All the Cool Kids are Doing It

Have you ever felt like you were the only non-pregnant person in the whole world? I'm not just talking about the direct correlation between how hard you are trying to get pregnant and how many of your Facebook friends have announced their pregnancies that very week. Rather, I'm thinking back to each of my pregnancy experiences and remembering all of the celebrities who got knocked up at the same time. When I was pregnant with Daniel, Julia Roberts was expecting her third child. Christina Aguilera and Nicole Kidman had their babies around the same time. We were a sisterhood of mommies, suffering exhaustion and sore breasts "alongside" one another.

With each of my unsuccessful pregnancies came envy and disgust. How dare Nicole Richie have a second child when her first isn't even as old as Daniel? What justice is there in the world when Tori Spelling can have a second healthy pregnancy and I can't even get past the first trimester? Does Heidi Klum REALLY need a fourth kid? And so on. As I mourned my losses, it seemed like everyone in Hollywood was procreating. Even during my last IVF cycle, Celine Dion gave birth to her "miracle" twins. I really wanted to share that miracle with Celine.

Now that I've decided to end my pursuit of having another biological child, I still get a little hot under the collar with every Posh Spice or Jessica Alba. These celebrities just keep popping them out like it's the trendiest thing to hit Hollywood! I find myself obsessively poring over E!Online, searching for the next "big" announcement. Selma Blair, Jane Krakowski, Jewel, Natalie Portman, Mariah Carey, and on and on and on. Is Khloe Kardashian preggers or not? Will someone please tell me and PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY???

But I'm starting to notice another trend. Sandra's adopted baby boy Louis. Sarah Jessica's twins via surrogate. Nicole's daughter via surrogate. Sheryl Crow's adopted boys Wyatt and Levi. I could go on, but you get the point. Just today, I read about Elizabeth Banks (Avery on 30 Rock) having a baby boy via surrogate. Her exact quote was: "I have been very fortunate in life both professionally and personally...The one true hurdle I've faced in life is that I have a broken belly. After years of trying to get pregnant, exploring the range of fertility treatments, all unsuccessful, our journey led us to gestational surrogacy..." Now THIS is a woman to whom I can relate! Broken bellies unite!

If we follow Hollywood's example, it appears that there really is no "right" way to make a family. Sure, you can do it like the Beckhams and procreate like there's no tomorrow (all while maintaining your svelte, angular figure), or you can do the best with what you've been given. Elizabeth Banks' announcement today filled me with pride. I'm now part of an elite club. A group of high-profile women who are turning lemons into lemonade via adoption, surrogacy, and even stopping after one child (Shout-out to you, Courtney Cox, who suffered many miscarriages before giving birth to Coco, and then moved on with her fabulous life as the mother of an only child.) I've never been this trendy in my whole life.

Moving On

I am confounded by the fact that it is already the end of March. It has been over three months since my successful IVF cycle came to a devastatingly screeching halt. And just this week, I actually thought to myself, "I'm finally starting to move on."

What does "moving on" look like for me, you may ask. Well, for starters, it involves closure. By some strange and masochistic twist of fate, I received two key pieces of mail this week: one, a bill for $40.00 due to my OB-GYN at Jefferson for services rendered last winter before my March loss. The other, a refund check for $140.00 from Abington Reproductive Medicine for the months of embryo cryo-storage that we did not utilize. Nothing like an unintentional (but nonetheless stinging) slap in the face to force you to face the reality of your situation. So there's that. I'm no longer a patient of either practice, my accounts having been settled and my file having been shelved in a musty basement somewhere.

Then there's the more tangible aspects of "moving on." Inquiring about places to consign my maternity clothes. This was a much bigger deal than you might think. I haven't been able to look in that guest room closet for months. Cleaning out Daniel's playroom and storing away most of his baby toys. Offering much of my gently-used baby gear to my sister-in-law, who is due in a couple of months. These small actions represent a much more significant step for me, which is to admit and accept that I will never again give birth to my own biological child.

Interestingly enough, "moving on" also holds some positive connotations for me. I've been hitting the gym hard, working to get my pre-"three failed pregnancies in two years" body back. I have a long way to go, but I'm fighting the muffin top with all my might. I'm considering going back to work: initially as a substitute teacher, then maybe full time when Daniel starts kindergarten. I'm rediscovering my identity as a woman, beyond being a mother. I'm searching for things that fulfill me, beyond my precious child. And that is a GOOD thing!

And then there's this: I'm exploring the idea of adoption. Reading books and articles, talking to people, gathering phone numbers. Deciding on domestic vs. international. Adjusting the image I've always had for the future, and learning to like the way it looks. With or without a second child who may or may not look like me. Finding something every day that's wonderful about having only one child. And being okay with that!

I'm nothing if not a work in progress, but I'm moving forward.