There is only one thing I want my friends and family to truly understand about miscarriage:  The loss of a pregnancy is akin to experiencing the death of a loved one. We who continue to miscarry go through the grieving and mourning process just the same–every time. The anniversaries of the losses and the would-be due dates are just as difficult. It wears us down and burdens our hearts. And although we pick ourselves up and move through the pain, in some form it always remains.

I have waited to post the following video link out of respect to my sweet friend. In addition to the Tears and Hope video, I have also posted some other resources that she and her husband find valuable to their journey. They are very brave for taking this step. It is a difficult step to take, and Adam and I respect them all the more for it. We support them on their journey, wherever that leads. And we are honored to be a part of it.

There are many friends out there who have asked for help in understanding, and I so appreciate their love and support. I recognize their efforts, and hope that what I have posted below will help them a little more. I plead with every visitor to please watch both videos!!!

A wonderful video, Tears and Hope, created as part of the Infertility Awareness Project.

A music video, I Would Die for That, written and performed by a fabulous singer who struggled to conceive a child.

Things We Wish We Could Tell People about Infertility - One version is listed below (When you see “I” please consider it as “we”) or you can find an official version here:

1. I wish you would not be afraid to speak to me about my losses, my infertility, and to ask what you can do to help. I wish that you would not stop calling or asking questions just because you don’t know what to say.
2. If I cry or get emotional when we talk about them, I wish you knew that it isn’t because you have hurt me. The fact that I have suffered has caused my tears. You have allowed me to cry, and I thank you. Crying and emotional outbursts are healing.
3. I wish you wouldn’t pretend that nothing is happening to me, because it is a large part of my life. I need my friends and family by my side.
4. I will have emotional highs and lows, ups and downs. I wish you wouldn’t think that if I have a good day, my grief is over, or that if I have a bad day, I need psychiatric counseling.
5. Being an infertile person is not contagious, so I wish you wouldn’t shy away from me.
6. I wish you knew that all of the “crazy” grief reactions I am having are in fact very normal. Depression, anger, frustration, hopelessness, and questioning of values and beliefs are to be expected during and following what is happening to me.
7. I wish you would not try to offer solutions. Trust me, we have been searching for the answer with all the effort our souls and if it was as simple as you think you think it is, we would have found it already.
8. Infertility is not a punishment for unrighteousness or a consequence of having done something “wrong.” It is an unfortunate side effect of being human and a recognized medical condition.
9. I wish you wouldn’t expect my grief to be over if and when I become pregnant or have children. We struggle to accept the fact that with each attempt at a child, we will face the same fears, concerns and challenges. We will also never forget the pain of losing a dream.
10. I wish you could see that the goal is not to “get pregnant.” It is to have a healthy baby and eventually the family that we crave.
11. I wish you would understand the physical reactions to grief. I may gain weight or lose weight…sleep all the time or not at all…want to surround myself with business or be all alone, all of which may be related to my grief.
12. My birthday, anniversaries of the failed pregnancies, holidays, and the days I find out that this cycle too was a bust, are all terrible times for me. I wish you could tell me that you are thinking about me, and if I become withdrawn, just know I am doing my best to cope. Please don’t try to coerce me into being cheerful or tell me that it will be better soon.
13. It is normal and good that most of us re-examine our faith, values, and beliefs throughout this journey. We will question things we have been taught all our lives, and hopefully come to some new understandings. I wish you would let me tangle with my opinions and beliefs without making me feel guilty. I wish you would not classify this struggle as a simple matter of faith and belief.
    I wish you understood that infertility changes people. I am not the same person I was before I experienced it nor will I ever be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to “get back to my old self,” you will be frustrated. I am a new creature with new thoughts, dreams, aspirations, values, and beliefs. Please try and get to know the “new me”…maybe you will still like me.
14. I wish for those friends and family that are pregnant to understand that we are happy for them but our sadness/perhaps odd or distant behavior during this time is not personal but just a part of what we are grieving.
15. I wish that you would not judge the times that I am sad or find it hard to deal with things like pregnancies and/or baby showers. Infertility does not make us bad people, just people in pain.
16. I wish you would do the best you can to put yourself in my shoes and think about what you would do and how you would feel and use that to guide your support. Ask yourself the same questions you turn on me, “Why don’t YOU JUST…?”

