My adoption journey has been ease-ier than most. I say that because I've known since I was 14 that I probably wouldn't be able to carry children. It was the first question I asked my pediatric neurologist. I realize I was only 14, but I'm a planner. I've had 12 years to ease into adoption. It didn't come as a sudden shock in a doctor's office. Well, it did, actually, but 12 years ago. I haven't had multiple failed attempts at getting pregnant. We haven't tried fertility, I haven't stood on my head and prayed. I haven't miscarried. Instead, I started researching at 14. Then again in high school, and again for my final thesis in college. It went from probably, to most likely not, to definitely not about two years ago after some very fervent prayer. Our journey has been gradual and different than most, but it's still hard.
I still get really sad that I won't ever be pregnant. I won't ever see a pink plus sign. I won't serve my husband a dinner of baby back ribs, baby carrots, and a salad with baby corn in it, then announce that we're pregnant. (That was a plan developed when I was younger.) I won't do a belly cast. I won't feel my baby kick. I won't breast feed. I won't...a lot of things. It is very sad and a hard thing to swallow, even with my first-hand knowledge of how AMAZING adoption is. So, I try and think about the positives-- like how our kids won't have diabetes and cancer threats running rampant in their genes...stuff like that.
But what really gets me and is the hardest part to swallow is this: I won't see us in our children. I want our kid's to have beautiful eyes like Spencer. We would make really attractive children. Now, I know that it's not entirely ruled out. People never believe I'm adopted because I look just like the Holly with my dad's face shape.
But, let's be honest, it's probably not in the cards for us. I just always wonder what they'd look like.
To my comfort, I found this thing online. Remember on How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days when she uses Photoshop to composite their photos to see what their kids would look like? (Ps. That would be sooooo hard. Huh, Kari?) Well, I found an instant one on makemebabies.com. I present to you, our composite children:
Yeah...so maybe it's a good thing. ;) Yikes.
Ps. For the sake of me not wanting to rip your face off, please don't leave me comments about how "lucky" I am to "get to keep my figure" and "not have to push a watermelon out of my vag" etc. Thanks.