Thank you!

I'm in awe at the wonderful support I received and continue to receive from my last post.

Thank you!

Here I thought I would be bashed big-time and part of me expected people to come banging on my door to yell at me for being selfish and always "wanting more and never satisfied".

But that didn't happen.

I was so honored as I received quite a few emails and messages from people thanking me for my honesty and some even sharing their own scars they had which made me feel good that people could open up to me like that and relate. Thank you for sharing.

You helped me feel normal and human. Two things I struggle to feel sometimes.

I'm an open book. While I hate hurting other people, I'm also an honest person. Sometimes maybe a little too honest and open. But if my honesty can help someone else, it's a huge blessing to me.

Not being able to carry Hannah is something I really struggle with and honestly something I don't think I'll ever get over.

I know it won't be long before Hannah starts asking questions. She's already into the "Why?" stage. Oh, yeah...I hear "Why?" more times than I can count in a day and she hears "Because I said so" just as many times.

One day she's going to hear about babies being in their mommy's tummy and I can hear her proudly tell me she came from my tummy. With a sad heart, I'll tell her "No, honey, you came from someone else's tummy. You came from my heart".

As I try to explain that to her, I can hear her asking "Do you wish I would've came from your tummy? Would you change the way I am?"

With a smile, I'll tell her "Yes, baby, I honestly do wish you would've came from my tummy, but no, I wouldn't change the way things happened at all. You wouldn't be the Hannah we know and love. You may not have gotten my nose or other features, but you're so perfect just the way you are and I wouldn't change one bit of you."

Then I have the honor of telling her something not many people do: "You are so lucky Hannah. You have 2 mommies who love you so much. One loves you so much she gave you to another mom to raise you so you could have a better life and another mom who loves you so much she wouldn't give you up for anything. You are so special and so loved. You are loved so much, not just once, but twice."

Yes, I grieve not carrying Hannah and I always will.

Yes, I wish things could've been different.

No, I wouldn't change my sweet, beautiful daughter at all. She's perfect just the way she is.

I have a confession

Warning: For those readers of my blog who are waiting for your miracle, this post might be a bit sensitive for you. I don't want to purposely hurt anyone's feelings so I wanted to be honest that this might hurt you so you don't have to read it if you don't want to. I wanted to give you a warning and a HUGE HUG.

Many people have the assumption that once you've struggled with infertility and then you finally get your miracle, the journey is forgotten. Kinda like a treasure at the end of a long road. It's in your past. You got your miracle. Everything is cool now.

I can tell you, the scars never go away. And for me, one scar has only gotten bigger.

I could write TONS and TONS of blog posts about all the happy, joyful experiences we've had with infertility and adoptions. I can tell you we've had so many positive times and many experiences that I wouldn't give up for the world. I won't go into detail right now as frankly, there are so many that it would take forever to list them all.

That being said, there is a haunting scar that continues to haunt me all the time.

I never got to carry Hannah.

My dream was always to be pregnant and carry. It's all I ever wanted. It was one of the reasons we went through 12 IUIs, 1 IVF cycle and 2 FETs. I wanted to carry so bad, probably just as much as I wanted to be a mom.

I've heard so many well-meaning comments:

"You didn't have to go through labor!" To clarify, you go through months of labor with adoption--just a different kind.

"You can still have your figure!" Not a selling point for me

"You didn't have to have morning sickness" Again, not a selling point for me.

"You don't have stretch marks!" Please don't remind me of that.

I could go on and on.

I've heard stories from women who hated pregnancy. I'll never know if I would've been one of those women.

I never knew what it was like to feel Hannah's first kick, her hiccup, what made her move, etc. I didn't get to hear her heartbeat during the first ultrasound. I didn't get to hear them tell me "It's a girl!". I didn't get to watch her grow on ultrasound pictures or watch my belly grow. I can only go by what her birthmother told me.

And it hurts.

I know I was one of the lucky adoptive moms who got to be in the delivery room. I got to feel Hannah kick her birthmother's stomach--a moment I'll never forget. I got to hear Hannah's heartbeat on the monitor. I got to hold the birthmother's leg as she pushed Hannah into this world. I was the one who cut Hannah's umbilical cord. So many adoptive mothers don't get that opportunity and I did. I feel blessed.

