Monday, March 13, 2017

Fostering Growth

Does the feeling of wanting to be a mother ever subside? Does it turn into a calming sense of relief knowing it is not going to happen? Nope. Not at all.

There are definitely times where I look and reflect on my life and am 100% sure I'm where I'm supposed to be, doing what I'm supposed to be doing.  But those moments pass and then I find myself 100% sure I'm supposed to be a mother.

This last weekend, my amazing husband and I took the first set of classes to become foster parents. We went to Pullman a few weeks ago and took our infant CPR/First Aid class, and next weekend we will complete caregiving course.  It's 24 hours spread out between two weekends, so both Saturday and Sunday, we sit in a room and learn about "the system" and other important topics surrounding Foster Care.

At this point, I have set an age range that I'm comfortable with.  This could change.  We could also be up to foster siblings, but at this point, I just need to know how it all works, and I should probably stick to one kiddo at this point.

This is something we've talked about for over 5 years, and it all comes down to timing.  It seems in the past, the timing wasn't right.  Since we live in a small town, the classes offered are at random dates during the year, and it just seemed like we already would be out of town, or something stopped us from signing up.

Well, the timing is now matching up and we've completed over 1/2 of the classes needed, and we are turning in our paperwork this week to get the background check and home visits taken care of.

This decision was made over many long discussions between us and our families.  We know this is going to be hard.  We know that reunification is the number one goal of the foster system.  That will be the hardest part.  Letting go of someone that has been in my care for however length of time will be hard.  Super duper hard. But this isn't about me.  This is about giving a human the best home/snuggles/eye contact/care they need at that moment in time.

I'm going to need your help, guys.  I really am.  I'm going to need support because I've never been a mom.  I've never had a child in my care for an extended period of time.  I'm going to ask a lot of questions to my mom friends.  I may even need some of your old baby clothes, as I don't know ages until they call me.  So I will need all sizes for both genders.  I will need books, toys, and all the essentials for caring for a baby or toddler.  

Thursday, June 4, 2015

My inner struggle

Since finding out the news that we won't be having a mini Rodney/Blake human to raise, I've had many conversations with myself.  Some, quiet, in my head.  Others out loud to Lola (really just me talking to myself...lets be serious).

I've gone through the grief process.

Step One: Denial and Isolation

Since there's no denying a test result, I had to accept the truth.  If we created a human, most likely it would have the HD gene.  But I did go through the isolation.  Literally by.myself.  My husband has been out of town during the weeks working.  So I was completely alone with my own thoughts and tears.  My parents were also out of town, (actually with my husband so he got to have them with him when we found out the results) and when I got the news, I took the day off. And the next day.  I sat at home.  Well, actually I laid in bed.  I laid in bed with my phone on speaker talking to my siblings and my best friends.  It was tough.  Real tough.

Step Two: Anger

I was so angry. I was pissed off.  I was trying to take my mind off of it, so I watched TV.  I've never seen so many pregnancy commercials in my life.  Diaper commercials.  Happy family commercials.  DUH.  And don't get on facebook.  Its full of pregnant friends.  Or friends with newborns.  I'm still mad.  I'm mad that HD exists.  I'm angry that 8/10 embryos had HD.  I'm angry that the other two had other chromosome issues.  I'm angry that the doctor told me one of those 2 was a girl. WTF. I really didn't need to know that.  I'm still angry.

Step Three: Bargaining

Its like an inner struggle in my brain that was trying to figure out how I could have prevented this outcome.  How I could have made it different.  If I had only.... then I realized it is what it is.

Step Four:  Depression

I'm not a depressed person.  I've always been a very happy go lucky girl.  If I get down, its only for a little bit.  And then I laugh, and I snap out of it.   This was hard to snap out of.  I realized that people don't want to be around a depressed person.  I know I don't.  They are total debbie downers.  And debbie downers are down right annoying.  So I tried.  But for the first time, I honestly felt depressed. I had big plans for this summer.  I was going to be pregnant.  I was going to have a baby in early 2016.  I was going to be a mom.

Step Five: Acceptance

I have accepted the outcome.  Part of me knew already.  Because the first 4 were tested and 3/4 had HD.  So part of me knew it was very possible.  The only part of this that I haven't accepted yet, is the part where I don't ever become a mom.  I still believe I will have a child.  I just have to accept it won't be my husband's biological child.  Which is ok.  We've been through all this before.  And we've come to terms with it already.  We actually were completely ok with it, and then the IVF offer came along, and we got our hopes up again.

I cry sometimes.  Not often anymore.  Mostly its just waves of emotion that all of a sudden arise and I find myself crying.  Like that video of the couple that gets makeup to look like they're 80.  When I watched that I realized that I won't be a grandma.  And I'm really good at crocheting.  So thats completely unfair.

But maybe I will become a grandma.  I mean I'm only 33.  So I could still become a mom.  Thanks to the anonymous commenter on my last post.  I do understand fully that there are still many ways of becoming a mom, getting pregnant, yada yada.  I just think I need to take some more time to figure it all out.  For now, I'm focusing on being the best Blake Alexandra Harrington this world has ever seen.

