Adoption. It is a beautiful thing. It really is. A selfless choice made by a biological mother to another woman yearning to be a mom.  Normally we hear the adoptive side. Almost everyone knows at least one person's adoption story or someone who was adopted.  But you never hear the biological story.  Something today just tugged on my heart and I wanted to write about my sweet nephew.

I'm the biological aunt so I only have that perspective.  I was there with my sister, Briana, through her pregnancy, I was in the OR when he was born. I got to hold him first and was the one to hand him to his adoptive mom, Natalie. Briana's story is different than mine. Natalie's story is different than mine but we are all on this incredible journey together - in different ways - but together.

Adoption really has a negative stigma towards the biological parent. They are viewed as selfish people who "give" their child up. But I can 100% tell you, that was NOT the case with Calvin.  Briana was not in a good place at all when she became pregnant, it was a scary time for her. Adoption wasn't her first option, but neither was parenting. In God's fate, her plan of choice didn't work out or become something that was able to happen. So as a family, we supported her decision of adoption. I wasn't her voice of reason in choosing a family, I wasn't there for conversations with the social worker. I was there for support, I was there to help get to doctor's appointments. I was there for kicks and movement. I was there to rub her belly and let him know how much he was loved. And at the time, we had Brittani, Briana, and Brystin ... the three Bs, so it was only appropriate this baby boy had a B nickname and for some reason, I just gravitated towards calling him my little biscuit.

Briana was really excited about an adoptive family she had found.  They were a biracial couple that she thought was the best situation because the baby is biracial. Hearing her talk to this family, I saw a positive relief in my sister that she just knew this was the best place for her baby.  They discussed names, birth plans, nurseries, all the fun stuff.  This couple didn't have any children of their own but had always longed for a child. It was a perfect fit. I will never forget the day, 5 weeks before her due date, my sister got the call that the adoptive family had missed a signature on a paper and it wasn't turned in on time for the family to proceed further in the adoption process. Briana was devastated and went back to a "what now." Here we were, 5 weeks from a baby being born, the plan was for him to be adopted so there was nothing ready to bring a baby home. We prayed and gathered around her, remaining positive that a miracle would happen.

And that's when it did. Two weeks later, Briana showed up to my work with great news.  They had been matched with a family in Baltimore. The couple was Natalie and Frank. They didn't have kids, but had tried for over 10 years to no avail. Briana said Natalie's story of infertility was similar to the struggle my husband and I had gone through previously.  Briana's face lit up as she spoke of Natalie and telling me that they were supposed to adopt a baby prior, had the nursery ready only for the mom to back out 2 days after the baby was born. And in their home, that nursery door had remained shut until now. Natalie and Frank. I remember the first time talking to them on the phone, they were so hopeful and optimistic but stayed guarded because of what happened before. I loved talking to them and getting to know them.  They came into town a few days before the c-section. We went out to dinner at the Golden Corral (because super preggo wanted the buffet.) I'm so grateful that I was included on this time and had a chance to get to know them. 

​They had chose the name Calvin because of Cal Ripken Jr and how baseball was a huge part of Baltimore.  So he became my little Calbiscuit. 

Calvin Jude was born the next morning on May 28, 2014. He was perfect. As the nurse was cleaning him up, I could hear him crying and fussing, so i walked over to him and said "what's the matter my little Calbiscuit?" he turned his head towards me and stopped fussing. My heart just sank. I was so in love with this little person.  In that moment, the future and what was going to happen over the next few days - it was irrelevant. Because right here, right now, in this moment. It was my little Calbiscuit and I.  This was my little dude, and no matter the distance, he will always be my little dude.

They had me wheel him out of the OR to start skin to skin with his adoptive mommy. I will never forget coming through the OR doors to see Natalie and Frank standing there. 
"Hi Momma!" Were the first words I said, and Natalie's reaction was something I will never ever ever forget. It still makes me cry. Her joy, the tears. This moment she had longed for for so long. I'm so honored that I could be apart of that. For me in that moment, I couldn't think of anything else except God gave them Calvin. Briana assisted in the miracle. I just stood on the sidelines for support. But ultimately this child was chosen by God for Natalie and Frank, and her first reaction to seeing this child. No words can explain. 

