My religious dilemma

I was born Catholic, baptised Catholic, and raised Catholic.  I went to church every Sunday throughout my childhood.  If you asked me today, I would still say I am Catholic.  I have belonged to a Mommy's group at our church.  Both of my kids are baptised Catholic.  I still get a sense of peace from attending church.  I receive our church bulletin by email every week and I make a weekly donation to our church. 
But I do have some issues.  The Catholic church has many beliefs that are a struggle for me.  I believe that everyone is equal even if they are gay. I think that there are situations when divorce is absolutely the right thing to do.  And I believe in fertility treatments.  (Oh yeah, and for those of you who need it, I think birth control is useful too.)  One of the great things about the Catholic church is the amazing ability to be forgiven of your sins.  All you have to do is admit them to the priest, say the recommended prayers and all is forgiven.  But what if I don't want to be forgiven for undergoing fertility treatments?  My personal issue is with the fact that I am sure that God loves Jack.  So if he or she does love Jack, how can the creation of Jack be wrong?  I realize that these doctrines change throughout the years and that religion has come a long way...but still, I have a hard time getting past this issue. 
My husband belongs to the United Church.  Between the two of us, I am the more religious one, although he also attended church throughout his childhood.  I have been to the United Church enough times to feel at home there too.  I like the fact that they don't discriminate as much as my own church...but it is not home.  It just doesn't give me the same sense of peace.  I understand that this makes little sense to non-Catholics.  Why would the repetitive sit down, stand up, chant after the priest ritual give me peace?  I can't explain it.  It's just where I belong.
Okay, I have to admit, it's not all the above issues that have me not in church every Sunday.  We used to have the most fantastic priest.  He read the bible, but also gave information about actual real historical events that either proved or disproved the writing in the bible.  He was a fantastic man who spent his days counselling inmates, drug addicts, and inner-city families.  I know he made a difference in the world.  And I am sure in his spare time he played poker and drank beer.  But he got through to me.  His message made sense to me.  Our new priest is great.  He's from Africa and has a wonderful accent.  But his masses are at least an hour and half long.  It's just too long for two little kids.  Lily was really good at going to church...Jack is not.  And it's not his fault.  I always said that you could tell at Christmas which kids don't go to church on a regular basis.  I have created one of those kids.  The other thing is that I have limited time with my family now that I am working fulltime.  Jack sleeps most of the afternoon.  If he spends the morning at church and the afternoon asleep, when do we go to the zoo, or the museum, or the Fun Factory?
I always said I wanted to take my kids to church because it helps to build morals.  I think I am a better person because I went to church regularly.  I wanted my children to be baptised because of the religious implications if they weren't.  (Although I truly do not believe that my friend's unbaptised kids are destined for hell!)  I was married by a priest in a church because it was important to me to do so. 
So, that's my religious dilemma.

