One thing I really struggled with was that the fertility problems were all mine, not Rogene's.  I had grieved over my infertility, and made my peace with it.  I could live with never having a biological child of my own, but it hurt so much to know that I was the reason that Rogene wouldn't ever have a biological child of his own.  He never made me feel bad, and was always supportive.  But I felt TERRIBLE about it.  There are no words to describe it.

I had my share of mortifying moments.  People really care and want to let you know they are interested, but they do all the things that make infertile people crazy.  Like saying "relax" and it will happen.  Sign up to adopt and you'll get pregnant.  Ug! 

We actually went to a party (while in the middle of our IUI failures and while I was all crazy-insane on fertility drugs) where the host couple announced that they were pregnant (again!) and then asked me loudly how the fertility treatments were going.  It was a very surreal moment for me.  Of course I was happy for them, but when you are infertile it is hard to hear about how easily your friends get pregnant.  And then to be asked in PUBLIC with lots of friends and strangers around (who maybe didn't know what you'd been up to fertility-wise) was truly mortifying.  It was one of those times where you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole just so you can get out of there fast.

So, I embraced the decision to adopt and started researching it online right away.  We read books, talked to trusted friends who had adopted and picked out an adoption agency.  I was lucky enough to share an office at work with a wonderful woman who had adopted from China and she had so much good information for me.   She was so supportive, it was the perfect environment to be in while starting the adoption process.

We made an appointment for our first pre-adoption class.  We paid the fee.  I knew the wait was going to be long, but I was really excited about having all that time to prepare everything for the baby's arrival.  I looked at the time (maybe 2 years?) as time to spend  with my husband having fun and travelling, setting up a nursery, and anticipating what our new life would be like.  Even though I was a long time infertile (I referred to myself in my head as "Infertile Girl!") I didn't feel a huge rush to get through the adoption process.  I was fine with a two year wait.

Meanwhile, I was really enjoying my restored health after the surgery.  My quality of life (after surviving the hard part) was better than before the surgery, and I felt better than I had in years.  I had struggled with painful cramps every month since I was a teenager, and suddenly that pain was GONE. 

The big day came for our first adoption class, but I was feeling kinda yucky, so we decided to reschedule it.  I was still feeling yucky a few days later and thought that it was a very bad case of PMS.  I finally got out the calendar to see where I was in my cycle and realized that I was late by one day.  I didn't say anything to anyone, even my husband because truthfully, I had a hard time handling my own pain regarding pregnancy (or lack thereof) and really couldn't handle disappointing anyone else on top of it.  No need to give anyone false hope, right?  So I kept my little secret and decided to wait until I was 5 days late.  I should mention that I had never been late one single time, except the first month I started on progesterone… and that was only a side effect OF the progesterone.

So, I sweated it out for 5 days.  I asked my boss for the afternoon off, so I could sneak to the store to buy a pregnancy test all by myself.  Then I went home to take the test. Which I did.  And it was positive.  I had two pink lines in the window instantly.  One line was lighter colored than the other so I even CALLED THE COMPANY that made the test just to be sure.  Then I did two more tests.  To be sure.  I was in shock!  I wasn't on any fertility drugs.  No ART.  Nothing. 

I should note that one of the things I felt infertility had "cheated" me out of was the opportunity to surprise my husband with the news that we were going to have a baby.  Isn't it amazing how God works?  I got to surprise him after all!  Too bad I was such a blubbering mess that when I showed him the 3 positive home pregnancy tests I had taken he didn't know what they meant and I had to explain that WE WERE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!

I just have to stop here and say what a blessing Dr. Meticulous was.  His careful, thorough approach to my surgery and recovery and, well, everything regarding my health and fertility… his God given talent, is ultimately what helped us achieve pregnancy.  You'd think that having one less ovary and fallopian tube would have hurt my fertility, when actually the opposite was true.  God used Dr. Meticulous to get that diseased ovary, fallopian tube and all that endometriosis out of me which ultimately restored my fertility.

After we finally announced our pregnancy to our family, church family and friends, you would totally not believe how many people told us they had been praying for us to have a baby.  God was listening, people.  He answers prayers. 

(The pregnancy, and all its challenges, is a story for another day.)

One of the things I've learned from all of this is that God is good.  He gives me things that are so much better than what I would have picked out for myself, but he does give them in His own time (which is usually about 10 years longer wait than I would like… haha).  I can think of so many examples of this… but the best examples are my wonderful husband and two sweet daughters.

Infertility is something that doesn't leave you just because you've had a baby.  It is part of you.  I still get newsletters and emails from the infertility support group Resolve.  They are a great resource and wonderful support for families going through infertility.  I read this poem in one of their mailings, and to this day I cannot read it without crying.  (I do not know what specific newsletter it was in, and I don't know the name of the author.)  If you have never experienced infertility I don't think you will understand it, but if you have, it really hits you.  (I didn't have a mug, I had a special pen that I used to record my basal body temperature for several years… but the idea is the same.  The pen or the cup or whatever represents hope to you.)

Poem for the Broken Cup

The way I winced as my elbow hit it,
then even before it hit the floor
the frenzy of weeping, astonishing

the children, who stared in stunned
silence for fully five seconds before
the baby wailed in fear and David

joined in sympathy while I dried my
eyes and tried to explain to him, to
ease the terror my tears had caused:

Not the cup, I said, though the cup
was lovely, white mellowed these nine
years to cream, with it's Potter

pictures of Peter Rabbit, and the
sweet frieze of green leaves on the
handle:  not the cup, but it was

yours, I bought it for you four years
before you were born, just at the very
beginning, just when we were starting

to recognize that getting you was going
to take more than simply making
love:  and all those barren years

in Queens, I used to drink my morning
coffee from that cup as though that cup
was magic, as though it could change

things - And I started to cry again,
closing my eyes against his frightened
uncomprehending face:  the scalding

realization that even though I have them
now, these two, the scars of those years
are still with me and always will be:

and standing in spilled milk and shards
of china, crying and not even trying to stop,
scaring my children, I cried "My Cup!  The Cup!"

We've had four pregnancies, three miscarriages and two healthy babies since our infertility days ended (Emma was a twin).  We are so blessed. 

Psalm 40:1 ~

"I waited patiently on the Lord; He turned to me and heard my cry."

**Special thanks to my parents who were very generous with money and very frugal with advice. 

***Thanks also to my friend Stacie who listened to everything I was going through for 10 years (seriously, the nitty gritty details) without judging me and for never once saying something hurtful like "just relax".  When I found out I was pregnant and called Stacie, she cried, and it literally is one of my sweetest memories because even though she had never personally experienced infertility, she really knew what this pregnancy meant to us.