Path to Parenthood: IVF to Adoption

When I was in my early 30’s I met a man and fell in love with him. I did not seek God’s guidance in the matter, but loved him and decided to say “yes” when he proposed marriage after just four months of dating. We were married just a few days short of a year from the day we met. Before we married we talked about certain life goals especially that I wanted to have a child with him. He already had a daughter and I fell in love with her as well. I loved her so very much and was grateful to become her stepmother. We both wanted to continue our lives and be bound together in marriage eventually growing our family. We purchased a home together renovating the home in its entirety after our wedding and honeymoon. I explained to my then husband (we’ll call him John) that I was told by a doctor when I was in my early twenties, and I was in my early thirties when telling him this, that because of my spine I could be on bed rest as little as two weeks or as much as six months if I became pregnant. Also, if I became pregnant I would not be able to take certain pain medications and would endure terrible pain for the duration of pregnancy as well the period before (how ever long it took to conceive) and the period after (if I breast feed or produced breast milk). I did not consulted God or my immediate family members about plans to become pregnant nor did I consult either of them before I reluctantly tried IVF (In Vetro Fertization). My family would probably have adamantly said no. I had always said that if I didn’t find the right partner, I would adopt on my own because it was a life goal of mine to become a mother and I made a decent income to become an adoptive parent on my own. During that time of trying to conceive I became pregnant. I missed my period and was excited because I have an extremely regular and predictable cycle. I went to the pharmacy and got a home-pregnancy test. It was positive! Yay! I was dreaming of the conversation I would with my husband, John. What I would tell him and how and when. Later that day I felt extreme pain like menstrual cramps but more painful than I have ever experienced. I don’t usually have cramps so I was worried. The cramps and pain became severe and my worst suspicions became true. I miscarried and had the heaviest period of my life. I remember sobbing as I saw the blood while in the bathroom. I cried and cried.

When my husband, John, got home from work I told him what happened. How I was so excited to finally tell him the good news and was devastatingly sad. He acted surprised that I was so upset and was not only not comforting at all but very clinical and matter-of-fact explaining early-term miscarriages to me and telling me it was no big deal and further silly of me to grieve over cells that didn't become a baby. Not long after I suspected I was pregnant again but I didn’t get a home test yet as I determined to wait even longer before testing this time. The same thing happened: I had a very late and extremely heavy and painful period. I cried to John looking for comfort or reassurance, encouragement, or at least a hug. We hugged. I thought he understood a little better and was comforted. I remember pulling away from a hug as tears streamed down my face and he looked at me and very matter-of-factly and nonchalantly said, “well, your side of the family DOES have bad genes..” I was hurt and my efforts were futile. I felt like I just had a rug yanked from underneath my feet. He continued to explain things insinuating that the loss was my fault. He all but outright said "its your fault" and again he made a comment about "inferior genes" on my side of the family. We had discussions about the fact that I was exposed to a lot of radiation due to x-rays related to my spinal surgery and then again after I was in a car accident. He also pointed out that my mother (whom he had never met and I was estranged from at the time) was an alcoholic and that I had mentioned my father (whom he had also never met and I was estranged from), a Vietnam veteran had been exposed to agent orange and my brother (whom he had also never met and I was estranged from) had epilepsy, a genetic neurological defect. The next times I even thought I was pregnant or miscarried again I didn’t tell him (or anyone). I couldn't bear again to be told it was my fault, my family’s fault., or the ways it was even in any way my fault. I suffered in silence making excuses for John’s reaction. “Everyone handles bad news differently.” “He loves me so it’s okay if he doesn’t get it.” “I love him so I should be a good wife and good Christian and give him grace as he loves me. I should be understanding he tells me followed by how “you know I love you.”

