For Nickstersmom

Originally Posted By NicksterMommyIt never occurred to me that someone might find "wannabe" disrespectful. I got the term from a poem written by an infertile who expressed her emotions about being a "momwannabe," which was the title of the poem. Sorry to anyone who got offended by the term. I'll start saying "hopeful Aparents."

Originally Posted By NicksterMommyJust in case anyone was curious about the poem where I got the "mom wannabe" phrase, here it is. I couldn't put the pain of infertility into words better myself. This was written by a woman going through infertility treatments, NOT an Amom hopeful. It captures the grief that we infertiles must work through before moving on to becoming a hopeful Amom. It is clearly written by a woman who knows the yearning for a child . . .A MOM WANNABEI want to be a mom. But I can't. Instead, I'm a mom wannabe. I want to procreate. I want to conceive a child naturally with my husband, in the privacy of our home, in the spirit of love and passion, in the way God intended. But I can't. Instead, I suspect a doctor and a laboratory will try to assist God with our conception while my husband watches from the other side of the room. I want to have sore breasts and be totally exhausted, then discover that my period is several days late. I want to buy a pregnancy test and pee on a stick. I want to see a second line. I want to cry tears of joy for the news we'd discover. I want to surprise my husband with the news that he is going to be a daddy. I want to see the look on his face. But I can't. Instead, I cry tears of pain every month when it doesn't happen and I cry to my husband, "Why??" and I apologize for being defective, because he is fine. I want to experience morning sickness. I want my hormones to go haywire. I want the 'pregnant glow.' I want to have my husband talk to my belly. But I can't. I want to take pre-natal vitamins. I want to eat for two. I want to schedule my first doctor's visit. I want to sit in the waiting room with other pregnant women and know that I am one of them. But I can't. Instead, I wonder if those pregnant women ever had problems conceiving and if they are taking that little miracle for granted. I think how cute they look as they waddle with their big bellies. I smile at babies that are not mine. I ache from loving someone I've never met. I want to hear the Doctor say, "You're pregnant. Your progress is right on schedule." But I can't. Instead, I hear my well-meaning friends say "just relax." Wow! If I had known anxiety was an effective form of birth control, I'd have tried it years ago! I wanted to surprise my parents with a new grandchild; instead I burdened them with the news that we are having problems conceiving. I want my life to change overnight. I want to read What to Expect When You're Expecting. But I can't. Instead, I read When Empty Arms Leave a Heavy Burden. I want to wear maternity clothes and rub my belly (but not too much because it annoys the heck out of me when pregnant women do that continuously!) I want to monitor the progress. I want to see the ultrasounds. I want to hear the heartbeat. I want stretch marks. I want to watch our baby grow. I want to feel the kicks. I want to be measured. But I can't. Instead, I give blood, get poked and prodded and have surgery. I pray for my eggs to grow and pray they fertilize. I take my temperature and try to interpret every little rise and dip, and how it compares with my temperature pattern last month. I examine every bodily secretion that comes out of my body, hoping and praying for spotting at just the right times, and no spotting at others. I take supplements. I wait. I pray. I wait for the one phone call that can make our life better. Or worse. I want to decorate the nursery. I want to childproof our home. I want to shop for adorable, soft, tiny outfits. I want to shop at Gymboree. I want to save money for the baby's future. But I can't. Instead, I imagine a crib in the empty room down the hall. I avoid the baby stores in the mall. I want to be the one to excuse myself to go nurse my baby. Instead, I'm the one stuck at the table with all the husbands. I want to use a car seat. I want to pump. I want to have my baby throw up all over me. I want to change dirty diapers. I want to give baths. I want to watch my husband hold our baby from across the room. But I can't. Instead, I watch him with our niece and love the way he loves her, but get my heart broken each time I see it. I want to see him love OUR baby. I want to tell my friends about how my baby learned to roll over, or say da-da, or how he took his diaper off and threw it across the room. I want to buy my baby new shoes. But I can't. Instead, we will spend our money on doctor appointments, tests and high tech procedures. We will spend our money on a dream. We may be left with an empty bank account. We may be left with empty arms. I want to share the experience with my pregnant friends. I want to compare symptoms. I want to be the guest of honor at a baby shower. But I can't. Instead, I watch my friends get pregnant quickly. I watch their bellies grow, attend their showers, see their pictures and try to be a good friend. I watch their lives change and our friendships change in front of my eyes. I want my belly to drop. I want my water to break. I want contractions. I want my husband by my side and my family in the waiting room. I want the pushing. I want the pain. I want to hear the cry. But I can't. Instead, I feel a different pain. I hear my own cry. Yes, I even hear the cry of my husband which hurts more than I had ever imagined. I want to hold our baby in my arms, with tears of joy streaming down our faces. I want the nurses to take a picture of us when our baby is only minutes old. I want to experience the miracle of birth, thinking, "We did it!", but knowing that God did it. But I can't. Instead, I hold my husband in my arms with tears of sorrow streaming down our faces and wonder what God's plan is for us and why we have to go through this. I want to pray that one extra special blessing be added to my life. And I do. I pray my 1000th unanswered prayer to God and hope that this time He answers. I pray for the miracle of life that only God can give. I pray that someday soon, He will give it to us. I want to be a mom. --- But I can't. Instead, I am right where God wants me to be: thankful for our blessings, searching out His will, basking in His grace, trusting in His perfect plan, praying for a change in status from a mom wannabe . . . to the mom I want to be. Written by Alison Kathleen Whitney 8/25/99

