Of Careers, Homes, and Adoptions

This is a post that I have been holding in for ages and ages and ages.  We have had some major stressors on our plate for quite a while now.  Here is the short version:

We had another adoption fall apart (not Rose's - nobody freak out).  Paul accepted a new job.  We are going to sell our house and move in the next month or two.

The Adoption Situation:

Not Rose's, so no need to worry there.  But there was a big part of Rose's story - a possible quasi-twin brother due March 30th in Florida - that I haven't talked about on here before that we were waiting to see what happened and it just finalized itself.  WAY back in August, we were contacted by an expectant mom who was only 10 weeks along.  LONG story short, two weeks later she told us that she had chosen us to be the parents to the baby she was carrying.  She started a blog and posted about us, using pictures we exchanged in emails and texts.  Here is an excerpt from one of her posts:

Seeing the baby through ultrasound was an emotional crash I was not expecting, therefore, I was completely unprepared for the feelings that came rushing in. I decided on a whim to keep the baby. I just love him too much and could not imagine going any further with this adoption process. I decided to put my blog back on private because I didn't want to announce this news to the world without knowing for SURE. 
I've spent the past couple weeks on my knees praying and praying. I have never received confirmation on keeping the baby which became very heartbreaking and frustrating for me. I even got in contact with the birth father to try and work things out for the sake of keeping the baby but I soon realized what a huge mistake it would be to bring him back into my life. Confirmation came soon after praying about adoption and practically begging Heavenly Father to let me know what was right. I want to keep this baby and I probably would if I loved him any less. I want him to have better than what I can provide. Please do not misunderstand what I'm saying, I'm not trying to imply that mothers who do decide to keep their babies don't love their children and I do not, in any way, think of myself as some selfless hero just because I am choosing adoption (I just wanted to make that clear because apparently I have been giving the wrong impression when it comes to expressing my thoughts and feelings. Please understand that whatever I share through my blog is based solely on my own experience).   I feel so incredibly blessed for the Nash family. Amy and Paul are just so amazing and I couldn't imagine any other couple adopting my baby. It just feels so natural, like all of this was meant to be.
I feel this need to validate that I am not crazy (believe me, when you go through failed adoption after failed adoption you start to feel really crazy and wonder what instincts/promptings/feelings you can trust about people and your own intuition and even the Spirit) and I feel like being able to see how she communicated not only with us but with others (she would post links to her blog on her Facebook account every time she posted) explains some of this. 

Anyway, we texted, emailed, skyped, sent packages, etc.  Things got really stressful for her when supposed birthfather issues cropped up (although I'm not entirely sure how much of everything was accurate there based on emails exchanged with the birthfather and his eventual cooperation with the adoption attorney we hired in Florida to facilitate the adoption).  We cheered for her, ached for her, prayed for her.

When she chose us, our profile was pulled from the LDS Family Services website.  But a week later I called our caseworker and told him I wanted it back up.  The wait was too long.  We had already been through multiple failed adoptions where we communicated and built a relationship for 4-5+ months before the expectant mom changed her mind and we were looking at 7 months before the baby was due with this one and I couldn't stomach the thought of missing out on potential opportunities when this one might not work out.  He agreed and our profile was live again in mid-September.  Thank goodness for that inspiration or Tabby (Rose's birthmom) wouldn't have found us.   

The baby was scheduled for a c-section.  We had bought our plane tickets to fly across the country already.  Both this expectant mom and Tabby knew about each other and that the babies would be only 2 months apart and both were really excited about that and expressed how amazing it would be for them to having siblings so close together.  This expectant mom joined a Facebook adoption support group that I am a part of and posted often, including this post that I screen grabbed on my phone the night the baby was born:

The weird thing is that when she posted the above sounding all excited and super gung-ho about the adoption (I mean, knowing it would be the hardest thing she would ever go through and all that but as gung-ho as any reasonable birthmom who has made an adoption plan might seem to be) she had already texted me telling me maybe it was best for us to wait and NOT come out (less than 8 hours before our flight was supposed to leave had we changed our tickets to get there the next day) and when she had already told the caseworker that she was thinking about not going through with the adoption.  I mean, I get it.  She changed her mind.  It happened.  That is totally understandable and her choice and everything.  But it still hurts and it doesn't feel right.  It feels awful. 