I went home to rest and let Briana rest, and Natalie and Frank bond with their sweet new baby boy. And just letting the four of them have time together.  Later that night when I brought Brystin up to meet his new cousin, I could hear Calvin fussing from the hallway. As soon as I walked in the room, he got quiet and turned towards me. As if he knew me. I didn't see it but Natalie told me it was amazing to see how he reacted towards my voice, and that he knew me. The few short days were a whirlwind, I tried to spend as much time with Calvin, Natalie and Frank as I could. Even though it is an open adoption, you never really know how visits are going to play out or the frequency. And being the aunt, I'm not expecting to be the priority of people who get to see him. I soaked it in, minute by minute, every snuggle I could get with him. I felt a love for this little boy, that I hadn't felt. A lot of people questioned why I spent so much time with him, knowing he was going to be leaving, given the circumstance. I don't regret any second I spent with him. We bonded and looking back, I'm so glad I got to spend as much time him and his family as possible.

Eventually, papers were signed. Briana was released from the hospital, Calvin went back to Maryland with Natalie and Frank. I'm forever grateful for the openness of Natalie's heart, that she has allowed an unlimited amount of communication between us. She would send texts and pictures, communicate about things going on in his life and his milestones.  We've truly blessed to be apart of Calvin's life.

December 2016, I was able to visit with Calvin for the first time since he had been born.  Brystin was over the moon ecstatic to see him.  By then, we had Arzola(who ironically was born one year and one day after Calvin), and I was 9 months pregnant with Milena. Seeing the kids play together and run around Chuck E Cheese, was something I never thought would ever happen. But  we all just clicked like there was never any time or distance. 

Natalie and Frank made the courageous choice to raise Calvin to understand he is adopted, and that adoption is the amazing tie that makes us family instead of an unsettling secret that will come out later. My favorite thing is to see this saying that Natalie and Calvin do.... "I am adopted. I am a friend. I am kind. I am loved" it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. They are raising him to know he was loved all around, and that he came from Briana's belly(and he asks "so i was covered in food?") and that Briana is my sister and that is why I am aunt Brittani. And that Brystin, Arzola and Milena are cousins. Obviously, at 3, almost 4, he doesn't understand fully but I love that as he grows up, he will have ties with his biological family and know that he is so so so so so so loved.

Ultimately, it's not the DNA. It's the love that makes us family. Our unique bond is our normal, I'm excited to navigate this normal and go on this adventure. I feel beyond blessed that Natalie and Frank allow my kids and I to be a part of Calvin's life. What people from the outside don't understand about adoption is that, it's not just giving up a child. It's not a selfish choice. Choosing to place isn't for the weak.  It's realizing that it takes more than love to raise a child, and selflessly giving a loving family a gift. Calvin is a gift. Briana made a selfless choice out of love. Natalie made the selfless choice to love a child not formed in her womb.  I don't think adoption is a choice, I think it's God's plan. And God gave them Calvin. Briana misses Calvin a lot and would have kept him if she was in the right place in life, but she did the right thing. Calvin is in the best home, with the best family possible.  Briana gave him the greatest gift because she loved him. 

Briana and Natalie would have a different side and a different story, but as a biological aunt, that's mine. I love that little boy in a way that can't be measured. I look at Natalie and Frank as my own family that has been around my whole life. (my kids even refer to them as Aunt Natalie and Uncle Frank.) I love through texting and social media, we can be included in his life and milestones. I can't express enough how much I appreciate the openness Natalie and Frank have for Calvin to know his biological roots. Briana made the most selfless choice because she loves him, and I think that is something we ALL need to understand about biological moms.  These choices aren't made because they don't want them or love them... it's because we want them to have more than we can offer, we know they deserve more and because we love them more than they will ever be able to imagine. 

Today is National Woman's Day... and I want to shout out to all the courageous women that are on this crazy life adventure through the gift of adoption - whether on the biological side or adoptive side. May you all know that you are stronger than you can imagine and carry more love than you can measure. <3

"You're about six weeks pregnant" is the diagnosis I was given sitting in a cold ER room on an October afternoon.
"But you're getting divorced" my mom said to me as she sat in the chair next to the hospital bed. Not her words verbatim, but a way to put it nicely. The nurse ignored her. "It looks like your conception date would have been around September 5" - my husband's birthday, and not even a week after we had decided to give our marriage another try.

