In the early morning of Wednesday, November 6th, I got ready to go to my reproductive endocrinologist, almost two hours away, where I had a test done to see if my fallopian tubes were blocked and causing problems with my feed development. I was incredibly discouraged by the adoption process after what had happened three weeks earlier (and the year before and all the empty, waiting months in between), and hoped desperately that this procedure would reveal the answer to my questions about infertility problems, so the Donor embryos that I had in reserve would lead me to my child.
I was about to take a shower when my phone rang. I could tell from the caller ID that it was my adoption agency, who might call to check on me after the debacle of the previous month. I replied and kept an eye on the watch so as not to be late for my appointment.
“I don’t have any details for you at the moment, but we have an expectant mother who is interested in you.”
It was the third time that I received such a call. Drawn by two painful, failed games, I felt skepticism that quenched the rising bubble of hope in my chest. “Okay …” I remember. My coordinator understood and said, “I wasn’t even go I wanted to call you and just wanted to wait for the baby to be born, but now that the baby could be born every day, I thought you would be happy to receive a notification. “She went on to explain that she had no details for me at the moment, just called to put my head up Power happen. It was the most cryptic call I had ever received.
On the way to the doctor’s office, I had enough time to think about how I felt. I did not know it What feel; Here I was between two vague and uncertain ways that could lead me to my child or gush into the ether before my hope gushed to the surface.
I will spare you the details of the procedure, but the results showed that there was no blockage, which meant no apparent explanation for my endometrial problems. In terms of fertility, I was back in first place, which was even more of a mystery to my doctor than before. When he explained to me what he saw when I sat up and held the surgical dress tightly around my body, I was surprised that I did not burst into tears. As painful as it was to know that the pregnancy door was probably finally closed, I couldn’t stop thinking about the call that morning. When I explained it to my doctor, he was really excited for me; At that point, he had been working with me for four years, watching how one idea or theory after another was dissolved by my uncooperative body. “I really hope you can do it,” he told me when we said goodbye with a hug. “I’m not giving up on you if you still need us to find out, but I really hope you don’t need us.”
Over the next few days my adoption coordinator called me with updates or more information about the expectant mother who had chosen me: T. T was young, only twenty years old and had a two-year-old son, whom she raised her own. Her blood pressure tended to be high, so she came to and from the hospital every time, with the potential to be induced for preeclampsia. That Saturday my coordinator called and said, “She had ultrasound and she has a girl. I thought you might want to know. “The third girl.
My daughter was born exactly three weeks after this first call.
This post has been quite a long one, so in another post I will write the story of how we got together and what that experience was like. But I wanted to update for those who are here and are on the same trip that I was on. I am now the mother of a beautiful, clever, energetic, funny, clever, strong-willed seven-month-old who is the answer to every wish I have ever made. She’s gorgeous. Although we text and share updates, I’ve never met her birth mother, but I love her so much that my heart hurts.
Ah yes, the title of this post. During my adoption waiting period, I got the same fortune cookie fortune on two completely different occasions. They have been in the same place in my fridge for a few years now. They were a reminder to never stop hoping for this one holiest thing in my darkest moments – some of which I’ve shared here. I see her there now and I can’t help but say, “You were right.”
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