the blessings that I have been given. We are all blessed in different ways and we don’t really deserve any of it. We are not guaranteed anything in this life, and yet I have been given so much. Who am I to say how God should bless each of us? Comparison also leads to jealousy, which is an extremely destructive force. I was actually feeling resentment and anger towards others for being able to have a baby! That is humiliating to even admit, but it is so easy to succumb to and it’s different for all of us. It is impossible to get into someone’s new car or tour their beautiful home and not get a taste of jealousy. And who goes home afterwards and is more thankful for their junked-out vehicle or worn out furniture?

The most unfair thing of all would be for us to bring a baby into our home while I am still holding on to something else. After a month of grappling with all that extra weight, I can honestly say that I have come a long way in letting it go. I don’t HAVE to foster a baby because it’s my last resort; I GET to follow a higher calling than most people BECAUSE of what I’ve gone through. I GET to make a difference in a child’s life and I GET to rewrite that child’s story while doing it. Instead of seeing fostering to adopt as option #2, it is now my priority.  It doesn’t mean that these thoughts will never cross my mind again, but now I know that gratitude goes a long way in dissipating the resentment and anger. After a month of turbulence, we are hoping for clearer skies!

Waiting is the Hardest Part!

When is the last time you waited for something you really wanted? Not just in terms of minutes, but in years? I know, I know, it seems like you've been waiting years for my next blog. So sorry Friends! In all seriousness, when I look back through my life, I can honestly say that the cliché “Good things come to those who wait” has proven itself true time and again.

Silly Example: I can get a meal in a few minutes from McDonalds and regret it for hours, or cook a Pioneer Woman recipe myself (yes, I am indeed obsessed), spend an hour or so preparing, and reap the delicious benefits. 

Anxiety-Inducing, Faith-Testing Example: I could have taken a job I didn’t love and knew I wasn’t meant to have simply for the sake of having one. I stepped out in faith and turned it down, waited all summer, and lo and behold 4th grade had an opening at the last minute! 

So-Glad-We-Waited Example: Once we decided to move, we wanted to move THAT DAY. We could have taken out 2 mortgages as so many people do. However, we waited 6 months until we sold our house before we frantically searched for our dream home. The timing was perfect for us to get a great deal. If we hadn’t waited, this house would not have been attainable. 

Mega life-changing example: Yet to be written. 

As you know, we are still waiting (2 years later) on God to bless us with a baby. We don’t know when it will happen or what that will look like. We are continuing to move forward with the DHS process and will have our first home study soon. We will hopefully get the parenting classes knocked out in August. I am also planning to have the “one last test” Dr. Reshef recommended and depending on the results, we may try for our own again someday when I’m ready. No, I don’t know how much longer we will be asked to wait on God’s timing, but I do know that when our family increases in number, the waiting will have made it that much more “good.”

The Big Reveal

As proven by my lack of blogging lately, I have thus far managed to keep the promise I made to myself of staying inordinately busy this summer. A zoo visit here, lunch with friends there, working out every hour in between…it has been easy so far. However, this IS summer (a.k.a. Baby Season), and I can remain oblivious no longer to the growing bellies protruding beneath every tank top and dress worn by every woman between the ages of 20-50. Unless I send up prayers for temporary blindness (and please don’t), I cannot escape the fact that virtually everyone I know is pregnant at this very moment. No amount of working out or staring at jaguar spots can give me the amnesia I have been hoping for. This leads me to the big reveal…the cure to my maternal longing…


Tomorrow we are starting the long journey towards becoming foster parents. We are meeting with a lady from DHS to fill out what promises to be a mountain of paperwork. This will be followed by background checks, financial statements, fingerprinting, physicals…the list goes on. Once we pass all of that, we will begin working towards completing 27 hours of parenting classes on free evenings and/or weekends. The last step is having a home study in which they check and make sure your home is kid friendly - or something to that effect. Then, BAM, you get a phone call and suddenly, for all intensive purposes, you’re a parent.