Thursday, May 21, 2015

A few things never to say to me

1. "It'll happen".  First off, you don't know that.  So how is that even comforting or reassuring?  Plus, now that we know that IVF isn't the route we can even take again, it literally WILL NOT HAPPEN.

2.  "You don't want kids anyway.  They're sticky, needy, and just ruin your stuff."  I won't argue with those three points, because they are all very true.  But I can tell you're just trying to be cute.  And unless you want to give me your kids, like for reals, then don't say this.

Which brings me to my next one.

3. "You can have mine".  Again.  Unless you are 100% serious, and cannot take care of them anymore, or don't want to take care of them anymore, then do not say this. Because I will take your kids.  And raise them as my own. As if they arrived via vagina. My vagina. And if they're old enough to know better, then I will tell them their parents didn't want them anymore because they were too sticky, needy and ruined all of their stuff.

4. "It's just meant to be." So what you're saying is, my husband was meant to have one of the worst diseases known to man and we were meant to spend thousands of dollars to have it not work out? Thanks.

It's not that I don't believe in the world playing out just as its supposed to.  I some extent.  What I believe is that we have to try our hardest to make the things we want to happen, happen in life.  We have to work hard, play hard, love hard.

How about things TO SAY to me?

1. "Life is f*cking unfair."  You can leave the f word out.  No big diff.  Here's something I can agree with, and its not going to hurt my feelings, or piss me off.  Life is very unfair.  It times.

I will be the very first person to say my life has been amazing.  I had THE BEST childhood.  I don't know anyone with a better childhood than me.  And I'm not trying to brag.  Its just how I feel.  I would not change one part. (well maybe the bullying I dealt with as a kid, but maybe not) And from 18 on, my life has been just as great.  Married now for 11 years to my bestest friend. Have Lola Rae.  LITERALLY THE BEST DOG.

So is this where life says, "ok. enough's enough.  you need something to bring you back to earth.  you need a wrench thrown in."??

Is this where I say, I've had it all. Until now.  ???

I'm in a strange spot right now.  I'm feeling like the world is purposefully trying to piss me off.  Like where did all the diaper commercials come from? And all my friends are posting pics of their kids. Like, all of them.  And they won't stop having kids either.  They just keep procreating.  And their kids keep doing/saying cute things to rub it in my face.

Obviously the last paragraph is a complete Debbie Downer moment, but if they're posting all these "Like if you have the best daughter" pictures, and recital pics, and funny kid quotes; then why can't I post what's going on in my life?

Did you see that video of the couple that aged with makeup and then they revealed how they would look?  I did, and immediately started crying at the thought of me never being a grandma.  I actually wrote on a friends post but erased it.  Because.  Because no one wants to read some sob story/negative and/or vague comment.   And the ones that do, are just FB stalkers and want to know every detail of friends of friends' lives. Thats just how facebook works.  People get unfriended over comments.  And believe me.  It's not about the "friendship" because I could probably do without 1/2 of the "friends" I currently have on FB.

It's about showing your flaws.  Showing your vulnerability.  Sharing your flaws.  Sharing your vulnerabilities.  Sharing with the world that you failed.  You failed at procreation.  Something that the crack head on Bridge Street seems to be very successful at numerous times.  Not to say she is less deserving of a child than me.  That is not where I'm going with that.  Its just very hard to see filthy, shoe-less kids walking with their obviously-on-drugs mom down the street when you're struggling to even have one.

The point I'm really trying to get across, is this.  I want to talk about it with you.  I really do.  But I don't want it to be in the form of positive cliches.  Lets just tell it like it is.  That's what won't hurt my feelings.  If you don't know what to say, then say exactly that.  Lets just agree that life does not always go according to your plan, no matter how much you've willed it to happen.  Let's agree that life is still great, beautiful in its own strange way.  Let's agree that our friendship is important enough to always support one another in a very real way.

I always want to say this:  If you've said one of the 4 things that's on the never list, I'm not mad.  It just irritates me inside because I don't agree with those statements, and they sounded comforting in your mind, but in my mind it was like nails down a chalk board. I still love you and value our friendship.  I've been there.....when its hard to know what to say.  I just want it to be out there and educate people on what I personally would rather hear.  Sometimes its just best to not say anything, or just simply say, I love you.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

33 years

My 33rd birthday is May 28th.  

My mother was 33 when she had me.  Growing up, she would always say that 33 was the perfect age to have kids.  She felt the most ready.  I'm her 4th, so that could also have something to do with it :)

As my 33rd year approached, I thought, "wow.  I'm going to be a mom at 33. It was meant to be."

Now it just makes me cry to think about it.  I won't be a mom at 33.  I might never be a mom.  I probably won't be a mom. I won't ever be pregnant.  I won't ever breastfeed.  I won't ever know what it's like to see yourself in a child.  See the same nose, or eyes, or pass down my left handedness.

I'm throwing myself a party.  A pity party.  A party of one.  You probably wouldn't know the hurt inside of me by looking at me, or talking to me.  I'm a pretty positive, outgoing person, who likes to please others.  And no one wants to talk or hang out with a crying, depressed person who is only thinking about one thing.

So, maybe for my birthday, I'll just throw myself a bigger pity party, and invite some of you to join in.  Wow.  That sounds like fun. Not.