It is so hard to know how to explain what I am feeling.  Before I even throw out words, I have to say that what I am feeling is NOT about her.  The anger I feel isn't directed at her.  She had every right - EVERY right - to choose to parent the baby boy she created and I don't begrudge her that choice.  But I do feel anger.  Anger about the situation.  About the futility and unfairness and lack of control or power or efficacy any of us (not just me and Paul but any couple dealing with infertility but particularly adoption) have.  Anger about being chosen FIVE times in a row and spending literally hundreds of hours emailing and texting and supporting and praying and agonizing over the confused and conflicted young women who had told us using every word of surety and promise and conviction that they were going to be the ones to go through with it and place a baby with our family (again, not blaming them, not really.  I'm so, so, so sorry if it sounds like it.  In ways, I am grateful and even honored to have been able to have helped so many women going through the hardest times of their lives in such a unique way.  I'm not even being sarcastic, although I may be gritting my teeth a little bit because it somehow feels like I am flagellating myself by saying that.) 

Adoption really isn't so unlike pregnancy in a lot of ways because during these years there has been weight gain, sleepless nights, sickness, stress, etc. that all correlated with each adoption scenario we were dealing with.  Not to mention thousands of dollars spent covering adoption expenses for the failed adoptions (thank goodness Paul found a tax exemption for failed adoptions that has allowed us to recoup at least some of those costs this year). 

Ugh.  Anyway, I feel like I have only written a quarter of what was in my head when I started out writing this and I feel like I have already written four times more than what I should have written.  And maybe I shouldn't have written anything. 

We are so unbelievably thankful and blessed to have our two girls.  We don't mean to sound ungrateful for the adoption that DID just happen for us with Rose by complaining about this adoption that just DIDN'T happen for us with this baby boy.  We had been asked prior to ever being in a situation where two birthmoms had chosen us at the same time what we would do if that happened and we never had an answer.  A part of me (a HUGE part) felt extremely guilty about saying yes to both Tabby and the other expectant mom because I thought about all the couples still waiting for a baby and I felt like it was insanely selfish of us to try for two babies at once.  In our defense, I will say that we always tried to be prayerful about the decisions we made with how to proceed.  So we are a little sad right now.  But we will be okay and having Baby Rose in our home fills us with so much joy (and keeps us so busy!) that we know the dark little cloud this most recent (and possibly last ever) adoption failure has brought. 

As for future family planning - we just don't know what we will do.  Maybe we will be done with our two girls.  Maybe in a few years we will be healed from the past couple brutal years of failed adoptions and want to try again.  In all honesty, we would love to have a boy - Paul especially.  But we also feel very complete with Clara and Rose and are so grateful that they will have each other (how does anyone get through life without a sister?!).  Maybe we will look into private adoption agencies (that isn't the same thing as a closed adoption - we love our open adoptions) or maybe we will look at international adoption (something that I have ALWAYS been interested in).  Who knows. 

The Job Situation:

So way back in October (on my birthday actually, over lunch at Gott's, the best burger place in the Bay Area) Paul and I had a conversation about his career.  Like, how long he should stay at his current firm, what kind of experience he was getting versus what he wanted to get, and where did he ultimately want to end up.  We have had this conversation every now and then over the past couple of years (doesn't everybody?) but this time felt different.  Lots of lawyers make a move between their 3rd and 5th year and Paul was getting calls from recruiters multiple times a day.  A couple days later he happened to take one of the calls (usually he would just brush them off because seriously, recruiters can be incessant) and connected with somebody who specialized in placing associates with commercial real estate practices (Paul's specialty).  Long story short, he interviewed with a couple of firms in Palo Alto around November/December but the positions weren't what he was looking for.  Then in late January a position opened up at a firm in San Francisco that is THE real estate firm in California.  Like, the top firm in that practice for 10 years running.  It isn't the hugest firm in the nation (fine by us) but they do just what Paul wants to do and are really well respected and basically it was too perfect.  It was a firm Paul had always thought in the back of his mind that would like to end up at. 