It was the infertility that had broken our marriage.

When Pj and I had started realizing there was a future for us, we discussed how kids were something we wanted.  Having a son from a previous relationship, I longed for a daughter and the desire to create a life with my husband. We started trying immediately upon getting married. Brystin was 3 when we got married and we wanted our kids close in age. As Pj put it, he wanted to marry me now to date me later - basically saying were going to pop our kids out now and close together so once they are grown we can enjoy our time together.

It was so exciting at first! Being excited, browsing baby shops, thinking of should i start my stock pile on diapers and soap yet?! Three months later, still not pregnant, I decided to start tracking and talking to the doctor about the natural family planning to increase my chances of getting pregnant. This is probably where it all started to go down hill. It became all about the charting and the tracking. Peeing on an ovulation test everyday.  The one day the ovulation test was positive and it was like i had never received good news in my life.  My husband came home from work and there was no "hello" exchanged, he wasn't in the door for 5 seconds and I told him that he had too because the ovulation test was positive. I was so sure that was the month. Only to be disappointed two weeks later.

Everyone kept telling me just to relax and give it time. We had only started trying. By now it was going on six months.  I had joined blogs and community boards, suddenly i didn't feel so alone. But I also couldn't go a day without spending hours on there. Grieving with other moms, sharing in the sadness and let down of the desire to have another baby.... just to see another pregnancy announcement.

Six months into trying, I was 2 weeks late, nauseous and very tired and on edge. I bought a pregnancy test thinking this had to be it, only for the lines not to show up. Weird, right?! How does a pregnancy test malfunction?!  The next day I woke up with really bad cramping and some odd color spotting, so I called my OB and went in. Upon an exam, I was informed that "miscarriages are common and infertility happens" and that "it was very probable I had miscarried." What made this news worse was the fact that my younger sister was pregnant and sitting in the waiting room, annoyed that my appointment was taking so long.  The doctor had a conversation with me saying that after 6 months of not getting pregant while actively trying that it is considered infertility, and having endometriosis and PCOS would only make it harder and possible cause more losses. He put me on progesterone to help regulate my body to increase our chances. But after 6 months and a probable loss, I already felt defeated.

The depression started to be more than I could take.  I was angry. I was annoyed. and I was starting to feel alone. Everyone gave me their "words of comfort":
"at least you already have a son"
"be grateful for what you have"
"some people try for years and years"
"you can always adopt"
"there are plenty of kids in foster care"
"just enjoy this time with your husband"
oh yeah, and I think my favorite line came from a family member who suggested we stop trying because they were having blood work done to test for some illness and if the test was positive, it was a hereditary illness and our unborn child would more than likely need a blood transfusion.

or my other favorite line... when I was trying to tell my sister about the reality of having a child, she said "you're just jealous"

okay! let's stop for a moment.... NONE of those are acceptable things to say to anyone who is trying... whether it has been a day, week, month, year, or decade. And it doesn't matter if it's their first baby or their 5th. The desire to carry a child and a bring a new life into this world is a heart's desire that can't be measured, and if you can't relate to the struggle, kindly keep your comments to yourself because you have no idea.

Nine months had passed since we started trying, and my doctor recommended a laparoscopy, just to go in and clean everything out.  The procedure was quick. I was in and out in an hour. Going home, I had high hopes that now it was going to be much easier.  It was like this new found confidence and I felt refreshed as in the surgery was the answer.  Until a week later, I woke up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain. I couldn't even stand up. I fell on the floor and couldn't move and screamed for my husband. It resulted in calling 911 and being rushed to the ER. I had clotted in my ovaries, and the cysts and inflammation were back and worse than ever. ((Medical lesson: if you aren't familiar, results from the laparoscopy procedure should last for at least 6 months. Once you're cleaned out, it should take a minimum of 6 months of everything to come back if it does... so this, this was not normal.)) I was sent home on more pain killers, and a follow up doctor appointment for the next day.  