One day I was shocked to receive a call from John’s ex-wife, Sally, saying that she spoke with her husband, Jim, about what John said after thought and prayer they wanted to discuss it further. I was blind sided and had no idea but from the conversation on speaker phone I learned that my then husband John had approached his ex-wife, Sally ,and told her and her husband, Jim, that 1) I was infertile; and 2) would Sally and Jim consider Sally consider being a surrogate (through artificial insemination) "for us since [my name] couldn’t have kids?” I was bewildered and baffled, speechless. Not only did my husband ask his ex-wife to be a surrogate without talking to me at all what so ever, but we hadn’t spoken about surrogacy and we didn’t know for sure that I was, as he said, “infertile” and “barren”. I felt devastated and betrayed as well as very uncomfortable that such a serious (and deeply personal) matter was discussed without my knowing anything about it. To say I felt severely betrayed as several times in our marriage things I confided to John were brought up by or in front of other people. I assumed some things were personal and would not be divulged to others by John. From then on I was careful what I told John and sure to clearly say that what I was telling was private if I intended it to be private. I told him a few things in confidence as a test that failed. He continually betrayed me by telling others things I told him in confidence. Nothing was out of bounds or private. In hindsight this is incredibly disturbing and demonstrates how much of a doormat I had become to him, for him. I would have done anything for him and ultimately did, nearly losing my life, but that is a different storyline. Back to the topic of us growing our family. I believed that marriage is for life and I would do nearly anything to save our marriage. Ultimately I was the only one to go to counseling. Marriage is like a dance: it takes two to tango and I was dancing alone. John adamantly refused. I kept dancing alone. Changing as much of myself as I could to better our life. John did not. Eventually, the conversation of IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) came up. John said that he was happy with how his child, my step-child, turned out and was fine if he only had one child. I bristled and said, “wait a minute, we agreed before we got married to grow our family and I repeatedly told you that #1 on my list of life goals is to become a mother.” I loved being a stepmother but wanted also to experience being a mother in my own right. He insisted that we at least try IVF before he would even consider adoption. I bristled but relented. I loved him and wanted so very much to make him happy (at that point even to my detriment). I wanted to give him a child. The severe psychological abuse began incrementally. If I were told at any point early on how I would ultimately be treated I would have run. I didn’t allow God to direct my path. Instead I thought I’d invite Him along my journey rather than making Him my number one. One should live with God, spouse, kids, in that order of importance but I ultimately prioritized spouse, God, kids. But in this part of the story, I was a newly married woman eager to be a mom in addition to being a stepmother. My life is an example of how even if you see a path covered in diamonds, puppies, kittens, and rainbows if you are not letting God direct your steps you aren’t on the right path.

“For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Then you will call upon Me and go and pray to Me, and I will listen to you. And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13 NKJVhttps://bible.com/bible/114/jer.29.11-13.NKJV

We started the IVF journey. Let me say that IVF is a miraculous wonder of science and a blessing to many parents. However, I had terrible experiences, sleepless nights and my hormones were a wreck. I didn’t take birth control because at the age of 26 as I thought I was having a heart attack.  I had heart palpitations (even rushing to the hospital) and terrible side effects with each hormone-related birth control methods I tried in my adult life and ultimately decidedly did not take birth control and hadn’t for several years at that point. As a part of IVF you give yourself injections of hormones daily with a needle/syringe, take a couple of weeks of birth control, and have an outpatient procedure called egg-retrieval in which then harvest the eggs produced from the ovaries. I can some up my IVF experience as sleepless nights, troubles at work (short-term memory issues, excessive tiredness, mood swings, back pain often severe, etc) and a vivid memory of me sitting in the shower floor sobbing loudly as huge clumps of my hair had fallen out while washing my hair. This was not mere hair loss, which was to be expected with all those hormone injections, but huge sections of hair in my hands. I broke down sobbing in the shower floor as I stared at my handfuls of hair. I was beyond over it. I had the egg harvesting procedure and we received calls from our doctor while on a family Christmas vacation ski trip. After the procedure in which the eggs (11) were harvested, the eggs are microscopically fertilized with John’s semen. The embryos are then monitored to see which of them thrive and which of them fail to thrive (or “die” some might say). We got down to two embryos. During our vacation the doctor called to tell us the final two failed to thrive. The doctor was nearly as disappointed as we were as he said that because I produced what looked to be 11 healthy eggs and John’s sperm sample produced some viable sperm, he was very optimistic about our chances of becoming parents and sorely disappointed for us that it didn't work out for us. He asked if we wanted to undergo the process again and John had them put us on the schedule to start another round of IVF upon our return from vacation. I reminded John that he gave me the condition that he would consider adoption if IVF failed. I was NOT going to go through IVF again. I couldn't. I didn't know it then but many of the unpleasant (to say the least) side effects would continue to plague me. I would never be the same. John made arguments for doing another round of IVF if I “really wanted a baby”. I did want to be a mom very much and it was clear that I would do nearly anything for John, but fortunately after several conversations and me reminding him of his promise to consider adoption if IVF didn’t work. He agreed.

