2 failed adoptions, 1 dimpled baby, 0 regrets

This may be the most important post I shall ever write. It’s the story of how I reached destination motherhood.

Mine was never destined to be a boy meets girl tale. This I know, because I live a sitcom/dark comedy type of life. It’s just that dramatic! Simple was never going to cut it. God knows I can take a joke. So he sent me on the scenic route.

I have never been the pinning for a baby type of mother. I had this filed in my brain under: It’s going to happen one day. I just got on with living. Changing jobs and cities every couple of years. Getting drunk and stupid. Having flings with handsome and not-so-handsome strangers. All the things that girls in their early twenties do.

Then just before my 23^rd birthday I was diagnosed with endometriosis and Polycystic ovaries. The doctors mentioned that woman with these conditions have trouble conceiving. Even then I didn’t panic. Having never been in a long term relationship a baby had never been a part of the equation. I filed this information under: Worry about this later.

As luck would have it I met the guy a few months later. Laverne and Sergio sitting in a tree {Edinburg airport} K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First came love. Then Came Marriage. Then came the almost matching tattoos but the baby carriage, not so much.

I think I intrinsically knew that I would not conceive naturally. On account that every month I felt like I swallowed a cat that was going berserk inside there. Ripping my insides to shreds. I took enough pharmaceuticals every month to make an atomic bomb.

When my husband started baby talk and suggested we try to get pregnant naturally first, I had to explain that no contraceptives for 3 years would constitute as trying for the average couple.

I had to reopen the files and worry about it NOW. Off to the gynae and after a battery of tests including being injected with blue dye. My eggs were tested for quality. The news hit us like a Mike Tyson blow to the head. NEVER. GONNA. HAPPEN.

I had to have an emergency hysterectomy that very week to remove a baby size cyst growing inside of me. Explains why I was eating for two all these years. {Joke}

I was disappointed. My husband was devastated. We had to face the reality I would never carry a child and my genes could not be carried on unless you count cell cloning.

I am not convinced mine are such great genes to begin with but I felt awful that I was cheating my husband out of something he longed for and had spoken about from the day we met. A little mini-me.

We mourned the loss and we moved on. We focused on the PROS {yes they are some}

• No more crazy demonic PMS episodes {My husband thanks you Dr. Nameless}
• No more painful periods. I literally popped champagne.
• No disappointing negative pregnancy tests

A lot of options were taken off the table. IVF and Infertility was no longer something we may have had to consider. It saved us years of possible painful failed IVFs, not to mention the financial aspect.

We only had two options. Surrogacy with donor eggs and Adoption. I could go either way. The result was the same. Somebody else’s boobs would take the hit.

We looked into surrogacy but I was not convinced that the stress and the money spent with no guarantee would make sense for me. My heart was drawn towards adoption. Luckily my husband agreed.

I sent a cute email to my family and close friends letting them all know. Why? Because I didn’t want to have retell the story over and over. I wanted to get back to living.

Just as soon as I pressed send we got a call from a friend of a friend who knew someone that knew someone that was currently pregnant and unable to care of the child. Our heart skipped a beat and we jumped right in. It was a sign.

We did everything that expectant parents did. Baby books. Nursery filled with Baby Essentials. Cute Announcement sent. Facebook announcement made. Extravagant Baby Shower over. Check, check, check, and flippen check.

We flew to Cape Town a week before her due date to be present at the birth. The day before the birth we were called into the social workers office and got the worst news of my life even worse than I wouldn’t have my own children. The mother had changed her mind. We were shocked. What the hell just happened?

We were devastated and we were angry. Every emotion hit us at once. I had tried to prepare myself for this scenario. You see I am a closet romantic. I romanticized the situation. Hope turned into excitement and that possibility was filed under: It won’t happen to us. Had we missed something? Yes we did. All the warning signs.

We packed everything away, mourned the loss and moved on.

Fast forward a year later and again we were approached by a woman who had heard our story and offered her own unborn child because as her 4^th child, she felt God wanted us to be the parents to this child. I was more that cautious. I was sceptical. My husband on the other hand got completely swept away. He went to all the 3D scans and took the mother for her prenatal care. And then it happened. One week before her due date she completely disappeared.

We mourned the loss and recovered AGAIN.

She returned holding a 3 week old bouncing baby boy and asked if we would still consider taking her son. I would not. It was not easy but it was the right decision. I asked her to please contact the social worker if she was really serious and let them handle the case. We never heard from her again.

Fast forward to six months later. We are like roaches my husband and I. We keep coming back.

We contacted a private adoption agency who talked us through their process.

We filled in the forms, went for the orientation, filled in some more forms, went to parenting classes classes, filled in some more forms, did the police clearance, filled in another batch of forms, did our adoption book, filled in some forms, had the home visits and yes you guessed it filled in some forms.

We realised it may take months or even years so we made a conscious decision not to stress about about it. We went back to living our lives.

Merely 5 months later on a Thursday Afternoon while sitting and having my nails done I got the call.

The voice on the other side of the phone said “Its Blanche from ABBA, Can you come in tomorrow morning for a meeting?” I almost fell off my chair. I knew. This is the call that changes the life of every perspective adoptive parent. A gambit of emotions flooded me.

First I had a huge night in front of me, the launch party of my business in under 2 hours. (Thank God for pictures and videos I might have missed it all under the haze.)

How do you carry on with a normal tasks? After hearing “You would have a baby in 1 day. Have a lovely evening”

I got dressed, had my makeup done, welcomed people to my event. My mind never far from tomorrow morning. I ignored the constant prickling of my skin. Glasses were raised, speeches were made and lengthy conversations were had. I silenced my racing thoughts. Smiling lots of smiling. Drinking Champagne, Lots of Champagne. All the while just under the surface, slowly coursing through my veins was mild panic.

Did I mention that Sergio was away travelling? I got home to silence, the biggest night of my career behind me, my husband travelling away until tomorrow morning. Full blown panic set in. Will I be able to do this? Will I even be a good mother? I remember texting two of my very good friends at a very ungodly hour asking them these very questions.

Friday morning rolled on like every other morning. Except it wasn’t like every other morning. This would be the day.

I was sitting in across from the adoption specialist, slightly hung over, a bit numb. Listening to her talking nodding appropriately (I hope). All I could see was the folder filled with information of the child that was to be mine. She was talking, asking me things, I was answering them. My eyes were fixed on the folder in front of me. Finally she turned the folder over and on it stood a picture of the most beautiful thing I would ever see. A baby girl with a dimple smiling at me. Right into my soul.

I burst into tears. My hangover forgotten. This time there would be no mourning.

Three days later I was met by the woman that carried my daughter in her womb. She hugged me and thanked me, she told me she chose me because she knew I was this child’s mother and handed me my daughter. I had no fear in that moment. Only joy.

I was looking into the eyes of Kennedy Gray. The one that would own me.

To read more of my story please visit my new home