He applied and that very day got a call back that they liked his resume and were interested in interviewing him.  He liked the people he met in his first round of interviews and felt like it went really well and the follow-up emails seemed promising.  Not long after that they called to say that they were interested in doing a second round of interviews and set up a schedule for Paul to meet with 14 of their attorneys in the SF office.  That's a lot of manpower to dedicate to a potential candidate so it really felt like Paul had a good shot at this job.  Then just a couple of days before his second round interviews (on Valentine's Day to be precise), the HR person who had arranged everything called to let Paul know that there was an attorney already with the firm who was in another office who had filled the position so Paul's interviews had been cancelled.  We were bummed.  We had already started brainstorming and making plans since the new job would involve a longer commute and/or moving, among other factors.  And we felt like Paul had been doing the job search process since October and it was so slow and a little discouraging.  The news put a little damper on our Valentine's Day to tell the truth, even though they told Paul that he had been really highly thought of and they would keep him in mind for future positions if any opened up.

But not even a week later, Paul got a call from his recruiter to say that one of the associates at the firm had given her notice and they wanted to know if Paul could still go in for the full round of interviews.  The interviews must have gone well because Paul got the offer a few days later.  He is excited about the new opportunity and what it will mean for his career and he starts the new job at the beginning of April.  Which means....

The Housing Situation:

We are going to be putting our house up for sale and moving.  The commute into SF from where we currently live is less than ideal.  It will be around 1 1/2 hours each way most days, maybe more if there is bad traffic.  And that just isn't sustainable for us.  So we are thinking that we will move to the East Bay - maybe around Walnut Creek where there is a BART station (Bay Area Rapid Transit) which would take him to work and drop him off right in front of his office and be a 35 minute commute where he never has to deal with traffic or driving himself (although he will have to deal with some of the crazies who ride BART and any possible strikes, which seem to happen too frequently).  We might consider other areas too though like Dublin or Concord, which also have BART stations although the ride would be a little bit longer. 

In the meantime, we have met with a realtor about getting our house ready to sell.  It will be sad to leave behind this great place after all the work we put into it and all the memories we have here.  It will be even harder to leave behind the friends we have made and the ward that we are a part of because they have been such a support and such a big part of our lives.  It's not like we are moving forever away - Dublin is about 35-40 minutes away and Walnut Creek is about an hour and fifteen minutes or so - but still...

Soooooo, I think that pretty much brings everybody up to speed on all the craziness that we have been dealing with for a while now.  It has been nuts.  We feel like we have been spinning like tops and are probably going to keep spinning while Paul is transitioning jobs and we are figuring out our housing situation.  We are thinking that we might just rent for a while since we don't know the area in the East Bay as well and we don't know that we want to commit to a house until we get a feel for where the best place will be for us.  But we are excited for what the future holds!

The first month getting to know "B" (post #2 of 6)

I already shared how we were first contacted by "B" back here at the start of this series of posts explaining our most recent failed adoption. 

B explained that she was 18 weeks along and had decided on adoption within about a week or two of learning that she was pregnant.  She talked about having a friend and a cousin who had both placed babies for adoption and surprised us with her knowledge of adoption in general.  Clearly she had been doing a lot of independent adoption research.  We started emailing back and forth on a daily basis.

To be honest, at first it was hard writing back to her.  We had suffered an adoption failure just two months earlier after emailing with a birthmom for 4 1/2 months and we knew we were facing an even longer road with this birthmom with 5 1/2 months until her due date.  And believe me, it was daunting. 

One part of my brain was telling me to be excited! be hopeful! be positive!  Another part of my brain started crying at the thought of months of pouring out our hearts and souls and giving support and building love and trust with somebody who may or may not decide to choose us to be the parents of her child. 

This is going a little off track, but if adoption could be related to a distance race, it felt like we had prepared for and run a marathon (adoption failure #1) only to be told that our efforts didn't count and to start over.  So we ran it again (adoption failure #2) only to get within yards of the finish line and be told that those 26.2 miles didn't count either and to go back to the starting line for another 26.2 miles of pain, fatigue, and stress on already overstressed "adoption legs".  Every emotional and mental "muscle" was yelling and begging to stop the pain, but I just. could. not. give. up.  I couldn't quit.

Even though I wanted to.  Even though I want to now.  But not really.  Not truly have I ever wanted to quit when it comes to the idea of having at least one more child.  I've said the words, of course, and thought for moments and maybe even minutes that I even meant them.  But then I look at Clara and know that if ever a child deserved the right to be a big sister, she does.  And I look at Paul and I pray that he will have a son to take on campouts or another daughter to take on daddy-daughter dates.  And I hold a newborn and think I can't possibly not get to experience this again.  (Incidentally, I write this blog from my perspective although Paul has had many of the same feelings and obviously we approach building our family as a team.  Maybe someday I will be able to convince him to write from his perspective what all of this has been like but I don't want to put words in his mouth or alternatively, make it seem like he doesn't have a hard time with any of this.)