We hope everyone benefits from this. –rach and adam

Hello Princess! I’m not sure what your name will end up being so I am sticking with Princess for now. What do you think? I cannot believe papi and I will be there in a few short weeks to finally meet you. We hear that you are the shy one of the bunch. Your psychologist reports that you are the sweetest little girl once you decide to let someone in. We also hear that you are slow to warm up and won’t speak until you feel comfortable. I hope you will quickly feel our love. I will not be offended if you do not show us love right away. Whether it is one day, one week, one month, or one year–I will wait for your love. You, my princss, are worth waiting for. :)

 I also hear that you are extra close to big brother Daniel. You are so lucky to have a big brother who cares so deeply and tries to protect you. I surely hope that you always remain close to him. You will share a bedroom with Ezzy when we settle in Las Vegas. It will be a grand adventure watching the two of you (only 11 months apart) fight over clothes, boys and friends. I hope I end up being the mom I envision for the two of you–someone you can talk to, laugh with, and most importantly look to as an example of a strong joyful woman, wife and mother.

Princess, I want you as much as you want a mom and dad. I want nothing more than to be YOUR mom. Heavenly Father has led me to your door. Of that I have no doubt! Hopefully, someday you will know for yourself that we were meant to be.

I cried myself to sleep last night. I haven’t done that in a really long time. There are lots of bad days for us Infertiles. :) I hadn’t had one for awhile, until this past week. The whole week seemed like a bad day. It caught me off-guard and sent me reeling. Those of us on infertile ground are all too familiar with this scenario:

Adam and I joined our friends in Zion this past week. It was fun and relaxing, and I would do it all again tomorrow. Having said that, I have never, until now, spent significant time with my friends’ children in close quarters. It was more difficult than expected. I am usually pretty good at keeping it together and staying rational, but I was on the verge of tears more times than I could count this last week. I cried a little on Saturday morning, and I couldn’t bear to pay attention to sweet baby Paige, but I did okay on the group hike and everything after.

Sunday came though and hit me like a ton of bricks. I was sitting by Valerie at church who had Paige nestled on her lap all cuddly and pink–cooing and smiling at her mommy. I looked down the line and could see Adona playing on her daddy’s lap. And in the middle of it all was me totally feeling sorry for myself. I was trapped! My sweet husband held my hand and I cried for a long time. I completely lost it during the musical number. I am really grateful for the song though. As I sat and listened to the sweet words about the Savior and his suffering and sacrifice, I found a bit of strength.

I am not perfectly strong, but I am strong enough! I decided at church to keep approaching life as I have the past couple of years–and that is to go straight through the problem, not around it or over it or under it. It is not baby Paige’s fault that she was born. (Duh, I know…it is especially not her fault that she has a crazy Aunt Rachel.) So I cried a little more with my friends after church, and I held baby Paige at dinner. She and I even went on a little walk together. I know Val wants me to pay attention to her kids. Her children are her gifts, and they should be celebrated.

And let me be clear, my friends did nothing wrong. They said nothing insensitive. They didn’t thrust their children into my lap, or ask me to feed them. They were kind and open and compassionate. The simple fact is, they have given birth and I have not. They have had the experience of carrying life inside of them. They have felt a little baby kick and move and squirm in their bellies. They have succeeded in the great miracle of bearing life! And the fact remains that I have NOT.

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The closer the adoption gets, the more I think about wanting a successful pregnancy. Isn’t that weird? I guess it’s to be expected. There is no doubt about our adoption. There is no hesitation or melancholy in my mind. I want my children home with me now! (and they will be very soon) But I have realized in the last few weeks that our adoption will never replace our experience with infertility. At first I felt guilty about this because I don’t want my children to think they are second best. They are NOT! Having said that, I would never ever wish the hopelessness of infertility on them. I pray fervently that my children never have to experience the despair that I have felt. I want them to experience having a child with their spouses–it’s silly to think anything else. And that makes me feel better. Our adoption and our infertility are tied together in so many ways, but not in this way!

I don’t know if I’ll ever have a baby, but I would like to think that a newborn would also never replace the last four years of experience. It is painful and heart-wrenching. Some mornings it makes me want to pull the covers over my face and never get up–for real. However, my experience with infertility blesses me. I feel more aware of myself. I will soon be able to truly taste of the exquisite joy of my four children. And if I am ever blessed with the experience of a newborn baby, I will appreciate him or her all the more.

The bitter really does help us savor the sweet!!!

This past weekend Brooklynn and I made a paper chain to mark our three-week countdown to when we leave for Colombia. We alternated colors representing the Colombian flag–cute, huh? Brookie is in charge of tearing off a loop each day, and is super excited about her ‘job’. We are so excited, and our chain is quickly disappearing. 16 days until we leave!

