"So, where's your uterus?"

Yes, someone has asked me that before, and this may sound morbid, but I honestly think they burned it.  I sometimes imagine a little cemetery behind hospitals where they bury the surgically removed body parts.  I know, totally gross and it's not even Halloween!

I was just thinking about my life the other day, and figured that while a good chunk of my dear blog readers already knew I no longer housed my uterus, there are some who are probably reading this and wondering what the heck I'm talking about.  You all know that Clint and I adopted Maelee last summer, but I'm not sure if you all know why we chose to adopt instead of baking another of our own. 

So let me start by answering some of the questions we get, and yes, we get a LOT weirder than these:

"Is Madison adopted?"  Nope.

"Is there anything you can do to have kids in the future?"  Nope.

"Have you considered surrogacy?"  Yes, my sister Yvette offered to be a surrogate, but adoption is actually cheaper for us {and Clint opted out of the idea}.

"Did you sue the doctor?"  Nope.  It honestly wouldn't have done any good - money can't change our situation.

"Did you have a lot of problems adopting an Indian baby?"  No, people, she's HAWAIIAN!

"Is Maelee Mexican?"  Nope.  Still Hawaiian!

"Do you have a period?"  Nope.  A perk of a hysterectomy.  No birth control either {yeah, people have asked.}.

"Do you have to take pills so you won't grow a beard?"  Nope.  I only had a partial hysterectomy meaning I only woke up missing my uterus.

"Aren't you SO glad you don't have to be pregnant anymore?  You just 'get' a baby!"  Aaaaah, this one makes me laugh.  No, I will never in a million years think that I'm "lucky" and will only have "put" my body through one pregnancy.  And VERY FEW adoptions are the equivalent of "just getting" a baby.  We went through WAAAAAAY more work and effort for Maelee than we did for Madi.

"Who do you blame?"  No one.  This is a hard thing, but it was meant to happen to our family.  It's just another block on the path, and we've turned it into a building block.

Ready for the story?

We tried for 10 months to get prego with Madi.  It really worried me because I was told in my Patriarchal Blessing {in the LDS church, we have the opportunity to receive this blessing to help us throughout our lives} that I would "be blessed with righteous, healthy children as {my} posterity".  That may not sound too bad, but it was the way it was worded that stuck out to me.  Instead of saying that my children would be righteous and healthy, it says that I would be blessed with these kids AS my family.  I always wondered if that meant I would have to adopt my children.  Clint and I even talked about it before we got married.  He served his mission {for the LDS church} in South Side Chicago, and came home with such a love of the people there that he wanted to adopt a little African-American girl and let his wife learn how to do fun things to her hair.  We thought that would be such a cool thing to look into after we were finished having our own kids.  {It's things like that that let me know God has a sense of humor!!} :O)

So anyway, we finally had 2 pink lines show up and after a LOT of jumping up and down, crying, hugging, etc., we began getting ready for this much-anticipated baby.

I had the best pregnancy.  I have been told by almost every woman who knew me when I was prego that I was the happiest lady with a love bump they've ever seen.  I loved the maternity clothes, I loved my big-o-belly, I loved my hair and nails {what a perk THAT was!!}, I loved feeling her move inside me... I loved it all {ok, really I didn't care for the nausea, heartburn and general achy-ness.  There, I admitted it.}.  I was working full time as a secretary for an elementary school, and going to school in the evenings so I could graduate before Madi came.  We were SO busy, SO excited, and had NO idea how much our lives were going to change in such a short space of time.

The day I hit 39 weeks I began having contractions.  Madi was backwards so I had back labor.  At one point I was doing my little swaying dance {lean over a table, couch, or chair and sway the hips} that helped relieve the pain and Clint's mom joked, "You know, it's dancing like that that got you like that in the first place!!"  So funny and SO embarrassing!!  LOL  The contractions hurt like hell and came anywhere from 2 - 15 minutes apart, depending on my level of activity, and lasted for 4 days before my water broke.  We went up to the hospital at one point during those 4 days, but I barely progressed and so was sent home to wait it out.