Anyway, back to the story - over the course of a few weeks we found a lot of common ground and really started working to develop a friendship.  We were so grateful that her emailing was so consistent - we never had to worry about whether we would hear from her again (unlike the birthmom from adoption failure #2 who would go a week or two between emails).  She told us early on that she was emailing multiple couples, and we understood that - it isn't totally unusual for a potential birthmom to consider more than one couple at the outset of the process.  But we were worried that she didn't have a caseworker to talk to her about the process and she wouldn't talk with anyone from our agency until she had actually chosen a couple.  We felt like having some professional guidance from a licensed caseworker could only benefit her and we were confused why she would refuse such help.

We really started to worry about whether she was scamming us when her ultrasound to determine gender was cancelled less than a week after her first email to us.  Then rescheduled for a week later.  Then rescheduled again.  And again.  Until we had been emailing for a full month and she was at 23 or 24 weeks and still hadn't been to the doctor to determine gender... 

Disappointment #3

Today is the day I thought I was going to be a mom again.

Only a few people knew about this possibility and we kept things pretty quiet on our end so even they maybe only know 1/10th of what we've been going through for the past 5 1/2, almost 6 full months of practically daily emails with a potential birthmom (or potential scammer - I will get to that in another post because it is one of the most confusing and upsetting things about this entire ordeal).  Since Feb. 15th when we first heard from her, to be exact.

Today a little boy will be born in Florida.  Up until just a few days ago, we thought he would be ours. 

We were made promises - promises which we knew when they were made could be easily broken or changed or forgotten about and which we have heard before from others but knew we had no right to expect or enforce or count on.  But still, you hear things in emails like "I cannot stress to you enough how decided I am about having this adoption occur. There is absolutely no chance I will keep this baby to parent. " and texts telling you that she "couldn't have made it through this without you" and the hope starts bubbling up and there is nothing you can do to tamp it down, hard as you try. 

I am so glad this summer is almost over.  My mantra for months now has been to just make it through the end of July.  This baby's due date was the 27th so he is now officially more than a week overdue, which is why she is being induced today.  But for weeks I have checked the flights between the Bay Area and Orlando almost every day to the point where I have them memorized.  It has been agony, this not knowing and waiting and wondering whether this was the time that it would actually happen.  Thinking that there was no way that we could go through a third brutal adoption failure for a third time in a row, especially after so much extended and intensive contact with someone we truly came to care about so very much.

But it can and does happen and here we are.  We aren't the only ones to have gone through this.  But sometimes it feels like it.  I saw this on Pinterest yesterday though, and at first I wanted to throw my phone but then it made me feel a little bit better.

I'll blog more about all of this soon.

What it's like to be Prometheus...

I once wrote a post on our adoption blog about what it is like to be waiting to adopt your first child.  I woke up yesterday morning feeling desolate and thinking of my high school Greek mythology class and decided I should write a post about what it's like going through a failed adoption.  As a disclaimer, there are many, many versions of how an adoption falls apart and so this post is very specific to our failed adoption which happened after the baby was born and we had held him, named him, introduced him to our daughter, taken family pictures and introduced him in person to almost our entire families as well as on Facebook, and loved him as our own for four days.

In Greek mythology, there was an immortal named Prometheus.  He was a Titan and he is regarded for his intelligence and as a champion of mankind after he stole fire for them.  In the western tradition, Prometheus represents human striving and the risk of overreaching or unintended consequences.  During the Romantic Era, Prometheus was regarded as the "lone genius whose efforts to improve human existence could also result in tragedy."  (Note:  I am supplementing my recollection of my Greek mythology class by resorting to Wikipedia.  Not very scholarly of me, I know, but I wanted to tell the story of Prometheus with at least some degree of detail that my brain just won't conjure up for me at the moment.)

Zeus punished Prometheus with an eternal torment for stealing fire and giving it to mankind:  he chained Prometheus to a rock and sent an eagle every day to feed on his liver.  Because Prometheus was immortal, his liver grew back every night and the next day he suffered the same fate of having his liver eaten again.