My mom took me to my appointment the next day.  I was the only non pregnant lady in the room. Tearfully, I sat and watched couples coo over their ultrasound pictures, or moms to be rubbing their growing bump. My mom could sense my angst sitting there, as soon as she asked if I was okay, in a loud tone, I cried out "why can't they have a separate waiting room for people struggling with infertility. The last thing I want to do is sit here with a bunch of preggos. It's not fair." I placed my head in my hands and sobbed, and secretly judged everyone in that room.   Embarrassed my mom went up to the receptionist and asked how soon it was until I got to go back because I was having a break down. Once the doctor took me back, she talked to me about anti-depressants and referred me to Reproductive Gynecology.  With my cysts and extra tissue coming back so fast, it was going to be harder than expected for me to get pregnant.

I don't want to get into my experience with them because it wasn't a good one.  I felt they were rude and not clear of their processes. Apparently there is a wrong way to have sex when you are trying to get pregnant? Who knew?! And apparently you also have to pattern your days for sperm reproduction? News to me too. Weird. The only positive news we got from them was that the problem wasn't my husband, it was me. My body, my uterus, my crazy cyst-infested ovaries, my endometriosis. I felt like a failure. And more confused than ever. 
My PCOS and cysts were discovered when I was 15.
Diagnosed with endometriosis at 19, and was told I would never be able to carry a baby full term, and that I had a very high chance of a hysterectomy by the age of 22. But at 21, I got pregnant and carried a high risk pregnancy to term.
I was an unmarried college student, still living at home with no real goal in life.  How could I get pregnant then? I had done everything right this time - finished college, had a full time job, got married, lived on my own... why can't I get pregnant now?!

Almost a year into trying, I was denying baby shower invites, deleting pregnant friends off facebook and going off on any pregnant person that complained.  I'm sorry, I just couldn't share in the happiness. People were more insensitive than ever to our struggle. As I became open about our struggle, my husband kept more to himself.  We began fighting more and if an ovulation time came and he wasn't in the mood, there was a wrath in our house that couldn't be contained.  I became all consumed in this depression and negativity. As my sisters due date approached, I wanted nothing to do with her. I couldn't even stomach to talk to her. My mom and grandma had multiple conversations with me about how hard this was for them.. to try to be happy for my sister and be supportive and sensitive to me.   I couldn't understand how my sister who was homeless, jobless, a high school drop out pregnant with her best friend's boyfriend's baby could be so blessed, but my husband and I had been struggling for a year.  

Thirteen months into trying, I woke up one morning with really, really painful cramping and when I went to the bathroom, there were clumps. This wasn't normal so I called the doctor. They had me come in right away. A negative pregnancy test, a little higher than average hormone levels.  The doctor gave me an exam and got a concern look on his face. He sent me immediately back from an ultrasound. The worst was confirmed, we had suffered a loss. I sobbed and couldn't understand. A year in and 2 losses. I just didn't get it. Pj was very stoic about everything, at this point, he just wanted his normal wife back. He had lost his wife to this never ending obsession of trying to get pregnant. I had lost myself. I didn't know how to come back from this depression. I just wanted to start our own biological family with my husband.

Our happy home was now a personal hell. I can't explain every emotion that I felt - and i'm sure the emotional roller coaster was just amped up even more by all the different hormones they had me on. By this time, there was blood work, shots, constant doctor appointments. Blood work after blood work, shot after shot, test after test, more medicine. In the midst of my depression, remember that family member that encouraged us to stop trying?! She was now pregnant. And super insensitive to what I was going through.  She also couldn't understand why we couldn't be happy for her. The pain in my heart was real. And to be honest, I felt betrayed. To encourage us to stop because of an illness she was being tested for, and then she got pregnant?! I couldn't wrap my head around it. And it created a house divided. With that pregnancy announcement and my sister's due date quickly approaching, I was just overwhelmed.  I felt this grief and hatred. How could the two people that were insensitive to me the most be the ones to get the blessing I was praying for?! 
(Side note: my nephew was born a week later and I was absolutely in love with him, and still am!)