I was sitting in my sister’s car waiting for her to drop Spence off at grandma Hirschi’s. While I was waiting for her, I saw her sister-in-law, Sandi, cleaning out her van. She is pregnant with her fifth child and starting to really show. Wade her youngest was tagging along beside her, Anna her next youngest was running in and out of the house, and her two oldest boys were in the backyard playing in the grass and dirt.

As I watched her walk back and forth, I had the instant reaction I always have. You know, the ‘I hate her’ reaction. I automatically turned away so I wouldn’t have to make eye contact and give a fake smile. This is always my first reaction whenever I see someone I know with a cute pregnant belly. Yeah, like ignoring the pregnancy will make it go away or something, right? Totally irrational! This time though I had an immediate follow-up thought, which was: ‘rach, it’s not her fault that you aren’t pregnant. And this is not her trial, it’s yours.’

The this is not her trial idea kept running through my head as I watched her busily take care of her family–all with a beautiful humble smile on her face. And the little voice that spoke to me is right, this is MY trial! I must continue to own it. Sandi’s trial is very different, I am sure. And I wouldn’t trade my trial for hers. I wouldn’t trade it with my friend Jes who lost her little baby just a few short months after waiting years and years for him. I wouldn’t trade my trial with her sister Nichole who lost her husband in her early thirties. I wouldn’t trade it with the myriad of other friends and acquaintances who’s trials are intense and difficult.

However hard my trial is–I wouldn’t trade it. Infertility has brought me and my husband to a higher level of respect and love for each other. It has guided me to a level of compassion and understanding for others that I never thought I was capable of. And my trial has, in essence, led me to my children. Why would I trade it?

In conclusion, my mind continues to war with others’ bellies, and it probably always will. As my understanding grows, however, the twinges of hurt lessen. Although the jealousy doesn’t go away, dealing with it does get easier. And after sitting in the Pathfinder watching Sandi work, I realized I still really really want to give birth to a child. I don’t think that will ever disappear.

Now if we could just do something about the bellies getting bigger……………..

I have been thinking about you a lot this week. I hope your broken arm is mending nicely. I can’t wait to hear the story of how you broke it. And I am very sorry that I was not there to kiss it better and hold your hand at the hospital. Mamis are not supposed to miss those events. I’m sure the doctor took good care of you though. By the way, aren’t little boys supposed to be the ones breaking limbs at your age? I guess that shows how tough you are! :) That’s my kind of girl.

Also, Senor Raul says that you love school and that you are an excellent student. I hope you are still minding your teachers and taking advantage of their knowledge. Maybe you can read me a story when I get to Bogota. Papi and I love learning and exploring. I wonder what your favorite subjects are. I secretly hope they are reading and history–those are my favorites. But if they are science and math, Papi will be very proud.

I can’t wait to be your teacher. I can’t wait to explore the earth, in all its magnificence, with you. I can’t wait to read Chronicles of Narnia and The Secret Garden to you. I can’t wait to watch you excel in learning new languages. There is so much to be done and so much to enjoy. Our time together is coming quickly.

Oh yeah, I went shopping today with Tia Jaimee. We went to Old Navy and bought you and your sister two new outfits and two new dresses. The only thing that would have made it more fun is if you and Daniela were with us. I hope you like what we picked out. More than that–I hope the outfits fit.

Ezzy–you are loved. Maybe when you gaze at the twinkling stars or when you feel a soft raindrop kiss your cheek, you feel it somehow. I hope that when you look at our picture you see it. I know how difficult it is to trust someone completely. Why should you believe that these two strangers from the USA are really coming for you? Why should you trust that what everyone is telling you is true? You have been lied to and hurt by adults. I do not blame you one bit if you do not love me, yet, because it is too painful. I am really scared too. Until this week, I was deathly afraid that someone was going to call and say, “just kidding, the Rodriguez children are no longer yours.” But now, I know for sure that I am coming to pick you up. And nothing will stand in my way of loving you. I have never met you, Esmeralda, but I love you as my own–completely. I know that someday very soon you will be able to wink back at the stars and smile at the rain.

OK, so these guys decided they were going to tell their two sons that they are planning on adopting a little sister. Check out the boys’ reactions!
http://checkingboxes.blogspot.com/2008/04/telling-kids.html

I promised a happy post–so here it is!

