Infertile Couple Finds Hope From Adoption

The mere thought of having to attend another baby shower with my fake “I’m happy for you smile” was devastating. I was 30 years old and married 12 years and extremely happy with my marriage. I loved my husband with all my heart; he was my best friend.
So, why was I so lonely and so depressed?

A child was missing in our lives and my heart was empty. Everyday activities, which should have been easy tasks, were becoming too painful to bear. I hated making that trip to the grocery store each week because it was evident that I would see numerous adorable babies. Merely walking past the empty bedroom in our house, which we had hoped to one day be the baby’s room, had become dreadfully more painful than I ever imagined. For me, having to attend baby showers was the worst of all.

I worked for a large bank in the south with many women as employees. I attended probably 2-3 baby showers a month. When you are a woman going through infertility problems, the urge and desire to have a child is uncontrollable and unbearable. Baby showers, which usually last no more than 3 hours, seemed like an eternity. Playing cute little name games, drinking celebration punch, and watching a “soon to be” mom open her adorable presents should have been a wonderful occasion to celebrate. So, why did I drive myself home after each and every “wonderful occasion to celebrate” party with so many tears in my eyes that I would have to pull over, catch my breath, dry my eyes in order to continue driving?

My husband and I never imagined that we would have difficulties becoming pregnant. Why should we? As a teenage girl, you always assume that you would grow up, get married, get pregnant and have multiple children, grow old, and become grandparents. Life seemed so simple and so planned. It was not until after I was grown up, and after I was married, did I realize that life is not always simple. There is a plan though! You may not always be aware of the plan unfolding, but it is there. Although I could not see it then, God’s plan for my husband and I turned out to be a beautiful one that I love to share with everyone who asks and even everyone who doesn’t ask.

At the time though, life seemed so unfair. ” Why? Why God? What did I do to deserve this?” I asked. I asked these questions daily trying to figure out if I had done something in my life to deserve this punishment.

I know now that it wasn’t punishment, but when you are living a life of hurt, anger, and sadness, you start to question everything. At times, I even began to question my faith. My husband was my rock, my pillar of strength. Those days that I drove myself home from those baby showers, trying to dry my eyes up before I got home because I didn’t want him to see me cry, he was waiting for me. Words did not even have to be spoken. I would walk through the doors, and he would be there for me with open arms to hug me and hold me. His hugs told me that it was going to be okay. He would whisper in my ear as he held me close that our day was near. He kept the faith for the two of us during a time that I felt like I just wanted to curl up in my bed, under the covers and never come out.

We wanted a baby so desperately! We were ready! And frankly, I was tired of waiting! We had been trying to have a baby for over 6 years, and were unsuccessful. Unsuccessful was not a word in my dictionary that I was willing to accept. So, after many hours of conversation trying to convince my husband that I wanted us to go to a fertility doctor, he finally agreed. I was so excited! I just knew that we would go visit the doctor, figure out what was wrong, he would fix it, and then in 9 months we would have a baby. YEAH!! Life was simple again. Right? Wrong! Once again, God threw us a curve ball and tried to let us know, that was not the plan he had in mind. We spent thousands of dollars, and about 3 years of our lives, trying to artificially have a baby. Once again, the word unsuccessful kept popping up.

It was December, 1995, and we had just gone through our third IVF surgery. It was close to Christmas and we were waiting to see if we had some good news. I had high hopes but the past disappointments were still fresh in my memory and heart. At times, my high hopes got the best of me, and I would spend the next several hours envisioning the many creative ways to present the news of a “little one” arriving soon. Christmas had come and gone, and shortly following was the storm of Mother Nature letting me know the bad news. I was not pregnant.

After this final surgery, my husband and I decided that the process of trying to get pregnant was playing such a negative role on my health and our emotional state that we needed to put an end to it. I actually felt a sigh of relief. I was so tired! My body could not take anymore! In the past, I couldn’t bare the thought of giving up because I thought that meant that we would never be parents. What I didn’t realize was that we weren’t giving up; we were just changing our focus and our ambitions to a different way of becoming parents. I haven’t mentioned this earlier, but both my husband and I are infertile. After my last surgery, the doctors determined that my eggs were “Superwoman” eggs. To those of you who do not know the meaning of “Superwoman ” eggs, this means that the outer shell of my eggs are hard. They are so hard that nothing could penetrate them, and they actually broke needles while trying to inject sperm into them during the fertilization process. My husband is sterile, so with each and every IVF surgery, we were using donor sperm that we had both chosen. Our doctor had sat my husband and me down in his office to talk about the possibilities of donor eggs. There was not much discussion because my husband and I both looked at each other and said, “No! We are already using donor sperm, and now you are requesting we use donor eggs. At this point, the baby would genetically not be from either of us.” Instantaneously, we decided we needed to put our efforts and focus into adoption.

As we later found out, this was the plan that God had in mind for us.
In October, 1998, we adopted a gorgeous 5 week old baby boy who we named Zachary Patrick Crook. We named him Patrick after my brother who passed away in January, 1996 shortly after we found out that our last surgery was unsuccessful. Before he passed, my brother told us that we would be having a baby boy soon. He proceeded in telling us, “What God take away, he would bring back.”

Just writing this story puts goose bumps on my arms as I remember how our plan unfolded. Way before we knew it, our life was already planned. Our purpose in life is to provide a loving, nurturing home to a gorgeous, intelligent boy who may not have had a chance in life if we hadn’t provided for him. I can not imagine our lives without him. He is what completes us. Ultimately, what gives me strength and courage to get through everyday life is just knowing that he is in our life. He is our purpose of life.

I am hoping that as you read this story, you will realize that we all go through some trialing times. We often lose focus when we feel like our world is crumbling around us. I am writing to remind you that we can’t lose focus or faith. We need to always remember that there is a plan. Secondly, I hope that each of you reading this realized the importance of having a strong support team. Without my husband in my life, plan or no plan, my legs would have crumbled beneath my knees and I would not have been able to move forward emotionally or physically. Surround yourself daily with individuals who support you, understand you, provide strength, and make you complete.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


7 + = fifteen