So Frustrating

I am very proud of my new knee. It has done an amazing job of recovering from a frankly brutal rebuilding. It has been just shy of 10 months since my total knee replacement, and I am finding that I have to remind myself of how that's REALLY NOT THAT MUCH TIME AT ALL. 

Because, I keep having moments where I feel great, and I go for a nice long walk, and then my knee reminds me that it's not quite 100%. Like this past Saturday, when Bryce and I took a walk on a rail trail nearby, and by the time we got back to the road that would eventually lead us back to the house, I was in so much pain that Bryce had to go get the car and pick me up. 

It made me SO mad. 

It was actually sore all day yesterday, and I elevated and iced and stayed off it, but argh! So frustrating! I can't seem to tell what constitutes "too much" until I've overshot it. I can ride my stationary bike hard, and I don't get the same kind of pain, but I don't want to be stationary. I want to get back to hiking, and accidentally going on 12 mile walks like we used to (that actually happened). 

But then, on top of my new knee being cranky, my "regular" knee has started randomly collapsing on me. I step wrong and it feels like under my patella just...crunches and gives way. It feels very much like my left knee felt about 4 years before the replacement. TOO SOON, right knee. That one doesn't have a catastrophic injury like the left one did from high school, but it does have the same shallow patellar groove and arthritis (although less), and I am worried that it is headed down the same path. Maybe it's jealous. 

It is so hard to have patience with my body. My body does amazing things, but it also has a history of screwing me over. A lot. Sometimes I feel like I lost the genetic lottery and I truly am Wednesday's Child (full of woe). And then I realize how ridiculously maudlin that is and I snap out of it. Well, partially out of it. 

I have a feeling I will have my second knee replacement in my 50s (which are only 2 years away, yikes!). I was just really hoping to have some time where I could enjoy the one new one and get back to regularly scheduled activities, but alas. As usual, my body has other plans. So very, very frustrating. 

IVF Terminology in the Media

It has been interesting to see IVF dominate the news with the Alabama ruling on "extrauterine children." Is "interesting" the right word? [Nope]

I wish that the media would use accurate terminology. The number of times I have heard "implant" -- as in "when the doctor implants the embryo in the uterus" -- blows my mind. The word they are looking for is TRANSFER. If doctors could guarantee implantation, that would be a game changer. But alas, all they can do is deposit that embryo into a prepped uterus and everyone crosses their fingers. I would have saved myself a lot of pain and money if it was PRESTO-- implantation. It makes IVF sound like a sure thing. (It's not.) Also, Bryce just said that if the phrasing is that the embryo is "implanted" in the uterus, then the failure falls on the woman when it doesn't continue. Which I never thought of before, and adds to the insidiousness of the self-blame I felt (and I'm sure others did too) when cycles failed.

A NYT article included this bonkers quote (emphasis mine): 

"The statute does not address quotidian medical malpractice claims. If an infertility patient has a dangerous ectopic pregnancy because a doctor mistakenly implanted an embryo in her fallopian tube, she can still sue for negligence, Mr. McMichael said. But among her damages, he said, she can’t claim the destroyed embryo." 

What???? Having experienced an ectopic after IVF, I can say with certainly that that's all kinds of inaccurate. Embryos aren't implanted by the doctor. Embryos travel until they find their spot to implant. Sometimes they go the wrong way. And when they do, there is no recovering, no resuscitating, no saving that embryo because it can't grow normally in a tube. It's doomed from the start. What it can do is kill the woman it's inside. Fact check me, please... I really don't think you can mistakenly "implant " an embryo in a Fallopian tube.

I also heard a journalist on Glennon Doyle's We Can Do Hard Things podcast say that selective reduction is when you choose the healthiest embryo for transfer (although I think she said implant, argh) out of a group. Nope, nope, nope. I feel like actual selective reduction happens less now with Single Embryo Transfer, because it's when there are too many fetuses due to overzealous treatment and for the mother's and potential baby's health, one or more is terminated so one or two can survive to full term. VERY DIFFERENT process and emotional load from choosing which embryo will have the best shot at transfer. 

