Did You Just Ask That?

Some people ask inappropriate questions. People you just met, people waiting in line at the grocery store, and even people you know and love...

I was asked about six million times, "When are you having kids?" "You have been married for so long, when will you have a baby?" I would close up, work up the courage to smile and say, "When the time is right." Meanwhile, I would be dying inside wanting to scream, "We've been trying forever!! I would like the answer to that too!!!"

One of the things I remember the most about the Great Infertility Drama of 2006-2008 is the feeling of wanting to curl up in fetal position and throw a blanket over my head. I didn't want to talk about it with ANYONE. Partly because I didn't want to jinx the latest and greatest round of pills, shots, and procedures. And partly because I was ashamed, sad and hurt that we didn't have our baby.
(Thinking back, I probably should have been more open with family and friends, especially because I was a hormone-induced crazy person and not quite myself. Oh well, Bygones...)

After the last failed IVF attempt, we decided on adoption. As we spread the happy news of our decision, it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I finally had an answer to my hairdresser and the lady who did my nails and to the inappropriate cashier at Publix who would always question my purchase of jars of baby food (It's for the dog, she loves it.). I noticed that as I shared our story, the entire story, people's body language changed. They too became more open and engaged. And because infertility and adoption are so much more common than people realize, they usually share a story of their own or how it's touched their lives. I realized that by being open and a little vulnerable with people, you can make a real connection. About 99% of the time it's received with love and reciprocated. I'm more aware of my body language, let my guard down and really listen to the person I speaking with. You never know when it could really make a difference to someone.

There will always be people asking inappropriate questions. And now, we have a whole new set, like "Are you her real Mom?" While a part of me wanted to answer in a robot voice, "I am a hologram, I am not real." I remembered my new mantra, dropped my guard, smiled and said, "She is my beautiful daughter from South Korea." Now most "real Mom's" are followed with genuine "How long did the process take?" or "What agency did you use?" And more often than not, it turns into a cliff-notes version of Adoption 101 for someone who knows someone or has gone through something similar themselves.

I now consider myself somewhat of an open book. I have nothing to hide. I have some friends that say it's one of their favorite things about me. And that makes me happy because it's a reminder of how far I've come from my head burying days.