“You didn’t consider IVF?” That was the unexpected reaction I received from a friend when I shared that my son was adopted from Ethiopia. My response? No, I didn’t. I didn’t attempt anything. After experiencing three traumatic miscarriages in a row, I wondered what else was left to try.
My doctor—a not-so-great individual, but that’s another story—referred me to a Women’s Reproductive Clinic for extensive testing and various options. He sat there with his hands folded, shook his head, and quietly stated, “I don’t doubt you will conceive. You might just need some assistance.”
“I don’t doubt you will conceive…” My partner, Alex, and I had made the decision at 27 that we were ready to start a family. I walked into that doctor’s office with determination, saying, “I want to get pregnant. What should I do?” His response was blunt: “Have a lot of sex.”
It sounded simple enough. After all, I had seen countless friends and family members become parents. How complicated could it be? Yet there I was, facing the aftermath of three miscarriages. After months of pregnancy tests, lab visits, two D&C procedures, and countless tears, I was left with nothing but the words, “I don’t doubt you will conceive.”
Maybe I had lost the desire to conceive altogether.
I called the clinic about the referral, and a few days later, I received an overwhelmingly large packet filled with forms. It included medical histories for both Alex and me, testing options, and more. The packet sat untouched on our coffee table for months, adorned with photos of smiling mothers cradling their babies—it made me feel miserable. I would occasionally say to Alex, “Should we fill this out?”
“Not now…maybe later.” He would return to his reading without a glance.
“Okay, I’m not feeling it either.”
Then one day, I asked, “Are we going to go through with this? Should we get the tests and start this process?” This question ignited a long-overdue conversation. We felt we had endured enough; we were hesitant to take that next step. We both realized that pursuing treatments could lead to a child but also bring immense stress and the possibility that one of us might be the “problem.” Stepping away from that path meant we avoided placing blame and lifted the heavy cloud that hung over us. I tossed the packet in the trash, and for the first time in months, I slept soundly. Alex seemed relieved too.
“So, shall we explore adoption?” I proposed.
“Sounds good.” His few words were like a chorus of agreement—an enthusiastic endorsement of our new direction.
Adoption had always been part of our discussions; both of us had envisioned it as part of our family plan. I still remember being 18 and asking him, “What do you think about adoption? I’ve always wanted to adopt.”
“Sounds good.” Even back then, I sensed I had found the right partner.
When the adoption agency’s packet arrived, we filled it out immediately. We signed up for an info session, researched countries, and bought books. The mission was on—filled with excitement rather than anxiety. I knew we had made the right choice; this was the path meant for us.
The wait was excruciating! I felt impatient, even frantic, but never truly stressed. When we first saw EJ’s photo, everything changed. All the attempts, the losses, and the worry melted away. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the journey we had taken. Without it, we wouldn’t have been gazing at the image of our adorable child.
We both understood the possibility of having a biological child still existed. My new OBGYN had even mentioned it might not require IVF. About a year after EJ joined our family, we started discussing the possibility of having more children. I felt guilty at times for being content with just one child and not pursuing a biological option. However, Alex reassured me with, “One and done!”—our new family motto.
I hold immense respect for women undergoing fertility treatments; it requires remarkable strength and perseverance. Personally, I wouldn’t have been able to navigate that road. It’s crucial to remember that the paths women take to motherhood are diverse. Not all of us follow a linear route; some opt for alternative paths. Mine may not be the conventional one, but I am grateful every single day that it took a different turn.
This article was originally published on July 26, 2010.
Summary
In her journey to motherhood, Jenna shares her experiences of facing multiple miscarriages, the overwhelming nature of fertility treatments, and the eventual embrace of adoption. After a difficult period filled with uncertainty and emotional turmoil, she and her partner, Alex, decided to pursue adoption, which ultimately led them to their son, EJ. Jenna reflects on the unique paths women take towards motherhood and expresses gratitude for the direction her life took.