I was also able to hold her birthmother's hand as she was screaming in pain and tell her "I'm so sorry. I'd trade places with you in a heartbeat!". To which her birthmother squeezed my hand and said "I know you would, Tammy".

She got it. She understood.

For me it wasn't about just being a mom. It was about bringing my child into this world.

To some it may not seem like a big deal, especially to those who have experienced pregnancy. But I never did. So to me, it is a big deal and especially as Hannah gets older. I feel like I lost out on something so special.

The first couple days when Hannah was born, I never really felt like her mother. It wasn't that people didn't necessarily treat me bad, but there were rights while she was in the hospital. Everything was up to the birthmother, even after we signed the papers, as long as she was in the hospital. We couldn't see Hannah in the nursery unless the birthmother said it was okay. The birtmother made the choices in regards to getting pictures done, when to feed her, whether to give her a pacifier, etc. Not a big deal but not how I wanted to bring home my baby.

I wanted to be back in Wisconsin, recovering, having my midwife deliver the baby who had done all the IUIs and consults, etc. I didn't want to be states away watching another woman give birth to my baby. I wanted things so different.

Even when Hannah was born and I wanted to start nursing her right away (yes, it's possible. :) I induced lactation), they wouldn't let me until Hannah was released. I'll never forget when the one nurse said to me "Until you're released from the hospital, the baby isn't yours." She pointed to another nurse and said "It would be like letting her nurse the baby if we let you nurse her".

I wanted to scream, "No it's not like that at all! I'm Hannah's mother!"

Can you see where it would feel different?

I still can't go to baby showers. I tried to go to one shortly after Hannah was born, thinking I'd be fine. Well, as you can imagine a lot of the talk at the shower was about labor, the stories about delivery, etc. I couldn't contribute and I left in tears.

I can't go into an OB department at all. I've only went in when Mark's grandson was born and it was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I'm a medical transcriptionist and I still have difficulty typing up a Labor and Delivery Report or ultrasound reports, especially those by my midwife. It's just hard.

I wish I could've carried Hannah.

Now you may read this and think I'm acting selfish. I got the baby, I'm happy--what do I have to complain about?

I would have to agree with you. I am so happy and I wouldn't trade Hannah for anything in the world.
And I got my miracle. What more could I ask for?

I guess I'm just human and while I'm so incredibly happy with Hannah, there's still that part of me that is sad about the part I missed out on.

Infertility comes with many battle scars. Scars that people don't even realize they are there. Scars people don't know about unless it's shared. Scars that can fade but never go away.

This is my scar.

My dream is here. My sweet Hannah is my daughter. My dream of motherhood has been realized.

But, that scar of experiencing pregnancy with Hannah will always be there.

It will always hurt.

A big reason for our suffering

Everyone suffers--no question about that. But everyone's suffering is different.

Since we got married in 2001, our suffering has stemmed mostly around Mark's diabetes, kidney and heart failure and endless surgeries.

Then when Mark was feeling a little better, we suffered with about 9 years of infertility.

I'd love to tell you I've never questioned why but that would be a lie. I try to be an upbeat, positive, "glass half full" type of person but it doesn't always work out that way.

And Mark is the same way. I admire him a lot as most of the time he is so positive, not questioning why he has diabetes and suffered the way he has. But sometimes he does get frustrated as I think we all would.

But one thing I know is that there is a reason for everything, even suffering and I know Hannah is a big reason for our suffering.

No, I'm not talking about the terrible 2s.

When we were told we were matched with Hannah's birthmother, I asked the social worker at the agency if the birthmother knew about Mark's transplant and health issues. She assured me she did. It had been in our profile as we didn't want to hide anything and wanted the birthmother to know the whole story. But I also wanted to really make sure she knew.

As anyone who adopts is, we were very curious as to why the birthmother chose us but I was especially curious. Why would she choose us knowing Mark's health?

When I asked her I was so touched by her response:

"Tammy, I've been through a lot in my life. When I was reading the profiles, you guys really stood out to me. I knew you guys were the ones. You've been through so much and you remind me of me. I wanted to give this gift to you guys because you deserve it and you need to know good things do happen."

It brought tears to my eyes.

I know a lot of the birthmother's history and she has been through a lot. I've mentioned tiny bits publicly but I will be sharing all of it with Hannah. And she will decide what she wants to share. It's her story to share or keep to herself.

