One Year Anniversary of my Rock Bottom

 It was just about one year ago. The 30^th of August, 2021. It was the first day of our vacation. We had just landed at the airport and were waiting for the shuttle to the resort. As we waited in line, we heard our messages. The latest case we had presented to had passed on us and chose another couple to place her child with. Then, our consultant had given us the news that the mother had not actually passed on us, as she had never seen our presentation. Due to the number of hopeful parents presenting to this woman, it had been decided she would only see have of the presentations at a time. She made her choice in the first half and chose not to see the rest.

We were crushed. Our consultant had then gone on to say that we should all discuss tempering our expectations.

We had been presenting to cases for three months at that time. With each case, we had found it was a highly competitive process. Each young mother choosing to place her child for adoption was seeing 20,30, sometimes 40 couples.

As I have noted earlier in this blog, our adoption journey had followed years of trying to conceive, including multiple IVF cycles that failed from the beginning pr resulted in pregnancy loss.

Upon boarding that resort shuttle and taking our seats, I commented to my wife I did not know how much of this I could take. The “smart part” of my brain knows that not being chosen by an expecting mother isn’t rejection, but that is exactly how it felt. I told her I felt we were in this repeating cycle of failure, loss, and rejection. And each go around, it cut just a little bit deeper.

We had agreed that this vacation would be a good hard break. We could not talk about it for the next ten days. We wouldn’t look at cases. It would be just a good, hard break.

That was my rock bottom in our journey to becoming parents. It’s kind of funny looking back on it how things transpired from there. That in less than 120 days from that point, we would witness the birth of our son. We would be parents. It was only 25 days after that rock bottom moment on that resort shuttle that our lives would change forever. A phone call in the car on a random Saturday afternoon. “You are going to be parents. She chose you guys.”

I feel a little guilty and even a little shame about my feelings when I tell this story. Four months in the adoption journey really isn’t that long. Since then, I have talked to many who have suffered through waits much longer than that. Granted, there was the combined fatigues from trying to conceive and pandemic that added to our pain. On that day in late August, I had felt hopeless.

That was a new feeling for me, as I had been continuously hopeful and faithful throughout the journey. I felt defeated.

That vacation, as it turns out, happened at the perfect time. It was indeed a good hard break for us. A way of hitting the reset button. And it would kick off what would be the more frantic four-month period of my life. Getting everything in line for the adoption. Filing all the legal documents. Getting our medicals and FBI background checks updated as they had expired since we began the process. Preparing for the arrival of our child. Readying our home. Making plans for an open-ended stay in his birthplace.

At the same time, I was studying for my boards (which I PASSED!). We were doing a home renovation.

Looking back, I cannot believe everything we did in the three months from when we learned we were going to be parents, to his birth.

Life has a way of happening at its own pace for a reason. Sometimes we do not see that reason. Sometimes we cannot see it. It is random. It is chaotic. It will break your heart ten ways to Sunday. Then, when you’re least expecting it, the tide will change. It comes off as a meaningless platitude when I give the advice to folks either trying to conceive or stuck in that adoption cycle to “just be patient.” Because I was there, and I know how meaningless that was when people told that to me. Still, sometimes it’s the best I can offer.

I don’t know why life works out the way it does. What I do know, though, is there a thing we can control and things we cannot control. Those things we cannot control, we just need to let it ride. There are going to be dark times. But be confident the dawn is coming. And do not be afraid to take a break. To step back from a moment, and just breathe.

The final thing I will leave you with is this. When I look at our son, I KNOW he is our son. We were meant to be his parents. My wife and I went through years of hell. Years of pain. But if even just one of those TTC attempts worked, of IVF cycles worked, or one of those other parents had chosen us- we wouldn’t be his parents. That is something I cannot even imaging at this point.

This is the family that was meant to be.