Welp, the twins were due Monday. I woke up early that day to the sound of construction next door, drove in the rain to the DMV, and sat for 2 hours only to be told to come back the next day. I drove back to work baby-less, listening to Jewel circa 1997, and imagined myself as part of a living meme with the trendy phrase: Current Mood hanging above my head. Then that night I wrote a blog entry, and lost the entire thing before I could post it. My “current mood” Monday resembled my angst-filled teen years. If only I had been wearing a flannel and ripped jeans, and driving my old Chevy Blazer, my meme would have been so cool.
I allowed myself to have a bad day on Monday,
it turns out…
“the twins” probably don’t exist. Turns out “our Rose” may not have even been pregnant. It seems that she had been scamming the adoption agency… and us. What appeared to be a Hallmark story, slowly turned into a Lifetime movie.
The details of this new saga are for another time. They are weighted, and somewhat unbelievable, and there are a lot of details that we are simply not sure of right now. Yet we do know a few things: 1) that we’re not adopting twins anytime in the immediate future, 2) that Rose lied about being a foster kid and what her intentions for adoption were, and 3) that we have a lot of twin baby crap in our house.
I cried the night I found out. Hard. Maybe for 5 minutes. It was the night before my baby shower with my friends, and it was still such a mystery at that point that I just kept moving forward. I can’t say I’ve cried much more since. When Ben and I finally concluded this adoption was definitely not happening, I actually felt a weird sense of relief. I think it was because Rose had been so emotionally demanding of me for the four months prior. In between preparing for not one, but two babies, and working, I was constantly giving any energy I had left to my relationship with her. I was exhausted, and possibly out of tears.
Three years ago, the day I found out my first fertility doctor was probably a sexual predator (to his unconscious patients), I cried. Hard. In my husband’s arms, for maybe 5 minutes. But then I cried many, many nights after that. Sometimes for hours. Late. I had many dark nights of the soul, wondering if God existed, if he was good, or if he was even powerful.
I had those nights alone.
And with God.
But not with you.
That doctor wasted 4 years of my treatment, and 4 of my 6 allowable IVFs. Then I gave him another year, trying to fight him, and mourning when I couldn’t.
I feel the need to explain this, because some people have asked why I’m not grieving more right now. I guess it’s because I have been grieving awhile. This journey has been going on for 8 years now, and Rose and her heartbreaking exploit were just 4 months of it. During the beginning of our journey not many people were involved, and that was nice because not many people could get let down.
But now here I am with God and you.
And that’s nice too, but…
For the past 7 weeks my heart has hurt the most when I look into your sad eyes. When you tell me that your heart goes out to me. When you say, I have no words. When you ask if there’s anything you can do. Then you ask if there’s anything I can do in retaliation, and I find myself wanting to fight Rose and the adoption agency for you.
I don’t know how to comfort you.
I long to give you all good news again. Hope.
What I can’t give you is Revenge.
Rose’s mother died 2 weeks ago. I suspected that she was dying (like I said, details are for another time), and I periodically checked Google for her obituary. There it was a few days before Mother’s Day. Believe me, right now that 24-year-old, motherless girl is not a stranger to her own dark nights, and chances are she had many that preceded our adventure with her.
Still, I also want you to know that Ben and I did not just accept this part of our story. We stood up for ourselves, and asked for what we believe was fair, and it was honored by the adoption agency (which we will no longer be working with).
It is tricky business keeping justice and revenge from getting tangled up together.
You may remember from my last entry that Rose’s ability to overcome hardship had restored in me a belief that this world can throw everything its got at you, and you still have the ability to make good choices; to become a person of high character. It’s ironic that her scam has strengthened my belief in this notion (or is that Alanis Morissette’s definition of irony; she’s confused me for life).
Years ago in those dark nights of the soul, I thought I was wrestling with God, but soon learned I was just angry with the darkness of this world…
and that God is good…
in ways that are difficult for our small minds to understand sometimes.
I was presented with a choice. The same one we are all presented with. Let in the darkness or the light. If I let the darkness in then I might become the next Rose or Dr. Hardy, or the subject of someone’s long, dramatic blog posts. If I let the light in, I might be able to be the light in other people’s lives instead.
I may not get to do everything I want in this life, but I will always have this choice which affects what my story will be like… in a big way.
Who will I be in my story?
A victim of the darkness or a patron of the light?
I don’t always make the right choice, that’s for sure, but this time I wanted to really try to.
Anyway, that’s the only hope I have for you right now. My hope. I am still full of it. Hope for the light to overcome the darkness. I have seen it. With great confidence I can tell you that during our adoption attempt, throughout our entire infertility journey, there have been many more people exuding light than those expelling darkness. It can be so easy to dwell on (and in) the darkness, ignoring all the light around us.
I know this might not be very exciting news initially, like the news of boy and girl twins, but it may be more valuable…?
Don’t get me wrong, I definitely believe it is good to mourn somedays (since then we can be comforted) but, I hope in sharing this with you, your future dark, lonely nights or rainy, DMV days will be a little bit brighter. (And that’s coming from a girl that sat at the DMV three mornings this week!)