Tingling Breaths
"I paid Christy $50 for her baby, so here is $100 for your twins" I told my older sister Denise as she moved her car over 4 spaces.
"They are twins, which are rarer. So $150 for the two". Denise told me as she started smiling. She is 4 years older than me and wasn't sure if I would spend the majority of my money on twins, especially since I just spent $50 on one baby.
image sourced from https://www.amazon.com/Game-Life-Board-1991/dp/B00DIXGQNG
"Ugh..." I paused to consider the overpriced offer and how at that price I could have 3 babies. "Fine!" As I grabbed another car to move my "husband" peg to another car along with my newly bought twin pegs.
The Game of Life board game is an American game where you "drive" through different paths and events would happen based on where your piece lands. You get married, buy a house, have kids and then retire. The goal is to retire in Millionaire Estates vs the “bankrupt” Countryside Acres. I loved playing that game and for me, my only goal was to get as many kids as possible.
I always knew I wanted to be a mom and have a few kids.
I remember my High school AP English Teacher asking on the first day what career we, the students, wanted. My classmates said the usual Teacher, Lawyer, Scientist, etc. I said, "A housewife with tons of kids." My teacher was so surprised that she asked me to leave the classroom. My school only had about 50 spaces for the AP English class for the 800 students at the school. I told my teacher that I am going to college so I needed to stay in the class and that I was planning on having a career. Especially since my dad died when I was five, leaving my mom forced to get into the workforce in her early 30s with little work experience. I truly wanted to be a mom but I didn't want to depend on my future partner financially.
I met James freshman year of college, we were both 19 years old. We started as friends and we grew close. We started our relationship that summer. We had similar goals of having a career, getting married and raising a family. Something we didn't really establish was the timeline. James' timeline was more like:
Work on career and get masters degree
Get married after feeling financially secure – this was a big one for him, James’ parents are immigrants and worked most of his childhood. James wanted to be different, to be active in his children’s lives
Kids a few years later
Me? Haha, it wasn't even close to his:
Get engaged right after college
Married a year later
Baby on the way a few months after wedding
Gah we were not on the same page. We had the same book, but with way different chapters.
James and I would have conversations every two to three years and agreed to wait so we could provide for our kids. We also talked about including adoption into our plan. I struggled for years with horrible, painful periods. The plan was baby #1 to be conceived and baby #2+ to be adopted. I couldn't see myself having my period while I was caring for a baby. These conversations were the best, we talked about our goals, our wishes and options. It was always good to connect and readjust our expectations and build a future together.
James got his Masters degree, I went back to school to learn to code, and we got married. We both had good paying jobs – way more than what we ever made. Finally that year, 2017, we stopped using birth control! OMG! — Mind you, I was off the pill a year before (to prepare). So we let nature take its course. Everytime my period happened I was a little sad, but still hopeful. We were in love and doing great with our jobs, social life and feeling that we could do it all. My sister Denise was also trying to conceive too. We really wanted to have our babies close in age. Later in the year Denise was pregnant. I was so happy for her, but also disappointed for myself.
Before Denise gave birth in March 2018, I landed an amazing job at Google. That was our big sign to finally kick this whole conceiving thing into high gear. We started being way more proactive. I kept track of my ovulation. James performed on demand. It was strange to go from years of romantic loving sex to mechanical sex. It strained our relationship – it was no longer about us, but about making a baby now. My years of desperately wanting this overtook my world. The first period I got after starting all of this, I was sad. The second period, i was frustrated, the third i cried, the fourth i wept.
We actively tried for a year. Each month my period brought horrific physical pain and deep heartache. When my nephew turned 1, we decided to reach out to a fertility doctor.
Before meeting the fertility doctor, we talked about how I didn't want to do IVF. I was open to getting some assistance, but I didn’t want IVF. I know that these types of things are very personal choices and that there really isn’t the “right” path for everyone, but everyone has their own path. I drew the line at IVF for myself, I really didn't have a reason why but I did – I felt it in my bones.
The end of 2019 we met our doctor. Fertility sessions start off generally like everyone, checking the woman. I did so much blood work that I nearly fainted because of how many vials of blood they took. I also had my uterus filled with saline to check my fallopian tubes, check how many eggs i had and several vaginal ultrasounds. There were no issues; I did have polyps, which in theory shouldn’ affect pregnancy but removing them would maximize our chances. So I had a Hysteroscopy to remove my polyps from my uterus. At that time, James was getting his test down via his primary doctor.