Originally Posted By binawow. its a very intense beautiful poem. Have to say that after going through all the infertility stuff including failed IVFs I just almost can't go back and revisit all the pain. A friend of mine a-mom who also went through it told me that after adoption, all the infertility pain stops and it all gets better and is finally ok. At the time, I just couldn't believe it. And now, I feel so blessed and so alright.. but I can't quite get myself to open that old closet full of pain to see what's still in it... guess that means its still hurts far underneath? does that mean that no matter how happy I am for our a-son that i'll always grieve down deep? god i hope that's not true but it might be. does anyone else who is farther down the road have any observations????

Originally Posted By NicksterMommyMy son is still an infant, so it's too soon for me to say. I really don't think about infertility much anymore because I am so blissfully happy being a mommy. However, I occasionally get a pang when my friends talk about having #2 so cavalierly. I have accepted that Nicholas might be the only child I will ever have, so I make a point of savoring every second with him. I have no regrets.We probably won't go the infant route w/#2, and I DEFINITELY will not go the infertility treatment route again, so this is probably it for baby stuff for me. That is a little sad. (Thanks to Cynic, I am putting a LOT of thought into adopting an older child in a few years.) But I feel so incredibly blessed to know what it is like to be mommy. It is amazing!! And every single second of the pain in that poem was worth it because it brought me to today -- mommy to the most amazing child in the world!!

Originally Posted By CPMommyThat made me cry. I want to Apologize to every Waiting Mom for complaining about my horrible pregnancy. We couldn't get pregnant for several months, then thought we were. We weren't it was a hormone inbalance causing pregnancy mocking symptoms. Back on the pill for several months, wait for the pill to leave you system and then we were successful. Then I had horrible morning sickness, etc. Lasted well into second trimeter and then I was in pre-term labor at 19 weeks gestation. My son would not have made it if he were born at that time. The doctor would have considered him a spontanious abortion. I was on heavy drugs to try and stop the contractions for almost a week I was in labor. We had the entire family coast to coast praying for this child. Finally, just before the doctors were going to force me to take a medication that would have possibly saved but harmed my son, they stopped.I was even lucky enough to be discharged from the hospital. Sent home to bed until I reasched full term. Laying in bed for 4 months sounds great but it's horrible. Then my labor was bad too they wanted to do an emergency c-section but I couldn't let them because my family lived far away and my Husband had to work. Stupid but GOD was with me and exactly 7 minutes before the doctor was going to disregard my wishes and cut me open to save my son, I dialated. I pushed him out in 12 minutes flat, he was in fetal distress. From that moment on things have been perfect. The outcome could have been so different, I thank the LORD daily for our little miracle.I'm telling all of this to say one thing Be careful what you wish for. I wanted a baby so despitely, my 17 year old, unmarried, still in high school was pregnant and I decided that was the final straw. I wanted a baby and I wanted it now. It didn't matter that I was working on a dual JD/MBA degree at the time. Of course stress played no part in my initial infertility of later difficulties. It was the primary cause and I was on full scholarship so from my hospital bed I called my professors and kept them stayed abreast of everything. How stupid if I had continued my son could have spent the rest of his life paying for my decision. Or worse he could have given his life. I quit school and have stayed at home with him but I had to learn the hard way what was important. I nedded to read that poem and so do most pregnant women. I was so busy stressing and complaining that I didn't enjoy any of my pregnancy. The stress and pain I went through was temporary and resulted in great joy. I really didn't understand true life long infertility. I am sorry. I always say, "just because you broke your leg doesn't mean it didn't hurt when I broke my toe." This is one time when there is really no comparison.It took all of that to make me ready to be THE Mom I Want To Be. GOD had to make me sit still and set better priorities. It took months in bed with nothing to be but pray, think, watch reruns, and read. Maybe you were already a great Mom with priorities in check so God gave the time to reflect and learn to someone that truly needed it. Your children came to you ready for you to do what you do best love and raise them. I'm a hardheaded child of God and I needed much more preparation to be the Mother I believe you already were. The test is how well do you do the job God has given you. If you do well he blesses you with more. I see you already have several little blessings you must be doing a great job. (NicksterMommy thank you for sharing that peom you really helped me remember my pregnancy in a new light.)