Not quite sure…

Before I begin this post, I need to preface my comments with the following statements:

1. I have lost a baby. Our first pregnancy ended in a miscarriage at 11 weeks. I also have experienced what some might call “secondary infertility.”

2. I am fully aware that I do not understand the impact infertility would have on my life having given birth to two biological children. I don’t pretend to understand the pain and grief that comes with the realm of “unknown” when it comes to having children.

3. What I post here is just that, my post, my thoughts. This blog has become, in a way, a journal for me to process my feelings about adopting our daughter. It is never my intent to cause pain and hurt to anyone. I am sincerely questioning so many things and have found great security and acceptance in speaking what I think and listening to others respond.

So with all that, here is what I’m processing.

I have a childhood friend who lives and works in Tanzania. She and her husband just recently adopted their second child, a little boy, about a week ago. He is the most precious little guy…so cute, so wanted and already being loved! I went to her blog the other day and was met with her blog post, “The Elephant in the Room.”

In this entry, she shared to honestly, deeply and opening about their struggle with infertility, with dealing with people’s often unintentional (and I would put myself in that category) questions about why.

I was blown away with one of the first real stories of what it’s like to be infertile. I have found myself so many times extremely uncomfortable in the presence of others who cannot have biological children. I have felt “out of the club” and therefore, not entitled to ask any questions. I’m not saying that I need to do know people’s personal stories. Absolutely not. Those are for them to share as they feel lead to do so. No, instead I sometimes feel that it’s my fault that they cannot give birth to a child. To me, I feel like I’ve done something wrong.

I remember when Matthew and I were first discussing adoption with our extended families. We were asked “well, are you done having your children?” What? I know the sincerity that was spoken with, but it shook me. It came from a place of ignorance and it was our job to teach what adoption was and is to our family.

So I think that’s the same with infertility. As I read my friend’s blog, I was struck with how vulnerable yet so eloquently she spoke of their family’s story. I learned so much about infertility and it’s effects on a mother in that short post. I wish that we could all be more open. I have much to learn about the pain of others. I don’t feel comfortable asking or talking about this issue for fear of rejection, of causing pain.

For one of the first times, I got it. At least, as an outsider who has not dealt with this particular pain. And I am no longer as ignorant of how infertility affects another human being.