As you can tell from the above paragraph, we have no clue what to expect, we are in no way prepared, and we have nothing, and I mean NOTHING, for kids at our house. This is our leap of faith. Opening our home to a child that we will pour our hearts into, only to have her returned to her parents, is sure to happen. And sure to be agonizing. Our ultimate hope is that we can foster an infant and eventually adopt - as a few of our friends have been blessed enough to do. We were informed that Canadian County is not the mecca of infant adoptions, but we aren’t just doing this to fulfill our desires. We are doing it to minister to a child that may never go to church except with us, to show a toddler the wonders of unconditional love that they may have never experienced, to give a newborn a warm embrace and a comforting place to sleep. No, we have no clue what to expect, but we do know what we have to offer…and that’s everything we are.

Those Glorious Days of Summer?

Summer. A word that makes every kid’s heart leap and all teachers sigh with relief. It signifies an end to a school year, a break, a rest from the daily grind. Summer when I was a kid seemed endless, with so much to look forward to: long, hot days spent swimming at White Water, screaming gleefully on rides at Frontier City, listening to my dad mow the grass while I read contentedly in my room, driving to Tulsa to visit my grandparents, and playing basketball with my neighborhood friends until it was too dark to see. The list, it seems, could go on forever. My favorite childhood memories are from those carefree summer breaks when the days stretched before me…each one a new possibility.

As a teacher, my outlook on summer has been a bit different. Every year I hear, “Must be nice having two months off,” spoken with a detectable trace of derision. Questions like, “What are you going to do with such a long break?” and “How long do teachers get off again?” are asked with a hint of incredulity. A teacher’s summer is spent a little differently than one might think. Most teachers, including myself, use those months to plan and shop for the upcoming year, actually get some things done around the house, and, oh yeah, work a summer job! The summer days no longer stretch out before me as a sea of memories waiting to be made…they fly by in a state of fast and furious “doing.”

As a non-mother, this summer will be unlike my previous “teacher” summers. I’ve spent the last 2 summers pregnant, full of hope, my mind occupied with what might be. This summer, despite my busy state, I am afraid the days will instead stretch out before me in a sea of memories I may never make. I plan to heap even more responsibility onto myself, in hopes that the days will, indeed, fly by as they have in past summers. A little SWITCH (youth group), maybe some dog training (working towards Koda’s Canine Good Citizenship), even a little baby-sitting. Somehow, I’m not sure if it will be enough to keep my mind off the shower I should be planning and the nursery I should be decorating.

With summer just a week away, the non-mother in me finds myself wishing I could stop time and hold at bay the day the teacher in me has been looking forward to for so long. Summer, that beautiful taste of freedom, suddenly feels too oppressive to face. What will I be doing with my two months off? Whatever it takes. 

Dexter-style

Dexter. I’ve been rewatching the first season, and I realize now one of the many reasons why I love it so much. I really identify with him. Not the serial killer part, but his emotional awkwardness. He has to fake emotions in order to fit in, as he has no feelings of his own. Now I wouldn’t say that I’m THAT far gone, but I do often feel as though my emotional responses aren’t “normal.” I have comforted many a friend as they cried about MY situation whilst I sat dry-eyed. I have recounted some of my darkest days to others while seeming as detached as if I were talking about the weather. I have stood in the diaper aisle of Wal-Mart wondering when the tears were going to come…reading about other women weeping over Pampers in their local grocery stores told me surely that was the “typical” miscarriage reaction. People have implored me to remember my babies through plants or trees or even through giving them names. The thought that none of those things ever crossed my mind…well, chalk another one up to my oblivious insensitivity.

