Adoption update

That was fast! We got a call this morning from the adoption agency. Good news: "The review committee loved y'all!" Bad news: they won't let us proceed until we've stopped IVF. Not every agency does this, but my sense is the very best ones do. One point the woman made was that it's very hard on birth mothers, who are already in crisis, when parents they've selected discover they are pregnant. And that makes sense to me. I wish I could pursue multiple channels at once because of my need to have a plan B and C ... and Z. But we're in their system, they like us, and we just have to let them know we're when we're ready.

Next steps

Well, I am certainly glad the last week is over! After a rough couple of days, I woke up Sunday feeling all better physically. A long night's sleep in a luxurious hotel bed without a snoring partner (love ya' babe!) after delicious alone time with my brother and his GF, my BFF, and my parents was just what I needed. Not surprisingly, perhaps, Sunday was a more difficult day emotionally. At brunch with my parents, brother, and his A, the hostess presented a rose to my mother. I LOST it and ran out of the restaurant in tears. It was the first time I had really cried about this miscarriage. It was probably good for me; my practical stoicism is not always healthy. After a hug from my dad and some whining about the unfairness of it all, a mimosa perked me right back up. And I was fine the rest of the day, focusing on my mom and grandmother.

And at Mother's Day dinner, all the women got roses. And it's appropriate, I think, because don't we all "mother" somebody or somebodies?

Then we were on to the next hurdle, having some early skin cancer removed from my back. The procedure went smoothly, though the incision now alternates between stabbing pain, burning, and itching. It's fun ... or not. The stitches will be in for three weeks, which seems interminable. But it's for the greater good, and I'm relieved to have the spot gone.

Today was my post-op visit with Dr. R. Mostly he wanted to talk about politics and the Dead Sea Scrolls. I was like, "Dude! You have other patients waiting. This is not a social call!" But we get good treatment because he likes us, so I can't complain. As I expected, he isn't particularly concerned that we've found only bum embryos so far. He said, "The class of July 2010 is different from the class of March 2010" and made an analogy to my law school students. And it's true, some years are better than others. He also reminded us that only 30 percent of fertilized eggs ever turn into babies and we just need to keep trying to find our 30 percent. He did send me for some bloodwork for autoimmune issues and an updated check on my thyroid. But none of us think that's the issue. We're just dealing with old eggs and bunk sperm and we have to be patient.

He said to call when my cycle starts again. The nurse was, again, horrified, "Aren't you supposed to wait SEVERAL months? He's bending the rules!" Aaah, yes, but it'll be fine. After all, there's a rumor that women are more fertile in the months right after a miscarriage. So shouldn't we capitalize on it? Given how quickly I'm recovering, though, I anticipate that we'll wait two months, starting the birth control in early July and doing retrieval and transfer in early August, just before school starts.

In the meantime, we bit the bullet and filled out our first adoption application, for a very old and apparently well-respected agency in Fort Worth. They have a domestic infants of color program, as well as an Ethiopia program, which are our top choices. Even if we are ultimately successful with IVF in the next six months, we are very interested in pursuing adoption for child #2, so we figured it couldn't hurt to get the ball rolling. But I think we should probably fence the swimming pool if we have any hope of passing a home study. The to-do list grows longer.

Blue Christmas

I love the Christmas season; or more, precisely, I love Advent: the candles, the dark stillness, the anticipation, the carols on the radio, the lights on houses. But starting about 5 or 6 years ago, Christmas Day started losing some of its sparkle. With friends married and having babies, I felt "too old" for Christmas, which is, as Kenny Rogers sings, for kids. That feeling seemed even worse this year, whether because we're closing on in the two-year mark of infertility or because the pregnancy/baby announcements seem to be coming fast and furious. I couldn't even drag myself to church on Christmas Eve. Though the midnight service is not designed for children, there are always infants dressed in Santa outfits or other furry wear. I couldn't face it. Fortunately, Christmas morning brought a flight to Kauai, where I was able to escape from it all. But the blues have lingered. I had thought I might spend part of this vacation working on a "Dear Birth Mother" letter, but I seem frozen and unable to start it. I did spend a few hours on rainbowkids.com and found the cutest little Korean girl with a hearing impairment. I'd bring her home tomorrow if I could!

A tentative plan

It's amazing how helpful typing out the options is! Within hours of yesterday's post, we had a plan. We've got an appointment for a second opinion at the other clinic in town in two weeks. The biggest question we've got for both clinics is whether they would do the local bloodwork and ultrasound monitoring if we do a cycle at CCRM in Denver. That may well be the deciding factor, more than the stats of the respective clinics here. We're tentatively planning to do an initial IVF cycle here in town in February/March. If it doesn't work, we'll head to CCRM in May and cycle there over the summer, taking advantage of the flexibility that comes with our professorial schedules. In the meantime, we'll probably spend some time this winter thinking about our "Dear Birth Mother" letter to submit to adoption agencies. I can't imagine a more daunting task than writing a letter to convince a woman to let us raise her baby.