I don't know why there is such an amazing dearth of fact checking or copy editing in the media attention on IVF, but it drives me crazy. (Not as crazy as the bonkers ruling, which has devastated so many who were mid-cycle when it dropped. Devastating.) I just feel that after this apocalyptic reproductive rights ravaging, they could at least get the words right.

My Childless-Not-By-Choice Response on the Adoption Panel

At the panel for Adoption Unfiltered, I spoke about the importance of including pronatalism and NOT adopting in the book that is, actually, about adoption, which I did not "succeed" at. 

Here is what I wrote that is basically what I said in my allotted minutes: 

Q: Did it surprise you to be asked to contribute your thoughts to an adoption book? Why do you think your viewpoint, and a conversation about pronatalism (Ch 19) – living in a culture that values parents over nonparents – is important in unfiltering adoption?

I am thrilled to be included in the conversation. There is so much out there about adoption success, but so little about walking away. We decided to pursue adoption after years of failed infertility treatments, because it was presented as the next logical step. Also, the thought of NOT being a parent made me want to throw up.

The agency we worked with was endlessly positive, and frequently said “adoption is not if, but when” and “the waiting is the hardest part.” I was not shocked at how many prospective adoptive parents are waiting versus how many babies are “available.” [that number is roughly 1 "available" baby to 55 prospective adoptive parents] We felt that acutely as we waited, and waited; were finally considered, and then were passed over again and again. 

The agency’s response to our longer wait was uncomfortable. We were asked to consider private adoption, which we did and swiftly rejected. It would make me the first contact for women in crisis, which I am NOT qualified for (and I was not willing to leave my full-time job as a special education teacher while we waited). Wasn’t that a conflict of interest, since I had “skin in the game?” We were told the private track increases exposure but not necessarily success rates. In the training we were advised to advertise in laundromats and check-cashing places where women in financial crisis frequent. We didn’t feel comfortable with situations where the only thing standing between a woman parenting her baby and us adopting was access to money and services. It felt predatory. 

Then, we were encouraged to update and open our “grid,” a comprehensive list of situations, race, legal, and medical info. It makes you feel downright fascist putting down what you can and can’t handle as a parent, but it also encourages an honest look at limitations and supports. The grid is not taken lightly, and our decisions were made after a great deal of painful consideration. To open it beyond our comfort level for the express purpose of being considered more often felt…wrong. 

Acquaintances even suggested we lie and include a picture of us in front of a church to appear religious, which might up our chances. If our desire for a baby was the number one factor, if we were willing to become parents at any cost, none of these things would have been a barrier. It seemed the fastest way for us to become parents was to lose ourselves in an unethical swamp.

In that last year before a stress-fueled medical crisis led us to walk away, I had begun reading the adoptee perspective, through the “Flip the Script” publications. While others wondered why I wanted to read unnecessarily sad and angry stories, I found them absolutely necessary. How could I look at adoption as simply the means to the end of having a long-awaited baby, when clearly there are so many long-term ramifications for all involved, especially the adoptee who had no choice?  

After reading Adoption Unfiltered, I hope that agencies and prospective adoptive parents will truly listen to all of the perspectives put forth and make change, for the sake of everyone involved. 

*   *   *   *   *

And that's it. Well, not really. That is the part of our experiences with adoption that I could speak to at that point. Unfortunately I have so many more examples of squishy ethics. Bryce and I joked (in a gallows-humor type of joking) that the harder it is for you to have a baby, the more ethical conundrums you come up against. Then you get into donor egg, donor sperm, embryo adoption (as "placers"), none of it working for anyone, and swiftly moving into adoption as just another way to have a baby as if it is an extension of the fertility treatment process. 

