You’re Going to Miss This

June 27, 2019Leave a comment

Dear Mamas,

Do you constantly hear “you’ll miss this?”

I hear it all the time. And I know I’ll miss this time. I know I’ll miss having my babies home with me every day. I know I’ll miss their snuggles and kisses and giggles.

But let me be honest. I constantly feel stuck between “soak up this moment” and “praying just to make it through the day (or night).”

I’ve got a toddler who is so fun to play and interact with, and it is so much fun to have conversations with him. I sometimes feel like I’ve got this mom thing down when he sweetly says, “thank you Mommy” or “you’re welcome Mommy.” But he’s also an independent toddler finding his own opinion (on everything!!), and we have days where he spends most of his time crying or shouting about not getting his way.

I have a happy, smiley seven month old who loves nothing more than his mama to sit and talk to him. I adore his giggles. But he can also instantly turn on the tears the moment I walk away. So my day is often spent sitting on the floor next to him, while I look around at everything not getting done.

Mamas. These days are hard. They are sweet. They are everything. They fill your heart while also making you wonder if you’ve actually lost your mind. You love so deeply yet don’t want to be touched anymore. You bounce back and forth between feeling adequate as a mother and questioning everything you do.

So yea, I already know I am going to miss these days. I see it when I look back at baby photos of my toddler and wonder where that time went.

But I also look forward to the days ahead. Not scheduling days around naps or feedings. Walking out of the house without a huge bag of diapers and extra clothes and bottles and an entire pantry full of snacks.

So when I hear “you’ll miss this,” I tend to feel guilty for not cherishing every moment. But the moments aren’t just beautiful and full of love. They are full of tantrums and spit up too.

I promise you that every mama is soaking up the moments when she can, even if she’s struggling to make it through the day. I promise that if you’re feeling guilty for wishing time away, you aren’t the only one. Look for some good in every day, but give yourself some grace when the only good you can find is that you made it to bedtime.

These days are tough, but so are you.

All my love,

Betsy

Finalization Day: Forever Yours

June 21, 2019Leave a comment

Dear No One,

Two years ago we finalized our son’s adoption.

We had to do six post placement visits with a social worker after bringing him home, so he was seven months before his adoption was finalized. All the paperwork had been completed and signed, and we sat in front of a judge and promised to love and support our son.

The judge’s words, “yours forever” are burnt into my memory. In that moment, I felt myself release a breath of tension I had been holding in from the day we decided to adopt. No more paperwork. No more trying to convince a total stranger that we were fit to raise our son. He would have a birth certificate with our last name. We could get him a social security number. He was legally ours.

Ours. And in that same moment, I saw his first mom’s face. I saw a part of my son’s life close. In a moment I had longed for, I recognized the loss for my son and his birth family.

We are in an open adoption, and I tell his first mom about pretty much everything. His milestones, his sense of humor, his behaviors (good and bad). I want her to know him and his personality. Yet for the first time, I didn’t send her pictures. I didn’t say anything about his finalization because I knew that us officially “gaining” another family member was also a loss for her.

I’ve heard this day called “gotcha day.” From what I have read from some adoptees, though, is that name does not do it justice. It does not allow an adoptee to feel the range of emotions that comes from this moment. There is joy and pain and loss.

Last night, Daxon woke up in the middle of the night and begged for snuggles. We pulled him into our bed for the first time since he was a baby. I held him, rubbed his head, and listened to his breath slow next to me. A huge part of my heart laid there next to me, and I felt so grateful that he is my son.

His first mom chose me to care for our son. She chose me to snuggle him at night. She chose me to read to him, feed him, potty train him, raise him in every way. She trusted me to love him forever.

So today, we are not celebrating big. We are loving big. We are showing our son that no matter what he feels towards this day or his adoption, we will always be there for him. Through the tough conversations and range of emotions, we will love him forever. We are his family. Forever.

So today is our forever family day. Full of love. And joy. And honest conversations. And pain. And sadness.

Daxon, you are a huge part of my heart living outside of my body, and I will love you forever. No matter what. You are my son, and I am your mom. There is no greater joy in my life than to watch you grow up. I love you Bugs. Today and always.

All my love,

Betsy

Infertility is a Trauma

June 10, 2019June 10, 2019Leave a comment

Dear No One,

I have publicly begged and yearned for the day I would be a mother. My journey to motherhood has been nothing short of exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I naively thought once I built my family, I’d sigh a big breath of relief and cruise into my dream job as a mother.

Here’s the thing, though. Infertility changed me. Changed me to my core. For the most part I think it made me stronger. It gave me a deeper purpose. But years of ignoring the mental and emotional turmoil of infertility has left incredibly deep scars.

Scars. “a lasting effect of grief, fear, or other emotion left on a person’s character by a traumatic experience.”

Infertility is a trauma. Yet it is kept behind closed doors. You don’t tell people you are struggling to get pregnant. You don’t tell people you miscarried. Why?

Because the pain is too heavy to put on someone who can never understand.

Because when you do talk about it, you get the comments “You’re still so young,” “just relax,” “you just get to have more fun trying.” And these comments, while meant to be helpful, only further your idea that your deep hurt isn’t valid. That you should be enjoying this journey somehow. That it isn’t that big of a deal.

So you hold it in. You carry the weight of your pain and trauma on your shoulders. But that pain is too heavy, friends. It should not be carried alone.

Infertility is a trauma, and it should be dealt with as a trauma.

Recognizing your struggle and finding validation is the first step in taking control of your infertility and mental health.

Your life is lived in cycles that bring the highest joys and hope followed by despair and grief. On repeat. No one is meant to do this alone.

Find support groups. Find other infertility warriors. Find a counselor. Find someone who understands and talk about your pain.

I admittedly didn’t do this. I kept to myself for a long time, and I’m still working through some of the scars that it left behind.

So I am here to tell you that infertility is a trauma. It is serious. It is deep. Your feelings are valid. You are not alone.

Recognize the depth of the journey you are on. Work through it, whether it is privately with a therapist or publicly on social media. It will not be easy. It is a long road.

But you are more than infertility. You are worthy of help. Your relationship deserves it. Your spouse deserves it. Your future or current children deserve it. YOU deserve it.

Your life is bigger than infertility. Deal with it as the trauma it is, find the healing you deserve, and move forward into the life that is waiting for you.

All my love,

Betsy