I started packing yesterday. Aunt Jaimee brought home new beach towels from Wal-mart the other day, which got me rather excited to go through the clothing items I have. Adam and I purchased swimsuits at Target last week so I figured that I could at least pack all the swimwear. We plan to spend lots of time in the pool while we are in Bogota. We also plan on taking a side trip to the coast, which is supposedly spectacular. Now all I need to purchase are kid goggles, flip-flops, and sunglasses. I even have sunscreen already packed in their backpacks.

For those who haven’t heard, we received word yesterday of a tentative travel date. We are planning to arrive in Bogota on June 8!!! The amazing thing about this date–get ready for goosebumps–is that it is the exact date we have been praying for. Adam finishes his ‘May’ class on June 6. His ‘June’ class finishes on June 6 & 7. So we are free to leave Utah on the afternoon of the seventh. The kids are being prepped 2-3 times/week. They are excited and anxious for us to arrive. We will get updated pictures along with current heights and weights next Tuesday or Wednesday. Oh man, I can barely contain myself.

And more good news: Adam’s boss, Jim, called today with word that he was able to get Adam’s full-time status at work approved to begin on June 9. This means one or two full paychecks that we were not expecting while in Colombia. This is a huge blessing since there are many expenses awaiting us when we arrive!!!

One more word of gratitude: Jim and Nicole (his wife) have been two of our biggest supporters through this process. We adore their family and we are so excited that we will now have kids that Lily and Emilie (I just know I mixed up their spellings) can play with when we go to dinner. Yay–I’m so excited for that! Jim never gets off the phone without asking about the adoption. Nicole and the girls went through their room and gave us a huge box of amazing children books. And, both Jim and Nicole came to our shower amidst multiple gymnastics obligations. They have never said we’re crazy–at least to our faces. :) They have never tried to dissuade our decision. They have been nothing but supportive. Thank you, Moore Family, for your generosity, kindness, and love. We appreciate you!

Papi and I just got off the phone with Senor Raul. He is one of the people at Commonwealth Adoptions that is helping us bring you home. Raul says that you and your siblings are very excited to be adopted. He also says that you, in particular, are very anxious and nervous about all the unknowns, especially about traveling so far away from everything familiar. I hear that you have taken on the role of protector, which is to be expected. What a valiant and brave little boy you are.

Life sure isn’t fair, is it? It’s not fair that your birth-parents made poor choices that affected you. It’s not fair that you have been charged with caring for and parenting Esmeralda, Daniela, and Juan Pablo. It’s not fair that you, at seven years old, feel the weight of the world upon your little shoulders. For these reasons I think you are extra special. When I look at your picture I see goodness and warmth in your eyes. I see hope and kindness. You are the very best big brother. I can’t wait to meet you.

As I sit in sadness thinking about the rough start you’ve had, I also sit in hope. My hope for you is that ONE short month from now you can start on the road back to boyhood. I can’t wait for you to care about soccer balls, dirt, and pizza–and nothing else! I know we’ll encounter meltdowns along the way. I can’t wait to love you through them as you slowly relinquish your role of parent and return back to that of big brother. I especially can’t wait for you to meet Papi. He is so cool. He is itching to get on the plane so he can play, play, and play some more. You are so lucky that he will soon enter your life.

And, by the way, I can’t wait to be a soccer mom. I never thought I would hear myself say such a thing, but your smile makes me ready. Of course, you might have to remind me one day that I said that. :) I want you to be my son, Daniel. I have no doubt that I was led to you. I sure wish that your life was perfect from birth, even if that meant that I didn’t get to be your mother because your overall health and happiness is paramount to me. Unfortunately, that is not what occurred. Poor choices were made and sadness happened. Luckily, we will both eventually benefit from it.

Anyway we square it, life isn’t fair! And on a day like today, I am grateful!

Love,

Mami

That would be our I-171 approval in the picture. Just a simple sheet of paper that says we are “able to furnish proper care to an orphan or orphans as defined by Section 101 (b)(1)(F) of the Immigration and Nationality Act.” Our form has been forwarded to the American embassy in Bogota.

So our caseworker emailed this last missing piece to the ICBF review board. We should have the travel invitation and official referral from Colombia tomorrow, hopefully. Wouldn’t it be great to actually receive it by the weekend. That is what we’re hoping for.

What’s next then, you ask? All we have left to do is book our plane tickets and get our travel visas from the Colombian consulate in San Francisco. This could require an in-person request–meaning day trip to SFO. Hopefully not, though. It just depends on the day and the person behind the desk. :)

It’s real, it’s really really real! And, thus, the excitement begins.