The private adoption process also involves meeting with the adoption agency’s agent assigned to us /our case. John did not want to be bothered or take time away from work to meet with the agent with me. I went to every meeting I could alone until it was clear that he had to at least make an appearance for optics at least. I remember talking to him with excitement about scheduling a meeting to meet the birth mother that selected us from our biography and photos. He said, “why can’t you just go and meet her?” He didn’t want to take time from work to go with me to meet her until aghast I said, “no, silly! I’m not adopting alone, am I? She’s giving her baby to us in adoption I think she’ll want to meet you too and not just me alone!” He quickly realized that this wasn’t an optional appearance and agreed giving me a date and time to coordinate the meeting.

Through the private adoption route people commonly joke that one is “paper pregnant” because of the large amount of paperwork. I did all of the paperwork. John made it clear that was my job and was exasperated when I asked him for certain things like financial statements he had to provide. I couldn’t do that for him as I didn’t have access to his finances. (Also, a point to note for other blog topics: My limited access and his progressive control over our finances until he had total control.) I remember reminding him that this dubious paperwork process was a part of becoming a father again and pointed out that what seems annoying or inconvenient is the pathway to parenthood and therefore reason to tolerate it if not smile.

One lovely Spring day in Florida John and I went to meet the birthmother who selected our profile and chose us from many applicants. We were especially honored since we were told she was so far along in her pregnancy and she had declined all of the other previous applicants provided to her; she had been picky. We met with her for over four hours one day. The other details are my son’s to share or not, to do with them what he will as it is his story. I will say that I had an amazing moment with her in which she said her belief system is Christian and she has always believed in prayer, talking to God. She said that she felt it was important to tell us that when she was looking over profiles she felt a strong urge to select ours as if someone shouted “them! They are his parents!” When she told me that I tried very hard not to weep tears of joy.

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalms 139:13-14 NIVhttps://bible.com/bible/111/psa.139.14.NIV

One day we were discussing who would do what after the baby was born. We were in our bedroom and John told me about the birth of his 1st child with his ex-wife, Sally. He said that he wasn’t “good with kids until they are old enough to speak”. Then he continued in the story of his child’s birth. In short, after his Sally gave (vaginal) birth at the hospital, he leave her and baby to go to his work. He didn’t see the need for him to be there since “they were just going to rest and feed baby” and “could do that fine without me.” He said he just “didn’t see the point in my being there.” I was astonished and said wait, “How do you envision being a father of a baby again? You aren’t going to be one of those dads that doesn’t change a diaper are you?” He assured me that wasn’t the case and intimated that he felt badly about his actions around the time of his 1st child’s birth. He repeated that he “wasn’t good with kids until they are old enough to speak.” I asked him to plan on taking time from work when our baby was born. I told him that even though I wasn’t giving birth I expected him to be there for the first few days home. I was insistent and remember us going back and forth negotiating how long he would take off work to be home…”a week” “no, a long weekend.” … I reminded him that although I had been doing a lot of reading to remember that I am a first-time parent and things that may not be new to him are very new to me. I recall I felt exasperated and John reassured me that he would be present and in fact, it would be silly for me to be concerned.

One morning I received a phone call from our adoption agent: the baby boy had been born in the night! The mother went into labor prematurely as she had preeclampsia. Both she and baby were healthy. He was in the hospital's NICU and I could drive to see him immediately. When I got off the phone I fell to my knees thanking God. I literally cried a puddle of tears there on the floor. I was beyond joyful. When John and I went to the hospital we met both the birth mother and birth father there in person. I tried very hard not to be overwhelmingly overjoyed as I wanted to be sensitive to the birth parents. It was a bittersweet moment as they were losing a child while we were gaining one. Intense joy and sorrow in one room.

