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Today, as I posted earlier, I delivered a woman who is giving up her baby up for adoption. It was an incredible birth. She was strong and kind throughout. You tend to see what someone’s true colors are when they are in such a painful, exposed place. The father of the baby held her hand throughout the labor and cried when the baby was born.
They asked me what I thought of adoption. I am an honest person and told them that someone in her situation gave me the greatest gift ever. I also know the huge sacrifice that she is making and how it would effect her life. She was confident in her decision, she just hadn’t picked the family yet.
I went to go take care of some other ladies, and when I cam back, the mom and dad asked me if I would like to adopt their daughter. I could have cried. Because of ethical reasons, I am not allowed to since I care for and delivered her. It can be seen as coercion. I am thinking so much about what has brought me to where I am today and how I am a mom.
Do I want another baby? yes. I would do it in a second. It’s just not in my cards. I always thought that I would have 3 or 4 kids and the thought of endometriosis, laparoscopic lysis of adhesions and removal of 12 centimeter endometriomas, laparoscopy, clomid, Injectables, hysterosalpingograms, multiple Invitro Fertilizations, repetitive pelvic sonos, blood draws, egg retrievals, sperm counts, sperm wash, intrauterine inseminations not to mentions a sea of tears and my life savings getting in the way of that dream, never crossed my mind. Before I knew it, I was 33 years old, 265 pounds and 8 years into trying to make a genetic baby that would never exist. The infertile midwife. The ex was supportive. He from the beginnig told me that he was not committed to having a genetic child. I explained to him that it was process and not the genetics that kept me trying. I wanted to grow a baby in me. I wanted to be sick and have my coworkers bring me their tried and true tricks for nausea. I wanted the attention. I wanted the glow. I wanted the feeling of feeling a fetus move in me before anyone on the outside could. Mine. A part of me that couldn’t be denied. I wanted to see what my body could do. I wanted to feel all of it. I wanted to birth at home with my husband, our moms, our sisters and my BFF. A circle of women and strength. Women who made me laugh. Women who had done it before and their proof was my siblings, my husband and my nieces and nephews. I wanted to let go of my knowledge and surrender my self to a woman I loved and trusted whom I know would manage my labor the same way that I would manage hers. I wanted the last contraction where tears of pain turned into tears of joy and laughter. I wanted to bring my child up and have her latch, continuing the circle of her dependence on me for life.
That wasn’t meant to be. I never got angry about my own situation until someone said what a good person I am and that God would give me a miracle. I would get snotty and tell them how God had given me Endometriosis and now he needed to figure out a way to take it back. Then my witch sister in law got pregnant. Nasty Witch. She did IVF once. ONCE and had twins. WTF. If there is a God he would NOT choose this bitch first!! lol! I was a mess.
One week after my last failed pregnancy test, we were financially tapped out, couldn’t afford anything else, I walked in to labor and delivery and my friend said, “Your baby is in the nursery.” I walked in and in the warmer was the most beautiful, rosy lipped delicious baby girl I had ever seen. I walked up to her and said, “There you are. I’ve been waiting for you. I get it now.”