So good and so bad that I actually threw up...a true story

Before I tell this story, I want you to know that I do not dislike nurses.  In every profession there are great ones and not so great ones.  I have friends who are nurses.  And honestly, without Sandi (our delivery nurse), I'm pretty sure Jack would never have been born.  Now for a bit more background information....before my kids were born, I was terrified of newborns.  I was not one of those people who wanted to cuddle the new baby or hold the baby at the baby shower.  We didn't have little kids in our family and I hadn't babysat in many years so babies completely freaked me out.  I was so scared that we would get to the hospital and Lily's birth mom and the nurses would think I was inadequate and that they were never going to let me take her home.  I shared this fear with our adoption worker and she said that everyone was going to be helpful and understand that it was a stressful situation.  Lily's birth mom was amazing....the nurses were not.
We arrived at the hospital at 9:00 pm.  It was past visiting hours but no one cared as everyone was awaiting our arrival.  We met our daughter, held her, fed her and then decided to leave for the night.  They didn't have an extra room for us and Lily was rooming with her birth mom so we couldn't stay at the hospital overnight.  It was hard to leave our baby girl, but we could tell she was in great hands with her birth mom.  It had been a stressful, wonderful day.  We had no idea what would happen next.
When we arrived the next day we were immediately approached by the nurses and were told that we could not take Lily off of the ward.  It wasn't what they said, but how they said it.  We knew that they were concerned with our arrangement.  We had custody papers signed that said that we were the ones who would make medical decisions for Lily, but we were completely ignored by all hospital staff.  One nice nurse secretly told us that they were afraid to talk to us in case our adoption was illegal and they ended up being involved.  We had two options...we could stay in the birth mom's room (a very shy woman who had just given birth the day before and to whom we were complete strangers) or we could sit with our newborn in the drafty, noisy and bright waiting room.  We were uncomfortable in both so we went back and forth between in search of some comfort.  Lily was a needy baby and would not stay asleep if she was put down.  I of course took this to mean that I was unable to put her to sleep or comfort her, which made me worried, which she detected and became upset.  No one at the hospital would talk to us so we had no idea if we were allowed to dress her in our own clothes, how much to feed her, or how to bath a baby at all.  The nice nurse secretly took us into the back of the nurses' station to show us a video on bathing and let us stay in there for some privacy before we were kicked out by other nursing staff.  When the nurses came to check on her we had to take her back to her birth mom's room and they would talk to her and completely ignore us.  We were discharged by the doctor but were told we couldn't leave until the hospital social worker spoke with us.  They kept Lily and her birth mom admitted another day so a meeting could be set up with the social worker who didn't work on the weekend.
After an exhausting, exhilarating, wonderful, terrifying day, we decided to stop at Shopper's Drug mart on the way back to our hotel. Standing in the baby aisle, I suddenly became so overwhelmed by the day and by all the different baby stuff.  I ran to the counter and asked where the bathroom was.  You could tell that the bathroom wasn't for customers but they let me in anyway.  I think they knew I was going to throw up.
While I shared my lunch with the Shopper's Drug mart toilet, my darling husband picked out the cutest Winnie the Pooh diapers (I love Winnie the Pooh).  We stocked up on formula, wipes, bottles, etc and headed back to the hotel.
The next morning the social worker came to see us.  She apologized for our treatment, spoke with Lily's birth mom about her decision, and then tuned in some nurses for our treatment.  Suddenly everyone was our friend and everyone wanted to teach us how to feed her and bath her and how to put her in the car seat.  It was so hard not to tell them to go to hell, but it was information that would help Lily over the next few days, so we smiled and nodded instead.  It was finally time to go and the nurses did their final assessment on Lily.  Guess what...her temperature was up and they would need to check her again in two hours.  Again, we were stuck in the hospital.  Lily's birth mom desperately wanted to get back to her family, but they wouldn't discharge her until Lily was ready to go.  She missed the plane back to Nunavut and was stuck for another day.
Finally all was well and the four of us took the elevator down to the lobby.  We hugged Lily's birth mom and drove off....back to the hotel because it was too late in the day to drive home.  Scott headed to Toys R Us to purchase more stuff...babies need a ton of stuff, and I sat in the hotel room cuddling my daughter....still pretty scared of newborns but with definite improvement.

What I learned....when they threatened to call Social Services on us we should have said to go ahead.  Of course we were afraid that our baby was going to end up in the "system" but in hindsight, they probably could have helped us. And we weren't doing anything wrong.
Highlight of the weekend...beside of course becoming a mother and calling my family with the news, I thoroughly enjoyed calling my work to leave a message.  Because a prior adoption attempt had failed, we were really shy about telling anyone about this prospective adoption.  My work had no idea.  This was my message, "Hi, it's Lindsay calling.  I am calling to announce the birth of Lily.  I won't be at work on Monday....or for the next year.  I'll call you when we get home."  How fun!!
Meeting Lily and becoming her mother was absolutely amazing.  Nothing could have ruined that for me...no matter how hard they tried!!

