I had an eight-year battle with infertility. I got married later in life, at 30. I felt like God brought my husband into my life, so when we married, I just expected the fairy-tale 2.5 children would arrive to make our life complete.
At first, it was okay; I had waited so long to be married, we were enjoying our life together, and it wasn’t something we were worried about. But, when things got serious that we wanted kids, it opened the door to a very painful struggle.
There are so many feelings caught up in infertility. You feel somehow so inadequate; what was once a fun, intimate expression of your relationship suddenly has other people involved trying to “make it happen.” It was humbling, challenging, and even embarrassing. By then, people were asking, “when are the kids coming?” What do you say?
It’s honestly hard to be open about infertility, and so you silently suffer. The hardest thing was being around my friends who had the “oops” pregnancies during this time. It all just seemed so unfair. Each month our hope would rise, and then the disappointment would come. Often I was by myself when the clear evidence would arrive that once again, it had not worked.
My husband and I went on a mission trip to Russia, and we were working around orphans. God spoke to both of us in separate ways, and we believed He was telling us that we needed to adopt. We were at the step of IVF, and when we came home from Russia, we decided to pursue adoption instead.
If we thought infertility was invasive, the adoption was just as intrusive, or even more so. There were classes and interviews, mountains of paperwork, and money due. We had initially wanted to adopt from Russia, but we ended up choosing a Nepal adoption because it seemed we fit perfectly in their criteria, and the adoption agency said it would be a quick, easy process.
The day the first picture of our son arrived in my email was when the reality that I would finally be a mom hit. It was a grainy picture of this tiny baby boy. Little did we know we were only just beginning what would be a long and crazy process. There were delays and unexpected twists and turns in the process, capped off by a 4-month stay for me, alone, in Nepal to get our son home. I often tell people though I never experienced labor as a mom, four months in a third world country with a baby ought to count for something!
I cherish our little family, and I can’t believe my son is almost 17 years old now. Motherhood has been a blessing that I thank God for every day.
People have asked me if you can love an adopted child the same way you love the one you gave birth to, and I say, 100% yes! Motherhood is a precious gift, no matter how it happens.
If you have or are struggling with infertility, you are not alone. I want to encourage you not to lose hope while walking the road you are on. Keep going forward in the direction you feel led; it is worth the journey. ~Amy