I do worry that my perspective could be looked at by some as "sour grapes," that it's easy for me to to be critical of the system when I didn't end up parenting, that I'm just bitter and grouchy. But that's not at all true. I recognize that it probably wasn't a great idea to have my final canceled cycle and less than a month later have all the initial paperwork filled out with an agency. To jump from one process to another, honestly, because I wanted to parent a baby. I wanted a baby in my arms. I wanted to be a mom. Was my fertility grief even a tiny bit resolved? Resounding NO, even though I liked to think that I had "switched gears." I think as much as I wanted to be a "good" adoptive parent, to throw myself into the process, I also didn't want to think as much about the people who lost out as I "won," the birthmother/father and the adoptee, who would have to be separated to make my family. When finding out more about why babies are surrendered, it felt increasingly icky. When finding out that adoption was an answer more than services for women and families in crisis... that I was basically saying I would be a "better" mom because I had money and resources and I desperately wanted a baby... it got harder to agree. Listening to adoptee perspectives was eye-opening. Birthmother perspectives, too -- I read God and Jetfire by Amy Seek, who placed her son for adoption and flayed those raw nerves wide open in telling the story of the decision making process, the birth parent side of looking at profiles, and the difficulties of navigating open adoption. It is so honest, and it made me intensely uncomfortable at times, which is good. It's good to be uncomfortable because it means that you are opening yourself to new perspectives. It challenged my idea of what it looked like to be a birthmother, what it meant, and all the emotional conflicts inherent in the experience. 

I think listening to a wide variety of experiences, truly listening not just to respond and try to confirm what you want to believe, but to open your mind to stories that don't match the sanitized, one-sided portrayals of adoption in the media -- that is necessary work. Adoption Unfiltered does a great job of providing not just the perspectives of Sara, Kelsey, and Lori, but all of the contributor voices -- and they don't all mesh neatly together. 

I am sad that we didn't get to parent. I would like to think I'd be a kickass mom, and Bryce would be a kickass dad. But I'm also glad that we resolved as we did, and we didn't compromise our integrity to become parents. I'm glad we didn't agree to things we weren't comfortable with or weren't both on board for, for us but also for our hypothetical adopted child and their first family. It was so hard to walk away from adoption as a neatly packaged solution to our childlessness, but that isn't the reality. I am grateful for the decisions that we made, and the life that we live now, even with the losses that led us here. 

It All Worked Out in the End

Last Monday I was supposed to be in NYC, meeting Lori Lavender Luz in person for the first time and speaking on a panel at an event for the launch of Adoption Unfiltered by Sara Easterly, Kelsey Vander Vliet Ranyard, and Lori Holden. I contributed my story to the chapter on pronatalism and stepping away from adoption (Ch 19). How amazing to include the perspective of those who walk away from adoption and live without children in this insanely important book! 

I was so excited to be included and to be able to go... I live in the Greater Rochester Area of NY, but my best friend lives in Poughkeepsie, which is 4.5-5 hours by car and then from there just shy of two hours on a Metro North commuter train to Grand Central. I planned to drive to Poughkeepsie on Sunday, take the train Monday morning, take the 6 train to Union Station, and then walk to Spence Chapin or a location to have lunch or coffee with Lori. Then I'd do it in reverse after the event and then drive home on Tuesday. I was able to finagle those precious personal days. The plan was set. 

Well, I'm used to things not working out as planned at this point, but I was absolutely devastated when I loaded up my car and pushed the start button, only to hear an ominous clicking noise with an eerily dimming light show as if I was conducting a seance in my Subaru. 

Not good.

I tried, and then Bryce said stop trying in car it does more harm, and of course it was Sunday so the dealership wasn't open. So I called roadside assistance. They sent someone to jump the battery, but when he arrived, the battery wouldn't do anything. He said it must be the starter. And I should get a tow to the dealership and figure it out tomorrow. As in Monday. The day I had important plans in NYC. 

I started frantically looking at Amtrak schedules, but my only option was a 5 am train that would get me in by afternoon and cost as much as a flight. And it wouldn't help my car situation, since I had to get it towed Monday morning when the dealership opened. I was pretty much fucked. 

Also, due to extenuating circumstances, I couldn't stay at my best friend's house and so she had booked me a hotel room nearby. I didn't want her to be out a couple hundred dollars because of my possessed car. I tearfully called the hotel and managed to get her a full refund, even though at this point it was past check-in time. I must have sounded very, very sad. 