The difference between created and acquired

I talk to people struggling to create their perfect family all the time.  It's just that you don't always know what the perfect family is in advance.  You may want all girls and get all boys.  You may want one of each and get all girls.  You may dream of twins and have an only child.  You may shiver in horror at the thought of having two babies at once and joyfully raise your triplets with ease.  You all get the point. 
I have one brother.  I am happy to have a sibling and we have had a great life together.  Without him, I wouldn't have had near as much fun (or the chicken pox scar on the side of my face...but that's a whole different story.) I have fond memories of camping, playing in the park, and swimming at the pool.  It is because of him that I knew that I wanted more than one child.  I wanted my children to enjoy life with a sibling as much as I have.  But I always thought that my parents should have had more kids.  (Easy for me to say...right?) My mom and dad both come from bigger families so I have lots of aunts, uncles and cousins.  Christmas and Thanksgiving was never a quiet affair growing up because we had lots of family around to help us celebrate.  And that is how I formed my idea of the perfect family...at least three kids, possibly five.  Probably all boys because I'm not big into frilly dresses or pig tails and because I remember my mom combing out my super long hair after a bath....ouch!! 
I have the perfect family.  I have a girl and a boy...not at all what I had planned.  And I can guarantee you that I always assumed we would have them the good old fashioned way.  I was a bossy kid when I was young (maybe I still am?) and my brother was fearless.  My kids are the same age difference as my brother and I are and in the same order.  Lily is the bossy one and Jack is fearless.  It may be a coincidence, but then again it could be birth order. 
Regardless, I can tell you that I never thought my children would be adopted or invitro kids.  While our story tends to be one of interest, I want to take a moment to share the fact that it doesn't matter if your kids are created or acquired.  I have a wonderful story to tell about meeting Lily for the first time and an extended family created by a relationship with her birth family.  I have ultrasound pictures of Jack and the memory of hiccups from within. Both experiences are memories that I will cherish forever.  Completely different, but equally important.  I would love to have had the experience to carry Lily in my belly, but I think it was easier to become her mother without the healing or exhaustion of labour and delivery.  And I would never give up the opportunity to be the mother of the most wonderful daughter just to have experienced her creation. 
I love my children equally but differently.  I believe this would be the case whether they were both adopted or both biological.  I love that Lily is gentle and caring.  I love that she is fantastic at puzzles and that she loves gymnastics.  I love that Jack already knows that he is funny and that at one year of age he can already understand what I am saying and will do what I ask...whenever he feels like it.  I love that Lily is cautious and rarely gets hurt and I love that Jack experiences the world full-speed ahead.  I believe that every kid is different and that genetics or parenting cannot control nature.  I believe that I was meant to be the mother of these two incredible kids.
I am asked all the time if we had Jack because I was missing out on being pregnant.  That was never the case.  Just like anything you have never experienced, of course you are curious.  I am lucky to have had the experience but would say that those nine months are small in comparison to the lifetime of your child.  People wonder all the time if they would be able to love a child that doesn't look like them.  I can honestly tell you that it makes absolutely no difference.  I love my kids the same. 
There is no difference in the love for created or acquired.  There is just love.  Incredible, amazing love.

Practise what you preach

The month of January 2010 is a complete blur of tears, clouds, and complete failure.  During the worst of my post partum depression, I was very honest with the world as to what I was going through.  I was too burned out and too tired to try to put on the mask that most women say that they wear during their struggles.  It was only once I was better that I realized that I was embarrassed by my struggle to become a mother of two.  I try to readily share my story with everyone so that if they have similar experiences they know that they too will be okay.  But when a friend of mine has a baby and makes it through with shining colors, I am jealous that they are better than I.  I don't wish this on anyone.  I only wish that I wouldn't have had the experience.  I wish that I too could say that I survived the newborn/toddler stage with shining colors.  But alas, it was not to be...and so I continue on being me.
I have always been honest about all of my struggles to become the mom that I am.  I want my friends to be able to come to me and share their personal experiences and to know that I will never be judgemental.  I want to be a source of information for those with similar struggles.  And mostly, I just want to be able to be happy about who I am. 
I believe that if we all were to share our struggles with the world, we could erase some of the stigma surrounding post partum depression. (and infertility too) This is where the "practise what you preach" comes in.  I am a pharmacy manager at a grocery chain.   I was recently transferred to a different location.  It is most convenient for me to get our prescriptions at the location that I work, but before the transfer was complete, I stocked up on my anti-depressant Celexa.  I wanted to start at the new location with the idea that I was a strong "whole" person.  I planned to keep my depression a secret until their opinions of me were fully formed.  However I was put in a position this week where it was proper to share my experience.  It is now out in the open and it didn't make any difference. 
But I have to remember that if I want others to be open about their situations, I have to be ready to be open about my own.  I need to practice what I preach. So once again I will shout out to the world, "I love you Celexa."