I feel like Prometheus.  I feel like perhaps I overreached in thinking that this little boy could be my son.  That the idea of an infertile woman like myself having a big family (as if my dream of four children is all that big) was too much to want or hope for.   We felt like our efforts to adopt this baby boy would improve his life, our lives, and even his birthmom's life (even though we knew it would cost her so much to place him - we aren't insensitive to the sacrifice and pain it takes on a birthmom's part to go through placement).

In my mind, the eagle from the Prometheus myth is infertility and she swoops in to pluck out my liver (or my heart rather) more often than you would think possible for someone who has known since she was 15 that she would never be able to get pregnant.  It happened at lunch at Cafe Rio when I literally felt trapped by pregnant women or women carrying carseats with infants all around me - it was a dizzying, sickening experience and I don't know how anyone lives in Utah and gets through a failed adoption with any degree of sanity because of the overwhelming abundance of fruitful wombs. 

I thought I could handle a quick in-and-out at Gymboree to return the things I had bought for the baby so that I didn't have to pack them in my suitcase and unpack them again in California and go through the pain of returning them there.  But when the salesclerk started asking the standard questions of "was the item too small?  was there anything wrong with the item?" I found myself literally doubled over in the middle of the store bawling out the whole story of the failed adoption in an incomprehensible gush of nonsense words and snot while my mom tried to let the poor clerk know she hadn't said or done anything wrong. 

The cursed infertility eagle visited me again at the splash park when I thanked my sister for being there for me this past weekend and being excited for us when we thought this baby boy was going to be our son.  She said multiple times while things were looking so sure and solid that she was "jealous" of me and as I hugged her I started feeling bad for not worrying about her feelings and my mom's feelings and my in-laws and other family members and their struggles going through this too (and their other burdens such as the Utah wildfires that forced my in-laws to evacuate their home the day before the Fourth of July).  I tried to stop the tears from coming there at the splash park, but they came just the same there in the blazing hot Utah sun while the mountains burned black as my heart.

He is a week old today and I can still feel the phantom of the wristband that I wore for three days that granted me access to him in the nursery and it kills me.  I can't scrub off that feeling on my left wrist in the shower no matter how hard I try.

I loathe being this volatile. 

One moment I am feeling strong and can go to a movie with my sister or play with my nieces, and the next moment I feel my throat clench and I am choking back a sob.  I have been trying to keep it together around Clara because I don't want to traumatize her through all of this.  Our sweet girl has just been so, so wonderful this past week.  She just adores her Grandma Cece (probably because she gets anything she wants like walks in her stroller way past bedtime or having grandma pull her out of her crib and read her books until I got home from a movie at 10:45 p.m.). 

And it is not just me either.  Paul had to go back to California and he told me that on Tuesday night there was a knock on the door and our bishopric (local church leaders) had come by unexpectedly.  They hadn't heard that the birthmom had changed her mind - they were just there to talk to Paul about a new calling.  Paul said that he cried the entire time he told the whole story of what had happened.  I am so thankful for our church and for leaders and friends who are prompted by the spirit.

I know that we will heal eventually.  I feel comforted so much of the day - the majority of the time right now, actually, and I feel very close to my Heavenly Father.  I even actually feel the healing occurring in some ways and getting home to California has been the biggest relief.  Reading everyone's comments and feeling the indignation and even outrage on our behalf was a balm to my soul. 

Paul and I worried about being self-pitying until we realized that what we are feeling is not self-pity - it is grief.  And it is okay to feel grief - lots of people grieve and get on with everything else in life. 

Paul and I have a recovery plan though.  It involves temple attendance, a trip to Disneyland for Clara, family walks in the warm July evenings, and farmer's market apricots.  It involves miles on the treadmill for me and maybe even a commitment to do a race in the not-too-distant future.  It involves hikes in the mountains for Paul.  Our recovery plan includes recognizing situations where we know we will hurt and preparing ourselves mentally and emotionally beforehand or avoiding them altogether if we have to (I am thinking friends' baby showers are off-limits for me for a little bit). 

It also involves stepping back from our adoption plans and waiting for just a bit - maybe one month, maybe more - until we feel like we wouldn't totally lose it if a new birthmom contacted us.  It involves editing the previous post (or creating a new version of it and unpublishing the original) and hopefully taking this blog public again. 

Prometheus was eventually freed from his torment.  I know that we will be too.