I was. I cried, I sobbed messily. Not just because of the lost opportunity to speak about our adoption experience and walking away and to be a part of the book launch, but mostly because I REALLY WANTED TO MEET LORI IN PERSON. And Sara and Kelsey, but Lori I've known through blogging for oh, 13 years, and that was my most favorite part of this trip. 

But, I sent Lori what I had written up for my question, in case it was helpful. And also to let her know I was prepared and this sucked all the balls. 

And... She read it, shared it, and they decided to ask if Spence Chapin could zoom me in! Oh wow. Wow wow wow. I crossed my fingers, legs, toes, eyes, anything I could in case this was a possibility. 

On Monday, the tow truck came at 6 a.m. (the roadside service called at 5:25, ewww), the guy checked the car, and said, "your battery is at 4 volts. It is drained." He jumped it... And it started.

This was good because I could drive it to the dealership, especially because it wasn't a flatbed and that really doesn't work for all-wheel drive cars and my garage spot is very tricky to back out of, even when the car is operational.

But it was bad because WHY DID MY CAR NOT WANT ME TO GO TO NYC? I was frustrated. I used my one personal day to take care of my car and get a loaner, since I really wanted to know why my car was behaving this way (it's a 2023, and I didn't leave a light on, so WTF?). I can only surmise that if I had gone, someone would have pushed me in front of a subway train. The universe REALLY didn't want me to go down there.

But then... ZOOM WAS A GO! I was so excited. Bryce was more optimistic than I was as he had said earlier, "make sure you practice just in case." That was good advice. I practiced, I fine tuned, I timed myself, and rehearsed saying my thoughts without reading off a piece of paper. And then, at 6:15, I was let into the event, virtually. 

At first, I was a ghost, in the background but not visible or audible, as the launch screen was up while the authors spoke about the book and read from their sections. Then it was time for the panel, and I saw them putting the screen together... And then thought, don't be the whole screen, don't be the whole screen... Aaaah nooooo it's the WHOLE SCREEN!

Behold, my giant head, looming over the in-person speakers.

 

I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ!

I was on that screen for no joke, 45 minutes. Lots of nodding and trying not to touch my face. 

My 2-3 minutes went well -- I couldn't hear anyone who wasn't mic'd and I couldn't see the people in the audience, so I had zero feedback. I didn't know if people were receptive or thought I was a jerk. I started with a joke about my giant head, which apparently people laughed at, but I had no cues for how to react. So I answered my question and retold our experiences of questionable ethics that likely make our wait longer and our exit inevitable (but kept our integrity intact). 

My question, courtesy of Lori:  Did it surprise you too be asked to contribute your thoughts to an adoption book? Why do you think your viewpoint, and a conversation about pronatalism (chapter 19) -- living in a culture that values parents over nonparents -- is important in unfiltering adoption?

The panel was AMAZING -- adoptees, birth mothers, adoptive parents, the author of American Baby, (and me). The questions the authors designed wove in and out of our disparate but connected stories and authorities. It felt seamless, and very powerful. 

I was so proud to be a part of it, and so bummed not to be there in person to chat with people after. But also so grateful that they were willing to zoom me in to share my fringe-y perspective on the need for reform in adoption. 

Later, Lori let me know that it went really well. I was not a jerk, I was apparently well-spoken and a perspective not often heard. I was framed as "brave" for sharing experiences that showed our adoption agency in an unfavorable light (not that I named them or have ever named them). I didn't feel brave, although maybe in person I would have, given it was hosted at an adoption agency. I just feel it is so important to be honest. Even if it is uncomfortable. 

What an amazing opportunity. What a great experience. Thank you, thank you to the Adoption Unfiltered team! And, if you haven't already, go read the book *-- it is incredible and important and makes for excellent windows and mirrors. I learned a lot about different perspectives and experiences, especially the birth mother side of adoption. I am so proud to be even a tiny part of this amazing project and movement. 

*Also available at Amazon, but if you can support an indie bookstore through Bookshop.org, please do!