How to share your child’s adoption history with their teacher
This was written by Linda Jones, a member of the Creating a Family Facebook Support Group. She so beautifully captures in her words what we frequently say — adoption is not a cure for infertility. With her permission, we share her words.
Infertility has left its impact on my life. How could it not?
5 years of infertility.
4 failed IVF treatments.
10 embryos who never even had the chance to grow in my womb.
And then, a miracle adoption. Our son was a stork drop situation. We got the call and one week later he was in our arms. He’s more than we could have ever hoped for. He is the most amazing, sweet, beautiful, smart, loving little boy. We are in love with him. And if you saw this picture, or saw us out in public, you wouldn’t have any idea of all the pain we experienced to get here.
Or even the pain we still experience.
You see, even though our son is such an incredible blessing from God… he doesn’t erase the infertility pain. He doesn’t cure my broken womb.
I recently noticed my period was about 7-10 days late. And I wouldn’t have even let myself entertain the thought of pregnancy if it weren’t for the fact that I am VERY regular. Like, you could set a clock by my cycle. So, I decided to take a pregnancy test. The last time I took one was 6 years ago during an IVF cycle. I felt hot and sweaty and anxious as I watched the test process. And I felt that old familiar pang when I saw the one solid line.
Why does it still hurt? It makes me feel like I’m not grateful enough for my little boy. But I know that’s not true. I love him more than life. But I think there will always be a part of me that grieves my empty womb. There will always be a part of me that wishes I could experience the excitement of a positive test, the joy of telling my husband the news, and feeling a baby move inside me. The labor & delivery part I’m fine missing out on, lol. But oh, there’s so much loss with infertility. It just sucks.
After the negative test, I went home and cried. And my sweet 18-month-old son ran and hugged me and said “happy!” (This is something he does, if somebody is sad, he hugs them and says “happy” to make them feel better). And I instantly felt a hundred times better. I still can’t believe I get to be this sweet boy’s mama.
And I never would’ve had this exact child if it weren’t for my broken body… so you know what? I’m thankful for my infertility. Yes, I’m thankful for it. But the hard days suck.