Our Adoption Journey: Part 2

It’s taken me over 3 months to write Part 2 after Part 1. That’s because it wasn’t the easiest thing to write.

10 years after Part 1. Somehow, I manage to snag the sweetest, most faithful bachelor on this side of the Mississippi (and maybe beyond that). Don’t know how that happened, but I’m so thankful that it did. Considering the years before I met him, I really should have ended up with a real loser.

We married in September 1998 and bought our first pad the following spring, a cute little townhouse we were so excited to call our own.

Those first couple years were fun years. I was working part-time while getting my Masters’ degree in Biblical Counseling. We had a great small group and were active in ministry together. We were learning to live together and how to “be married.” And, I started dreaming about starting a family.

Mark wasn’t the dreamer that I was about talking about babies. For some reason, he wasn’t oogling over ladies walking by with babies in strollers like I was or thinking about what names would just sound perfect together. He wanted to wait a while.

I still remember very clearly the moment I found my dreams threatened. Mark had a doctor’s appointment, and I was with him. The doctor read over his chart and noticed a childhood surgery Mark had had that he casually noted on the information page he had just completed. The doctor said, “Do you plan on having children?” Mark and I sorta nervously laughed as I’m sure Mark blushed and as I was thinking, “Why is he asking us that? Is it that obvious that I’m dreaming of pink and blue and Mark is not?” He went on to say, “You are likely infertile. You will probably have to use a specialist if you want to have children of your own.”

What? Shock, anger, fear set in. And, we wasted no time with getting more tests done. I had to know.

“It will be nearly impossible for you to conceive.” Those were the words I heard over the phone. And, I hung up and fell to the ground in tears.

“Let’s adopt,” Mark said. “Maybe this is God’s way of telling you to adopt,” my mom told me, “You always had a heart for adoption.”

No. I don’t want to adopt. I want to be pregnant. I don’t want to have some profile that some pregnant girl skims through to decide if we’re good enough. I don’t want to wait forever for a baby. I know someone who waited 10 years to be chosen. And, I want a baby, a little, folded up bundle of a baby. And, we count every penny. Adoption costs thousands of dollars. We don’t have that kind of money. I don’t want to. I don’t want to adopt.