"We had each other. Then we had you. Then we had everything"
That's from "Sex and the City". I fall apart every time I see Charlotte read that inscription her husband had engraved on a silver rattle from Tiffany's. I love that show. I started watching it before I met my husband. When I was a single, thirty-something and fancy free. The final season ran the summer we got married. We were so happy and hopeful for the future and knew that we wanted to have a child sooner rather than later since we were both over 35.
"Sex and the City" was always a great escape. I could watch those four fabulous women and live vicariously through their stories knowing I would never have a life anything like theirs. When I watched those episodes with Charlotte and her infertility heartache, I was sad for her. But I was in a new relationship and ready for marriage and a family. I knew that would never happen to us. Funny how infertility doesn't discriminate. You can be a Park Avenue lady or a simple middle class gal in the country. We all go through the same tests, the poking and prodding and the invasive procedures. When we came to the end of our infertility treatment rope, so to speak, I now look at those episodes and finally empathize with Charlotte. I never thought I could have anything in common with any of the characters on that show, but Charlotte's quest for the sound of tiny foot steps and her struggle with her friend's pregnancy are something I now feel I know more than I ever wished to know.
Our infertility story is no more remarkable than any other. But it was a lonely time. There was no one to speak to about it except for each other. Then we had a period of not knowing what to do next and we hardly spoke about "it" at all except to argue and cry. We couldn't agree how to go on. More fertility treatments or adoption? I finally decided I had to put it all from my mind. I decided, if it was to be, it would be. We finally decided to look into domestic adoption and attended yet another orientation only to be told we were to old for their domestic program. Exasperated, I told my husband it seemed like we constantly had doors slam shut in our faces. He patiently and emphatically said, "We'll find a door".
And so now, we are on the road to adoption. Everyone we share the news with is so ecstatic for us. And a little impatient. "How long will it take?", Have you heard anything yet?" is what we hear now. Amazingly, I have reached a point where I am not crazed. I feel almost serene, just knowing we are on our way. Hope has replaced restlessness. I don't stop myself from looking in the baby department of stores. We are keeping busy and enjoying doing things together that we probably won't have time for when finally meet our child.
We know you are out there, little one. And then two will become three. And then we will have everything.
