Just a few months into our family-growing attempts, I began scouring Pinterest for adoption articles, adoption blogs, adoption quotes, and adoption announcements. I began researching international adoption, foster care, and domestic adoption. I made boards upon boards for every possible adoption scenario. I wished that Dustin would feel as excited about adoption as I did, but even though he was open to it and prayed about it with me, the conclusion to our conversations was always "let's wait to adopt until after we have kids biologically." Dustin and I both had concerns that if we adopted first and gave birth later, our first child might feel like adoption had been a back-up plan as we waited for a "miracle" baby. We wanted both of our children to know that they joined our family with purpose. Still, I kept pinning adoption stories like a crazy person for the next several years, even finding and following my dream adoption consultants on Instagram. When we were both ready to adopt, I would be prepared.
During this time, my doctor referred me to a specialist for our almost three years of infertility. (Read more about this in Part 1.) The specialist and I understood each other perfectly. He said, "What do you think is the problem?" and I answered, "I think when my appendix ruptured eleven years ago, it left scar tissue and adhesions between my ovaries and Fallopian tubes." (To my first doctor's credit, she had discussed this possibility with me in a round-about way.) The specialist reminded me that the only way to diagnose pelvic adhesions is through surgery, and I eagerly agreed to schedule my laparoscopy for the week after eighth grade graduation. I was beyond ready to get answers. Dustin and I left the specialist's office feeling like we were finally, finally making progress.
A couple of weeks before my scheduled surgery, Dustin and I went to hear his sister Robyn speak at her church. She showed a video about children in foster care and shared the many reasons that she had decided to become a foster parent. She and her friend Steven had set up booths in the church lobby with pamphlets about the agencies in the area, and when the service ended, I was surprised to see Dustin spring up from his pew on a mission to gather pamphlets.
"There are pamphlets!" he kept repeating. "We need to go get the pamphlets!"
I followed him out to the lobby, amused by his newfound pamphlet obsession, and Dustin began his search for the coveted folded papers. Eventually, we said our goodbyes and began the hour-long car ride home. About half-way through the trip, Dustin turned to me.
"I think we should adopt."
His voice sounded certain -- oddly certain. We had always talked about adopting in a few years, but the conversation had never begun quite this way.
"O.k., Dustin," I answered hesitantly. "We can adopt. When were you thinking we would do that?"
"Now."
"Oh! Ok. We can do that. What type of adoption did you have in mind?"
"Domestic infant adoption. Is that o.k.?"
"Um, YES. Do you want me to schedule a call with the consultants I follow?"
"Yes, let's do that."
We scheduled our phone call with Faithful Adoption Consultants that night, downloaded their application, asked our pastor for a letter, sent the completed packet to FAC's prospective client coordinator (on Mother's Day), and waited for the results.
Our acceptance came the day before my surgery. We mailed in our contract and payment to FAC, and then I went home to prepare for the day ahead.
Oddly enough, I don't mind surgeries. I enjoy the leg compressors and the heated robes. I appreciate the grippy socks and the uninterrupted nap time. I like the fact that I have zero responsibilities during the surgery and that the outcome is completely out of my control.
When I woke up from the anesthesia, the specialist came to talk to me. He said that he had found a LOT of scar tissue and adhesions and that he had removed what he could. Unfortunately, he couldn't get everything, and my ovaries were pretty much Saran-wrapped with scar tissue. When I had my follow-up appointment with him a week later, he showed me the pictures again and told me that Dustin and I could have a really good chance with IVF, but that any other treatments would be a waste of time and money, as my ovaries were still thoroughly blocked. It wasn't the news I had hoped for, but I felt surprisingly calm. I had the answers I wanted, I had the closure I needed, and I could now direct my full attention to the adoption paperwork now filling our living room.
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