“Do you want to be a “mom”, or do you want to experience pregnancy?”, my husband asked as he sat on the edge of the bed, which became my place of solace.

We had exhausted our finances on fertility treatments, and we were emotionally “spent”.

That was the beginning of our adoption journey.

We contacted the children’s adoption agency. We set up a meeting. I was gun-ho. This was it. We were going to be parents. We read the recommended books; we had professional pictures taken of us with the dogs, which were our fur babies. We built a portfolio and shared it. I let my friends, relatives, just anyone and everyone know we were adopting. 

We were going to have a family and we were so excited.

We sat at an open adoption meeting. We met and talked to other excited expectant parents to be, all there to learn how to build or complete their families through the open adoption process. We took notes. We listened to other couples’ stories and although, in a way, felt they were our competition. I mean what if their profile is chosen with ours by a woman or a young couple looking for the best people to place their baby with. Comparing us and deciding the best suited to love and raise their child, Oh, the pressure.

We were young. Our story did not compare to some of the others. We were simple. We didn’t live in a large home in the suburbs of a city. We hadn’t endured as many losses as others had. I had so many doubts. I didn’t know if others would find us “worthy” enough to give us a child. All the uncertainties, I felt them.

I sat there that day, taking it all in, but something wasn’t sitting right with me. I was nauseated.  I sat there so overwhelmed with the malodorous from donuts coming from the other room. Although, they were in the other room, I wanted to throw them out the door to the dumpster.  I was so glad when the morning break was over and those disappeared only to have them replaced with cookies for the afternoon break.

I was exhausted and the afternoon sessions were long although the presentations were very informative, it just was very hard to keep myself from nodding off. It wasn’t that I was not interested or that my heart wasn’t in it. I was very much so.

We were over the moon for each other and for our family to be.

On the way home, my husband teased me and was convinced that I was pregnant. I was not even going to entertain that thought, as we had moved on from that and were going to adopt a baby. I was so over the “could I be” and being tricked into thinking I was pregnant, as I had done what felt like zillion pregnancy tests in the last few years only to find disappointment and feeling of failure.

Over time, I had to face the inevitable. I had that bloated feeling and of course, some of those other symptoms that are tell-tell for pregnancy. I had a pregnancy in the past year, so all felt familiar, despite my denial.  I drove to town and bought a pregnancy test. I drove 15 miles home. The two lines turned blue. I drove back to town. I bought a few more. I bought ten.  I dipped all of them. Yep, I was pregnant. I called my husband home to a counter full of pregnancy sticks from Dollar General.

We had so many mixed emotions. Should we be excited? Should we call a doctor? Does this take us out of the pool for adoption? Do we tell anyone? What if something happens?  What if we lose this baby, then what?

We were very skeptical as we were told that we would never conceive on our own without the help of invitrofertilization along with other means, but there we were standing in front of a counter full of "positive" pregnancy tests. 

This pregnancy had changed everything for us. It changed everything that we had been working for. One may have thought we would have been so overjoyed, and we were, but we were also mourning and had moved forward and also were so aware how fast something that you love and want so badly could be taken away.

We had experienced a miscarriage just six months earlier and our loss was still fresh. All we could do was pray and trust in His plan, as this time it was on Him and only Him.

There was nothing “boosted”, no drugs given to “release”, or to artificially inseminate.

This time was all on Him and was all on His timing. God's timing and no one can mess with that.

All we could do is trust.

Little did we know that day, way back then, that we would be thrice blessed. All born almost two years apart.

That was the beginning of my “Boy Mom” life.

God is in control. Always.