Humbled

Just when I thought I was an expert in infertility, I have learned that the world of infertility and treatment is even bigger than even I had anticipated.  I have learned that we have basic infertility which is treated with basic treatments.  One more lesson learned...another reason to be grateful. 
In Canada we are very limited by the laws surrounding reproductive technology.  We cannot pay for sperm or egg donors nor can we pay someone to be a gestational carrier (surrogate mother).  These laws are a lot different in the US.  At one point during our treatment our doctor suggested donor sperm.  We knew from the very beginning that we were never going to be secretive and that our kids would always know how they came to be.  I think that "dropping the bomb" when they are older would be hard on them so they already know as much as they can comprehend and that knowledge will improve as they get older.  We had a hard time figuring out how we could explain donor sperm to a child.  And we didn't want to be forever haunted by the question of who he or she looked like.  Lily doesn't look like us and Jack does.  It's a lot more simple.  But anyway...the point of all that is that donor sperm is an option in Canada, but I think it is less common due to the inability to compensate donors for their donation. 
But back to the point at hand.  I have recently learned of much more complex cases of infertility that have ended in success.  My eyes have been opened up to the world of chromosomal testing, pre-genetic diagnosis, donor eggs, donor sperm, and surrogacy.  While the Calgary clinic is the best in Canada, I have now learned of an amazing clinic in the US that can help those couples who are "unhelpable" in Canada.
While I am humbled by the fact that I now know much less about infertility, I am incredibly excited to learn of new hope.  Up until now I have looked at basic IVF as the last option in treatments.  I have had so many people say to me, "This is our last chance.  What if this doesn't work?" and I have thought that exact same thing myself.  Now I know of more options for creating families.  While it is much more expensive and much more time consuming....it's impossible to put a price on family.


Colorado Centre for Reproductive Medicine - Making Dreams Conceivable

Hau’oli Makahiki Hou

Happy New Year! At this time of year we all seem to do a little review of the past year.  Everyone either says that it was a fantastic year or that it wasn't and they are happy for a new start.  I can't really say either.  On November 30th I thought about how one year ago Lily finally became an official member of our family.  On December 3rd I thought about how one year ago I held Jack for the very first time.  And today I think about how one year ago today I began the most difficult struggle of my life so far. 
Unfortunately Post Partum Depression clouds my opinion of the last year.  I had nine amazing months as a stay at home mom with my two amazing kids...but the year began in a fog.  Most moms say that those first few months are blurry and it is probably due to sleep deprivation...but I have some complete holes.  I don't know if my brain doesn't want me to remember the pain, but that means missing out on three amazing months of my kids' lives.  I try to put it behind me but thinking about it brings up this amazing feeling of guilt.  I know that they are okay and they probably won't remember a thing about those months, but there will always be something inside of me that knows that I failed them.  I am not looking for reassurance that I am a good mother or that they are okay.  I know all of that.  I also know that it is crazy to feel guilty about something that you have no power over....trust me, I tried really hard not to have depression!!  Perhaps as the year progresses and I move into March, the cloud in my memory will be replaced by memories of play dates, Kindermusik, coffee dates, Exploradance, and swimming lessons and I will look back fondly on 2010. 
I love the saying, "Life is not measured by the number of breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away."  I was so worried that I wouldn't be around to see Jack's 1st steps.  Although I have to return to work tomorrow and 2011 seems a little scary because of the need for a new routine, I can happily say that seeing the pride on his face when he took those steps has made 2011 an amazing year so far.
For some reason I am that person that is never happy with what I have and I am always searching for more.  When I was a kid, I always wanted to grow up so fast.  I wanted my own phone line and my own car.  I wanted to date when I should have been playing with my dolls. In University I wanted to get into pharmacy after my first year.  I wanted a boyfriend and then I wanted to be engaged. I wanted to get married, buy a house, and have a baby.  Then I wanted another baby to make my family complete.  Ahhh....that search for more has finally come to a close.  I have a complete feeling of peace.  All I want now is to enjoy what I have.  I have never felt like this before and I am going to enjoy it to the fullest.  I have been blessed with this amazing life...and I am going to live it. 
Welcome 2011.  We are going to have a great time together!!