What an amazing testimony that our struggles and journey didn't prohibit us from adopting, but helped us. If it weren't for the struggles we had, we wouldn't have been chosen and Hannah wouldn't be with us.

We'd take years of suffering for a minute with Hannah and we've been blessed to have 808 precious days with her which equals 1,163,520 minutes with her (yes, I actually figured that out).

When Mark has his very rare moments of the frustration or wondering why he has to go through so much, I'm quick to remind him that if he didn't have the health issues he has we wouldn't have Hannah. That's all it takes to get him out of a funk and realizing what a gift the "suffering" really is.

Our suffering God gave us brought us Hannah. Things truly do happen for a reason and I'm so blessed God gave us the trials and tribulations He did.

How we were approved for adoption

I often get asked either directly or indirectly how we got approved to adopt. With Mark's health issues, I can see where people would wonder that and I admire those who've come right out and ask.

My answer is always the same "It was God".

You see, I never in my wildest dreams ever thought we'd be approved to adopt. In fact, I had asked several people who had gone through a home study and confirmed what I thought--Mark would never pass the health exam. I had even written several blog posts about it.

One day Hannah will read those in her teenage years, roll her eyes and tell me "Mom, you really know nothing".

Maybe I should try to delete those posts...

I'll never forget when a fellow blogger, who has health issues who had adopted, emailed me and wanted to help. She asked if she could email her consultant and see what she could recommend or if she could help. I told her that would be great although in my mind I'm really thinking it was going to be a dead end but what a sweet friend to try to help.

I will forever be grateful to this friend as I know she was the one who ultimately started opening the doors.

I was extremely surprised when I got an email from her consultant saying that she had hope that she could help us and asked if she could email a few agencies in Wisconsin to see if any would work with us. I appreciated her help so much so of course I said yes, but again I was thinking she was going to find the dead end.

Nope, no dead end. In fact we actually had choices.

She had found several agencies willing to work with us and said that just because Mark had health issues didn't automatically disqualify us. My heart sank, though, when I found out he would need to pass a health exam AND get a letter from his doctor.

We had a better chance of getting struck by lightning than having Mark pass a health exam.

But at this point we had nothing to lose and I knew if we didn't at least try it we would always wonder "what if".

So I called the agency the consultant recommended and we set up an interview. I'm thinking we were throwing away the down payment of $2000 but again, we wanted to know we tried everything we could.

The health exam wasn't as detailed as I had thought...just a simple exam. But still an exam the same. Our social worker said she needed a letter explaining Mark's diagnosis, his life expectancy, how he was doing and if he could care for a child.

Most people stress about their house during a home study, or the finances, or something else. There is always something to stress about. The only thing I was completely and totally stressed about Mark passing this health exam and how this letter was going to affect our chances.

We're very close to Mark's doctor. I guess years of being a patient will do that to you. We probably see his doctor more than we see family. So he knew our struggle with infertility and that we were going down the adoption route. I knew he would gladly write the letter for us. When I explained what they needed in the letter and they needed to know his life expectancy, he rolled his eyes and said "Don't they realize that nothing is guaranteed and even you could die tomorrow?"

Well, now that's comforting....

In all seriousness, he did a fantastic job writing the letter and explaining things. A big sigh of relief.

Until we were told we would also need a letter from Mark's kidney doctor.

At this point I was a bit frustrated. Mark sees several different types of doctors including a cardiologist, neurologist, kidney transplant doctor, etc. and I thought we were just going to keep going around in circles, needing more and more letters.

But the social worker assured me that all she needed was one from his kidney doctor with the same answers to the same questions.

This one made me more nervous. While we were close to our kidney doctor, we weren't nearly as close to him as Mark's primary doctor and he had no idea about our infertility and wanting to adopt. I thought maybe he'd laugh in our face.

But actually the opposite was true. When I called to ask him for the letter, he was so thrilled for us and honored to write a letter. He asked a ton of questions about things and really wanted to know about how things were going. We had so much support from him and it was an amazing feeling.

And the letter was even better. I cried reading it as he had such wonderful things to say about both of us and how great Mark was taking care of himself.

I knew then that we could pass that part no problem now. Every door opened up and just when I thought things would close up, God just kept opening them.

