“You didn’t consider IVF???” That was the reaction I received when I shared with a friend that my son was adopted from Ethiopia. My response? No, I didn’t. I didn’t pursue any treatments after enduring three emotionally taxing miscarriages in a row; what else was there to attempt?
My doctor—a rather unpleasant fellow, but that’s a different tale—referred me to a Women’s Reproductive Clinic for extensive testing and options. He sat there, hands folded, shaking his head as he said softly, “I believe you will conceive; you might just need some assistance.”
“I believe you will conceive…” At 27, Mike and I felt ready to start a family. I had walked into that same obstetrician’s office and asked, “What should I do to get pregnant?” His reply? “Have lots of sex.” Simple enough, I thought. After all, I had seen plenty of friends successfully become parents. But there I was, reeling from three miscarriages. After countless cycles of testing, two D&Cs, and a mountain of tears, I was left with the words, “I believe you will conceive.”
Perhaps I had grown indifferent to the idea of becoming pregnant.
When I received the referral, it came with a hefty packet to complete—medical histories for both Mike and me, various testing options, and more. The overwhelming nature of it all caused the packet to linger on our coffee table for months. It was filled with images of smiling mothers cradling babies, which only deepened my feelings of inadequacy. I’d occasionally nudge Mike, “Should we tackle this?”
“Not now…maybe later,” he’d reply, engrossed in his Wall Street Journal.
“Alright, I don’t feel like it either.”
Then one day, I asked, “Are we moving forward? Should we get those tests and start this process?” That question opened the floodgates for a long-overdue conversation. We both felt we’d endured enough. Moving ahead could lead to a child, but it also carried the risk of added stress, physical tolls, and the unsettling possibility that one of us might be “the problem.” Choosing to walk away meant no labels or looming clouds. I tossed the packet in the trash and felt a sense of relief wash over me. Mike appeared rejuvenated.
“Shall we explore adoption instead?” I proposed.
“Sounds good.” His few words spoke volumes, as if he were saying, “Absolutely! I’m eager to move forward with that plan.”
And so, we did. Adoption had always been on our radar, and deep down, we knew it was the right path for us. I still remember asking him about it when we were 18 and in our early dating days: “What are your thoughts on adopting? I’d like to adopt.”
“Sounds good.” Who knew back then that I had found the right partner to share that dream with?
When the packet from the adoption agency arrived, we wasted no time filling it out. We signed up for an info session, reviewed country options, and ordered relevant books. We were on a mission—excited and at ease. I was certain this was our destiny.
The waiting period was agonizingly long! I found myself growing impatient, yet I never felt stressed. The moment we laid eyes on EJ’s photo, it all clicked. All the heartache and anxiety faded away. For the first time, I felt gratitude for that difficult journey, as it led us to the most adorable baby imaginable—our baby.
While there’s a strong possibility we could have a biological child, we’ve both acknowledged it. My new OBGYN mentioned that we might not even need IVF. About a year after EJ came home, we talked about expanding our family. I felt a twinge of guilt for only wanting one child and for not pursuing a biological option. Mike simply stated, “One and done!” This has become our mantra.
I hold immense respect for women navigating fertility treatments. It demands incredible strength and resilience—qualities I’m not sure I possess. Yet, it’s essential to recognize that every woman’s journey to motherhood is unique. We don’t all follow the same route. Some of us take different paths, not necessarily better, just different. And every day, I’m thankful my path took a turn…
This article was originally published on July 26, 2010.
Summary:
In this heartfelt narrative, Jenna recounts her journey to motherhood, highlighting her initial struggles with miscarriages and her eventual decision to adopt. After grappling with overwhelming medical options, she finds peace in choosing adoption, ultimately leading to the joy of welcoming her son, EJ. Jenna reflects on the diverse paths to parenthood, expressing gratitude for her unique experience.