In a moment I will forever remember I was talking to the birth parents and said “your son.” She interrupted me to say, “no, YOUR son is in there” and even smiled at us. It was a poignant, lifetime memory one will never forget. I can always tell my son how very much he was loved by his birth parents and how very careful she was in selecting us to be his parents, how God spoke to her, urged her strongly to select us. Those first two weeks of his little life were spent in the NICU where I was every day. The NICU nurses were wonderful. During the first 48 hours the birth parents may change their minds and abort the adoption before it becomes legally binding, no take-backs. The hospital staff had to therefore treat us as visitors. As such we had limited information. The nurses couldn’t even tell us any of his medical information (prognosis, treatments, medications, etc). We got used to having to ask the agency for the update given by the birth mother. Each day I would read his weight and vitals updated a written next to date and time on a paper card taped to his bed. After a few days though we didn’t want to bother the birth mother during what was surely a very difficult and complex time of mourning for her.

Being a first time parent I had a million questions and even highlighted parts from pregnancy books and adoption books. I also had bullet point lists of questions. During the time we were trying to get pregnant through the adoption process I had read several books on the topics of pregnancy, adoption, interracial adoption, parenting books, parenting nutritional books, and put into practice how to make safe homemade baby foods (once babies are old enough for food). I often would read aloud findings to John (who read nothing despite my requests.) I settled for reading allowed certain findings to him when we were reading in bed each night. I made it a habit to highlight paragraphs that I wanted to read to him or discuss with him. During those two weeks in the NICU, those nurses were fantastic! a few of the nights I was even allowed to sleep there in a cot they had in the back room reserved for staff. One of the nurses even offered to let me stay over at her house. (The hospital was more than a couple of hours from where we lived, so I often left home before sunrise and didn’t get home until sunset.)

It was clear that for some of the staff, they hadn’t yet witnessed an adoption. During the first couple of days, certainly before the adoption was final, the staff wouldn’t and couldn’t divulge any information that they wouldn’t divulge to a visitor. We were there as visitors and our security badges said “visitor” and not “parent”. The nurses wouldn’t even answer some of my hypothetical questions. I was a first time parent. As such I tried everything I could to get any information I could. (Can you blame me for trying? I was a first-timer and my baby was in the NICU.) The nurses were very kind and understanding. I quickly learned what I could and could not ask. One of the more senior nurses that had been her position over a couple of decades took pity on me and told me what they (the team of medical staff) are trained to do and how on a general basis, for example, it is a good sign when a baby is moved from incubator to bed or when a UV heating blanket is no longer required because that is indicative that a baby is able to successfully self-regulate their body temperature. She tole me some of the routines and common hospital policies like the much smaller baby bottle versus the larger bottle that could hold more ounces we generally used on babies that may be able to go home relatively soon as they are the size of bottles that are used at home. (4oz newborn bottle size rather than the hospital preemie bottles he had used previously). I had my birthday while in the NICU. I didn’t even remember it was my birthday until I arrived at the hospital early one morning, coffee in hand, to see a laminated page with a picture of me holding our son in the NICU the day before. The card read around the photo, “Happy Birthday, Mommy!” And it said "my first gift to you!" I still have it to this day and treasure it. I’m so glad they laminated it! After two weeks in the hospital we were allowed to take baby home. I remember they tested the baby carrier/car seat for safety and one of the nurses smiled reassuredly at me and leaned over to said to me, "This is a routine test we do prior to sending a patient home." I smiled largely acknowledging her message and returned her smile with a huge one of my own as I knew we would be taking him home soon! And we did. I'll never forget that per hospital policy I had to be wheeled out in a wheelchair holding baby. It was funny to me as I hadn't done the hard part of labor, but I was now a mom all the same.

To my relief my ex-husband was a present father and has shown love to our son, even before our son was “old enough to speak/talk”.