And I know the reason---because Hannah was meant to be our daughter. She's a mix of Mark and I in so many ways. I can't imagine a more perfect mix of the 2 of us.

It's a God thing and the people God put in front of us to help us along the way that we got approved. Truly proof that with God all things are possible.

Living a dream

One blog I've followed for years has been Angie Smith from Bring The Rain. Short summary Angie was pregnant with her daughter & found out about halfway through that her daughter would not survive. Rather than terminate the pregnancy Angie & her husband chose to carry their daughter & they were able to spend 2 hours in this earth with her. 

Her blog has been a huge inspiration to me for years. It was always a dream of mine to hear her speak. 

So when I heard she was coming to Day Set Apart, a yearly conference about an hour away, I was determined to go & see her. Not only did I hear her speak but I also got to meet her & she signed a book for Hannah. She's even more amazing in person. I wish we would've had longer to talk but I know we'll see each other for eternity so we'll have plenty of time to talk. 

It was an amazing experience to meet her & I'm so glad I did 

He knew I was there

First of all, for those who don't follow me on Facebook, Mark is home now and getting stronger and stronger every day. We are so relieved he is doing better.

Thank you for all your thoughts and prayers. It means so much to us.

We are so blessed to have so many people praying and all their wonderful thoughts and words of encouragement.

However, there was one comment that bothered me and I had to blog about it.

Someone told Mark "We decided not to come down to the Cities to see you because you were so out of it and there wasn't any point"

Open mouth in shock.

I can tell you that comment bothered me so terribly much.

It's true Mark was out of it. In fact he doesn't remember any of the hospitalization while down in the Cities. He had a breathing tube in for 4 days. He couldn't talk. He could barely follow commands.

But he knew I was there.

The doctors and nurses kept encouraging me to talk to him. They said he may not respond visibly but it helps him to come to just talking to him and holding his hand. And guess who he first responded to and squeezed their hand? Mine.

He knew.

When his sister-in-law called one time she wanted to talk to Mark so I put the phone up to his ear and even though he had the breathing tube in and couldn't talk, he nodded and gave 2 thumbs up.

He knew.

When I held his hand he squeezed it so hard. He didn't want to let it go. At times he rubbed my hand, as if comforting me and making sure I was okay.

He knew.

But my most favorite time when he proved he knew I was there. Mark underwent several tests while he had the breathing tube in to see how he would do breathing on his own. During one of them, the nurse's back was to us. I grabbed his hand. The nurse suddenly turned around and said "Oh, I was wondering why he suddenly relaxed! You took his hand!"

He knew.

What would have happened if I had the same attitude that it just didn't matter if I was there? How scary it would've been for Mark to not hear a familiar voice and only hear voices he had never heard before. Would he have fought as hard? I can tell you whenever I told him I was right by his side and wasn't leaving, he would nodd and squeeze my hand so much. He needed and wanted me there.

He knew.

True, he doesn't remember it now, but he knew at the time.

I admit, it wasn't easy to be there--not at all. Never mind the fact that I was sick, but to sit there all day watching your husband suffer and not respond is a horrible nightmare. I wanted to cry and scream. Most of the time I was alone, only in the company of my husband who couldn't talk and doctors and nurses whom I had never met before in my life. I hated it.

But I wasn't there for me. I was there for Mark, to support him, to love him and to let him know I wasn't leaving his side and I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

For a minute, let's just say my presence didn't help Mark, that he wasn't responding to me and the doctors said it didn't matter if I was there. What if Mark wouldn't have made it? What if he would've taken a turn for the worse? How would I have felt if I hadn't been there and he wouldn't have made it?

I shudder to think of that.

I would've wanted to know I did everything I could to be there for Mark until the very end. I would've wanted to know I was there and that just maybe he knew I was there.

Not that I wasn't there because "there just wasn't any point".

God gave me some special moments while Mark couldn't communicate and was unresponsive for awhile. Moments that proved Mark knew I was there and could hear my voice, feel my touch and hopefully give him some strength to keep fighting.

As nightmarish as the experience was, I'm so thankful God gave me that.

He knew I was there. He knew I wasn't going to leave. He knew someone he loved was there. He knew he could fight through it because he had someone who loved him so much that she would sit right there with him the whole time.

He may not remember now, but he knew at the time and that's enough for me.