Oh yeah, covid was happening during this time too. The Isolation was horrible. Not being able to distract ourselves with life, friends, family, events or travel made it worse. There was also a ton of news coverage on the violence against the AAIP community. James was very affected by that. He had so much fear of getting sick and of the threat of violence that we hardly left our neighborhood.
James and I's relationship was strained. We weren't fighting but we were overwhelmed and unsure of the future. It was like we were holding our breath.
When we got the call to let us know that we cannot conceive a baby together, we were heart broken.
I felt so desperate that I asked James to consider using a donor - so I can have the experience of pregnancy. This option wasn't one that we talked about in any of our hundreds of conversations about growing our family. I felt like life, and in a way James, owned me for doing "all the right things" and that I “deserved” to get the one thing I wanted. The one thing I always knew I wanted.
I couldn't manage having a healthy, reasonable conversation with James about using a donor. Plus he was still grieving how we couldn't conceive. We started couples therapy to work through my desire to use a donor and James reluctance. After months of couple and personal therapy, averaging about 4 hours a week, we resolved to use a donor.
We went through donor registries for weeks. Narrowing down the donors until we had our final 4. We rarely talked about anything meaningful during this time – it was too hard. It was like we both were walking on eggshells – both not wanting to say something that might hurt the other. It was like balancing a beautiful crystal vase on the head of a needle. Just holding our breath to keep the balance.
We met with our fertility doctor Dec of 2020 to go through the plan. Since my period had just happened, my ovulation would be around New Years. The clinic would be closed and I wouldn’t have access to the medications needed. So he suggested I plan for my next ovulation which would be at the end of Jan or early Feb.
We have a plan. Finally, a plan!
We spent Christmas and New Years alone isolating because we didn't want to run the risk of covid.
I ovulated.
I can't explain it, but there was a moment where James looked at me. It was a look I hadn't seen in a long time. He had so much sadness in his eyes but also so much love. I knew, I knew in my bones that this wasn't what I actually wanted. I wanted to have a James and Jessica baby, i didn't want to do IVF, i didn't want this. I didn't want this. I didn't.
My heart was so heavy. My grief was so deep. I cried for weeks. I cried in bed. I cried in the shower. I cried. I cried. My grief was not just not being able to ever meet a baby that James and I made, or how I wouldn't experience pregnancy or labor. But also for all the pain I caused James for going down the donor path ultimately for no reason.
I told James that I didn’t want the donor. I also told him to start researching adoption. We knew the adoption process can take a long time, maybe years. I didn't even think about how James would feel about all of this. I was so engulfed in my own feelings that I couldn't see outside the pain.
There was a ton of paperwork and forms that needed to be done for adoption. We spent most of our weekends working through all the paperwork.
James and I's relationship was still strained. We were overwhelmed and trying to move forward. It was like we were holding our breath.
It took 16 months before we became "active" for our newborn, open adoption. That means that a birthmother that fits in our APQ (a questionnaire with items like ethnicity, substance abuse and financial need) chooses us for their baby, it's an automatic match.
Once we became active, we no longer had the distraction of all the paperwork and interviews.
It felt like a relief to have the next step in the process not depend on my actions. Now it's the universe's turn. I felt like I could start breathing again.
I worked with my therapist to separate pregnancy from motherhood. I had to mourn the idea that I wouldn’t experience pregnancy or labor. I worked through pulling apart decades of personal expectation that my start of motherhood would begin with my pregnancy. I knew I didn’t want a donor or IVF. I want to be a mom. That was the important part for me.
I started to focus on re-entering the world. I reached out to friends, to family, I joined the board for Girl Develop It. I started to feel like blood was coming back to a life that had fallen asleep. It hurt, but I needed the fresh oxygen.
I wanted to start doing more as a couple, a family like before covid, before our hearts were broken. I tried to reconnect with James. This was the first time in the 17 years together that we didn't deal with a problem together. We dealt with our feelings mainly on our own. We were still strained, not fighting, but not connected.
One night, a little over a year after becoming "active", I tried to connect with James. I pushed harder and deeper than I had in years. James shared how he was not okay and how he didn't feel like he could grieve – how he felt responsible for our grief. It was the first time in years that we were able to share our grief and find comfort in each other's arms. We cried together and took our first breath as a couple in years.
That was a few months ago.
My life and heart are still tingling from finally getting some oxygen after being deprived for so long.
Slow, deep tingling breaths.