To say, I lost my mind that night would be an understatement. I had completely lost it. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think. My emotions raged and got the best of me.  Even my support person couldn't calm me down. I was over it. And after that breakdown, my husband was over it too. 

My husband started working later, talking to me less, not paying attention to me. The marriage was over. The love was gone. Something that was supposed to bring us together had ripped us apart. We started talking about divorce and separating.  Everything was just getting to be too much. We split for a week to give each other space, he went to Cleveland, I went to Florida. Even though we had decided to stay together, things weren't the same. Our relationship wasn't the same. We weren't close.

Fifteen months into trying, the doctor gave us rounds of clomid. The clomid made me so sick and was so painful. But a few weeks and a negative test later, my husband left.  
"You're just a horrible, miserable person. And you're so ugly to me" those words will haunt me for the rest of my life. But in that moment, I was. I really was.  That was everything the past 16 months had turned me into. I was bitter, I was angry, I wasn't myself. I had lost myself and my marriage to a hope that turned into an obsession. And it was out of control, I was out of control. I couldn't fathom how it all had gone downhill or where it started to go wrong and if I could have changed it, I would have.  
(Even looking back now, I'm so embarrassed and I can't apologize enough to those around me that I hurt.)

When Pj moved out, it was the eye opener that I needed to get myself together.  I started counseling and instead of focusing on getting pregnant, it was focusing on managing my cysts and endometriosis.  A few other health issues were discovered too, biopsies and blood work, surgery and treatment. Though Pj and I didn't live together, we weren't completely apart. We still spent weekends, holidays, and random times together. We were attempting to start over.  We weren't actively trying anymore but we weren't preventing it either.  Each month we would have a talk about if I were to end up pregnant. The more that I started to get better and feel better, the less heartbreaking it was each month when the test was negative and that monthly friend showed up. 

27 months into trying and still nothing, I filed for divorce. He didn't want to move back home, the infertility had just destroyed us.  There was nothing left. Maybe living separate we both held on to the hope that something would happen. A baby, a reconciliation. But it was done, it was over. Obviously the infertility rattled a foundation that wasn't strong enough to survive the toughest storms.  I was devastated and felt like I had wasted the past few years of my life.  And accepting the fact that life was just going to be Brystin and I was a reality I needed to face. The battle was over, and we lost. 

When we had our first divorce hearing, it was rough. And the first time I had seen him in months. But there was something in that moment of seeing each other that clicked. Did we really want to do this?! We started talking after the hearing, and decided to take it slow. I didn't want to try for a baby anymore, I just wanted to focus on myself, repairing my marriage and broken relationships, and getting ready for my little boy to start kindergarten. I had enrolled back in school, I wanted to help people. I don't want people to go down the same path I did and self destruct and lose everything. After a month of talking, and apologizing we had our first face to face conversation and decided we will give it one last and final try. This was it. If we couldn't make it work then it was time to pull the plug. We started looking at small condos in downtown Cleveland or moving away to start over. It was going to just be the three of us, and for once in the past 3 years, I was okay with it. I felt a calm, one step at a time, and maybe a baby wasn't in God's plan for us. A few days later, we celebrated Pj's birthday and it was great to finally feel like a couple again. It was the first time we had been back out with our other "couple" friends, we did things we use to do and we were laughing and smiling again. 

We went away for my birthday, which ironically was a week before our final divorce hearing. We were still treading the water of what was the best decision for us. While we were away, I got sick. I couldn't breathe, I had a lot of pain and pressure on my chest. I was really weak and spent a lot of time sleeping. I remember sitting at breakfast and telling him something was wrong and didn't feel right. Was it my vertigo? Was it cancer? Was my PTSD causing a massive panic attack with our pending court date that would decide our future?! He rolled his eyes not taking how I was feeling seriously. When I got back home, I decided it was best to call the doctor as I struggled to breath. They sent me to the ER and my mom met me there. 
"Is there a chance you are pregnant?" the usual question that every female that has her cycle gets
"No. I don't think so"
"Okay, were going to run some tests and bloodwork and see what's going on" the doctor said and walked out. The nurses came in, did their check and bloodwork. Awhile later, the nurse came back in "you're about 6 weeks pregnant"
My mom and I were shocked. We had tried for so long and stopped, and now we got the news that I would have given anything to hear. I was shocked, when I told Pj, he was shocked. We went through a rough, high risk, and monitored pregnancy... and welcomed our much prayed and hoped for daughter on May 29, 2015.

