Over the last week (possibly two weeks if you ask Russ) I've been having a whine-fest. Unfortunately it's not the kind with grapes and yummy cheese. Through processing all my 'feelings' I've come to some conclusions that have moved me out of whine-fest mode. Some of this post might be too personal for blogland, but there's a crowd of women who are regular readers that are in (or will be) in the same boat, so I'm just going to lay it on the table.
The issue? Pregnancy. No, we're not. We've been home 6 months and have so much on our proverbial plates that the subject hasn't come up a whole lot. Baby #2 has just been a conversation topic when there's a cute kid on TV or an adoption story that is captivating. However, our environment won't let up. In our different circles of friends there are 17 people that are pregnant. How do I ignore that? I simply can not get away from it. Not to mention that while I sit and tutor for 10 hours a week, the picture window we sit at faces a Pregnancy Resource Center so I get to watch people going in and out all day. I am fearful of knowing what's in the little brown bag they leave with. And on top of that,a lot of my friends from Guate have started (and some almost done with) the process for their second child.
One realization that I've come to is the difference between my longing to be a mother and my longing to be able to conceive. Up until this time, I didn't know they were different and I felt a little guilty, with a dash of greediness, that I still desired to be pregnant at some time. The dissonance between enjoying motherhood with Eliot and desiring even more wasn't settling well with me. After processing all that happened with our adoption, it was an odd thing to realize that we were still in the category labeled "infertile". I kinda forgot.
There have been times that I have gotten so self-absorbed in my own pity-party that I've lost sight of who is taking care of me. If I viewed Eliot as our plan B then I can throw a tantrum that I'm without a bun in the oven, let alone any dough in the house. HOWEVER (yes, caps were needed to emphasize the enormity of the transition) Russ and I firmly believe that E-man was God's Plan A for us. If I deviate from this truth even for a second, I'm bombarded with reasons to feel sorry for myself and become ultra sensitive to everything around me. If I set up camp with this truth, the blessings that have been so freely given start to get more vibrant.
I guess no matter what it is, if you look around and see that the Lord freely gives and yet you don't have, you start to question. I don't want to equate the Lord's goodness with the tangibles around me but it's a struggle for me. I want to complain, I want to be sad and frustrated and yet I want to learn contentment and move on. I want to understand the Lord and trust His plan.
Meanwhile, Plan A has a really stinky diaper so I need to wrap this up.
*Pregnancy is a miracle and I'm blessed by all the new life around me! Please don't hear what I'm not saying in this post! I can't wait til all these little ones are running around with Eliot! So many new friends!
*And for those of you who haven't been told yet, a word of advice: don't ever tell people who have adopted that now they are sure to get pregnant, no matter who you know that it really happened to. You may have just given a "back-handed compliment" as the guy on the radio says. You do not know where their heart is and you may just be rubbing salt in a very raw wound. A simple "congratulations" will do just fine.
*There are those around us, in our same circles, who also haven't been able to conceive yet. It goes without saying that this time is hard for them. Pray for miracles, pray for peace, pray for trust and faith, and pray for guidance. The whole infertility and adoption world can offer many options and be overwhelming to a couple that just simply wants a child.
***P.S. I hope that this post isn't offensive to anyone. On one hand I'm trying to be honest with those that share my struggle and on the other hand raise a little awareness for those that are oblivious.