Now believe me, I do cry. Put Marley & Me on television or give me a Nicholas Sparks novel, and I’m bawling unabashedly. It’s easy for me to cry for someone else’s situation (especially when it involves a furry, four-legged friend). There’s just something about the vulnerability and egocentricity of crying for myself when others are around that I just can’t handle. However, just because I can go out in public and talk about my situation without tearing up, Dexter-style, I’ve found that people think that means I’m “okay” enough to be subjected to all sorts of interesting commentary and advice. I’ve read numerous articles online regarding this verbal phenomenon, so I decided to consolidate the information (plus a few of my own gems) into a list of things NOT to say to me, or anyone else suffering through recurrent miscarriages or infertility, for your own personal safety. *Each faux pas is followed by my unspoken reaction for a little sarcastic relief. (Read at your own risk…)

10) Kids aren’t that great anyway. *Then give yours to me.

9) Maybe you’re just not meant to be a mom. *Ouch! Below the belt!!

8) You’ve gained some weight! *Yes after five pregnancies with no time in between, you tend to gain a few pounds. And the grief eating doesn’t help. Oh, and YOU’VE gained a few pounds. (I didn’t say the reactions were mature…) Haha

7) Have you tried XYZ? It worked for this lady on the internet… *Oh, I’ll tell my doctor with years and years of experience who has read just about every study known to man on fertility issues and attends all sorts of conferences. I’m sure he’ll be happy to have a cure.

6) Oh well, you can always adopt. *When this comes from someone with their own biological children, it’s a knife to the heart. The inability to have a child with mommy’s lips and daddy’s eyes is a huge grievable loss, a vanishing dream, not just some small inconvenience.

5) I know how you feel. *Not a good idea to say to ANYONE going through anything remotely tragic.

4) God has a plan. *Not helpful unless God has told you what it is and you’re about to impart that knowledge upon me. I know it’s true, but hearing it doesn’t change anything.

3) When are you going to give up on having a baby? *When you buy me a baby.

2) Well, there are worse things that could happen. *Great line for a new Hallmark sympathy card! You should submit the line right away before someone else steals it!

1) Nothing. *I’ve talked about this before – no need to say it again.

I don’t say ANY of this to induce guilt, because if you’re sensitive enough to think I might be writing about you, you’re sensitive enough that you wouldn’t have said any of these things! Also, I know that most of these comments and questions are born out of genuine concern or to fill the uncomfortable silence. I rarely take them to heart or hold them against anyone because God knows I’ve said some TRULY idiotic things when I didn’t know what else to say. The best things to say? I love you. I’m praying for you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. That means more than all the well-meaning advice in the world.

Groundhog Day

“What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered? “ This is a quote from a movie called Groundhog Day; since I’m one of only 13 people who have seen it, I will give you a very short synopsis. Basically it’s about a weather man who wakes up the day after Groundhog Day only to find he’s reliving the day all over again…and again, and again before he finally wakes up to a tomorrow. I feel his pain. I’ve figured it up, and out of the last 21 months of my life (since the day of my first positive test), I have been pregnant for half of that, each time a Pregnancy Déjà vu.  I’m not reliving the fun parts of pregnancy over and over…the name choosing, feeling Baby’s first kick, nursery shopping, shower attending. No, I’m stuck with the morning sickness, the exhaustion, the anxiety, the overwhelming grief…you know, the really UNfun parts. When you’re stuck in the same 2 months over and over, sometimes your todays ARE your tomorrows…sometimes the future is obscured by the present.  

We relived another unfun day today…we found out that we have to have another D&C. Unfortunately, although the baby has passed, my sac, for whatever reason, has decided to hang around and even grow. The doctor told us today that if I continue to try to let this miscarriage take place naturally that when it finally happens it will feel more like labor…something I don’t wish to experience without a baby in my arms at the end of it.

Monday is my 30^th birthday...I pray that this meaningful milestone will be my Groundhog Day awakening. That I will wake up one day soon to feel my round belly, breathe in my new baby’s sweet scent, or even eagerly sign adoption papers. When I blow out my candles this year, my request won’t be a secret…and my birthday toast? “Here’s to a new tomorrow.”