She was born 3 years and 2 months after we had started trying. 

and surprise! 10 months later, we were pregnant again and welcomed our second daughter January 6, 2017.

Are we done?! I don't think my body can handle another pregnancy. We are happy with our family the way it is. If we get blessed with another baby down the road, then it's a blessing. But if this is God's plan to stay the 5 of us, then I am completely okay with it. We will never go down the path of trying for a baby again, it's just too much and we've been blessed beyond measure. Our girls were definitely worth the wait and the struggle.... the struggle that was all too real....

Those words. "You're the most normal person I know," were words said to be by a college friend after we had an in class activity that made me sweat. It wasn't a speech or a test. The teacher wanted us to go around the room and talk about our immediate family (mother, father, siblings, etc.) As much as I love my family, this is one thing I don't like to talk about.  The classmates before me all had your normal nuclear family "my parents are still married and we have a dog," "my parents are still married and I have an older brother." I felt myself turning red and sweating so bad.  I don't think I had ever wanted to duck out and skip class. Finally it was my turn.  

I'm an only child between my two parents.  However, I'm the second of four kids and none of us have the same two parents.  I'm my dad's youngest and my mom's oldest.  *confused looks from everyone* My dad had dated a girl in high school and in their early adult years, they had my older sister.  My dad had met my mom - they got married, had me, got divorced. My mom remarried, had my sister, they divorced.  My mom fell in love again years later, got engaged, they had my brother, broke up.  My dad eventually remarried too but got divorced again.  I lived with my mom until I was 12, and then when I was 12 my dad got custody of me.  So here I am, a mother, not married to my son's father and my husband and I have a daughter. Oh yeah, and no pets. *silence*

The teacher praised me for sharing, and told me not to apologize because it's important to realize everyone has a different family dynamic and story.  That's when my college friend seated next to me leaned over and whispered.... "I'm so shocked to hear that's your family.... you're, like, the most normal person I know.  You have yourself very put together."

So why am I telling you this story? I think it's important to start off my blog with understanding why I wanted to start a blog.  In that moment in class, I felt alone. I felt embarrassed and ashamed. For once, I wish I could have the picture perfect family.  No one else in the class had anything near in comparison. But I know that I am not the only one in the world with a crazy family, and my family has given me a lot of experiences and learning moments that I want to use to help.  

I've been through a lot of things in life, and though not everything is going to be detailed in this first blog, you'll hear and learn my story as it goes along, and hopefully I can help you or someone you know.  Maybe give you a different perspective on things.  I've been to rehab, I'm a survivor of abuse(sexual, domestic, emotional); I've conquered self-harm, cancer and anorexia, and I can't wait to help the next person who is battling these demons.  Many of my years were spent being ruined by rumors, and judged.  So now this is my turn to tell my story.

My husband hates that I share so much, but I feel it's my calling.  I'm not a victim, I'm a survivor.  I'm human, I make mistakes.  One night sitting in church, the pastor had a sermon on these life hardships and how we need to not be afraid or embarrassed, but take them and use them as learning experiences to help the next person.  We may feel alone, but we are never alone. And we're all just doing our best to get through this crazy thing called life, but wouldn't it be better if we had someone to help us through the hard times?! Someone that has been there and understands.  When he spoke that night, I cried and realized I was ready to give my life to Christ. 

I spoke at few church activities, ministries, my story got sent to "To Write Love On Her Arms," but it wasn't until lately, sitting in church again when the pastor called out to use our experiences to be mentors, and always continued to be mentored too.  While I pursue my degree to become a Mentor, I'm hoping my blog will give me a platform to share my story, help others and become a mentor.

I'm excited to share my journey with you! As well as other thoughts, opinions, insight or just random things I feel like talking about. But that's all for now as I have a little one who wants more Kool-Aid and a big kid who "needs" a popsicle.
Until next time...

xoxo B