The very watered down version of the next 13 hours: 6pm my water broke.  Hospital.  5cm, 90%.  Epidural. RELIEF!  A couple movies.  Me laughing, Clint telling me to stop or some other prego lady is going to come in and back hand me.  10pm 7cm, 100%.  Stop progressing.  Pitocin.  Contractions every 60-90 seconds.  No progress.  4am off pitocin.  Doctor suggests C-section {which we had been warned he was quick to suggest and our hospital doesn't do v-bacs}.  We pray and say no.  5am doctor again recommends C-section.  We pray and say no.  6am doctor again recommends C-section.  We pray and say no.  7am still no progress, still stuck at 7cm.  Doctor strongly suggests C-section.  We pray and this time feel that it's finally time and agree.  Wheeled into OR where I find myself crying in fear of the pain of being cut open, only to have my wonderful anesthesiologist inform me that I'm already cut open.  WOW.  SO cool!  Clint amazed at all the blood.  7:40am Madison Camille born!  I wanted to hold her SO bad and just kiss her like crazy!  Later in recovery, massive hemorrhaging on my part.  Doctor on phone trying to get heli-vac to come get me.  Nurses say he's over-reacting.  More mass hemorrhaging.  Everyone worried.  Confusion.  Doctor tells me, "The helicopter is on it's way.  You have the option of taking it to a better equipped hospital, but you will bleed to death before you get there."  Oh nice.  Blessing.  More drugs.  Watching Clint disappear as they rush me back into surgery and the world goes black.

The next thing I remember is Clint calling my name.  You know how on the movies when someone is coming to, how everything starts off fuzzy and blurred and then slowly comes into focus and clarity?  That's really how it happens.  I could NOT open my eyes {turns out I was ridiculously swollen from all the fluids they had to pump into me - 9 units of blood and 6 liters of saline.  Yeeeeeah, I was a fatty!}.  ANYway, a nurse moved the sheet covering my legs and it brushed across my lower abdomen, {OW!  2 surgeries in less than 2 hours?!} when I cringed and told the nurse I must be having a contraction {after you have a baby your uterus continues to contract until it's shrunk back down to normal size.} she looked at me and said, "Oh honey, I'm afraid that's just not possible."  It took me a minute to realize what she meant by that, but when I did... I cried.  I had begged my doctor to do anything he could to avoid a hysterectomy, I almost didn't sign the waiver.   But when he said that if I didn't sign it and it came down to that or letting me bleed to death, he would have to - by law - do that latter... I was heartbroken.  I was only 21 and Madison was our first baby.  We were NOT finished yet.  So many thoughts pounded me, each one leaving me more and more desolate and shattered to the point that I could barely look at Clint when I finally was able to be wheeled into the ICU.  What do you say?  There is no possible way to be prepared for a moment like that.

I remember holding Madi in my arms and soaking up her sweetness.  I was SO thankful that the problem was with me and not with her.  I knew we were lucky; she was perfect and I was alive.  Still, when they took our precious baby girl back to the nursery for the night, I struggled to prepare myself for our first time alone together.  I looked up at my dear husband, totally lost for words, praying for comfort.

When our eyes finally met, I felt my burden lift.  Calmness replaced panic, assurance replaced doubt, and love replaced fear of the future.  I have had few experiences in my life when I was absolutely over-come by the burning of the Spirit to the point of literally losing my breath and feeling my heart skip a few beats.  The emptiness inside me was instantly filled with the warmth of my Heavenly Father's love for me and in the midst of this out-pouring of His love for us, I heard the words from my Patriarchal Blessing, "you will be blessed with righteous, healthy children as your posterity."  The words that had caused me worry, suddenly brought relief.  There were no doubts.  I had no more fears.  I didn't {and still don't} understand WHY this happened, but I KNEW {and still know} that it was going to be ok.  Heavenly Father had allowed this to happen, and he never gives us more than we can handle.

When I could finally catch my breath, I wiped away my tears and together Clint and I said, "Ok, we'll adopt."  Just like that.

Now, I'm not saying that I haven't had my hard days, that I haven't broken down and had a pity party when everyone around me is prego and I'm not.  I'm not that strong.  BUT I have NEVER doubted or forgotten that comfort and peace that I felt in that ICU room.  I have NEVER wavered in my faith that Heavenly Father will take care of the growth of our family if we make sure to be prepared.  Yes, this is a hard thing.  Yes, it's scary and frustrating sometimes.  But more importantly, it's an adventure {and a HUGE learning experience} that has made us appreciate our sweet girls more than we may have otherwise.  And, I can honestly say that adoption is a wonderful thing.  It's such a sweet miracle, and to be part of such a Christlike act is an amazing gift that not many have the opportunity to witness.  Plus, we GOT to be pregnant.  We have our OWN daughter who has so much of us in her, and that is a massive comfort to see myself in her and remember that I had that chance.  Most people who have to adopt don't get that, so again, we are lucky.  The blessings we have received because of this experience are without number. 

How can we be sad or have regrets when we are surrounded by giggling girls who glow with God's love for us?  We love our beautiful daughters, and we wouldn't have it any other way.