Are you curious?

I know I said I stay kind of quiet about the adoption...that's true most of the time out in the real world. However, around here we do quite a bit of talking about it. Although I will say it does not consume as much talk/thought as infertility.

OK I guess that's a little lie. When we were in the thick of it (paperwork) it was all we talked about. It was so, so much we had to talk about it every.single.minute to keep sane and get it all done.

You've also heard me talk about our love of Curious George. How we had planned and planned and planned on a Curious George themed nursery from the get-go. How we have collected Curious George items for years and how they are all neatly stored and labeled in giant rubber totes in our garage closets.

We got them out today.

No, not because we have a referral. We're still probably months and months and months away from that.

But because there is nothing for us to do right now. We're just waiting. So I decided it would be fun to take a look at all of our CG stuff.

A brief rewind in the timeline:

Before we were infertile (I mean before we knew we were infertile) we always said we'd "have one adopt one." Life is funny that way, huh?

In 1996 or so someone suggested we do a Curious George themed nursery one day because we both loved him and had fond memories of him from our childhood. Because there is a seven year age difference between the two of us we don't always share the same childhood loves but there we were, bonded over a little curious monkey named George. When we were going through our CG loot today we found a calendar from 1997 which we purchased because the prints were beautiful and we thought we might frame one or two for the walls. 1997 folks. No, we weren't trying then, but we were blissfully naive and innocent enough to think it was fine and dandy to purchase such items so far in advance. Hardy har har har.

In 2005 (May to be exact, so we just hit five years though we're no longer TTC) we started officially trying. I'd already been off the pill for nearly a year and we were avoiding crucial times, what a complete joke. Yes, I know this is a joke many of us have come to realize the universe was playing on us.

2007-2009: a laparascopy, three hysteroscopies, one polypectomy, two uterine biopsies, four IUIs, and four IVFs leads to nothing but heartache and ridiculous amounts of money spent. Have one, adopt one? Seemed to be quite hung up on 'having one.'

2010: Between IVF #4 and #5 we decide to seriously think about adoption. We go so far as to fill out a ton of paperwork and pay ridiculous amounts of money to an agency, considering this our Plan A, and our final FET at CCRM our Plan B.

November 2010: stupid stupid stupid chemical pregnancy. We saw the second line and our worlds turned upside down. Brief though it was, we had tasted success (not really, in the grand scheme of things, but to us, it meant the WORLD and it was the closest moment we'd ever had of thinking we might just have one after all) and it threw us for a major loop. We put the adoption on hold, we freaked out, we cried, we talked, we screamed, we kicked, we screamed some more, we talked, we begged, we felt stupid, we ran around in circles like chickens with our heads cut off.

WHAT TO DO?
Did that second line mean anything? Anything at all?

What is it with lyrics anyways?

I love Regina Spektor. And early on in our IF journey I would listen to this one part of her song "On the Radio" and use it to reinforce my idea to keep trying.

This is how it works

You're young until you're not

You love until you don't

You try until you can't

You laugh until you cry

You cry until you laugh

And everyone must breathe

Until their dying breath


I was going to 'try until I can't.' Thanks, Regina, for giving me permission.

And then, one day, singing those familiar lyrics, eureka.

I had.

I had tried until I couldn't.

This life, it's not a dressed rehearsal.

This is it.

I will say it again: I had tried until I couldn't. I had laughed until I cried, I had cried until I laughed, and I knew that one day I will breathe until my dying breath.

But hopefully not until I've lived a long full life with someone calling me Mom.

Calling me, Mom.