During my first Thanksgiving with Oliver, people kept saying how lucky he was to have us. I remember correcting them and reminding them that we are the lucky ones. My path to motherhood was not easy, and because of that, I carry a sense of responsibility that feels a little different from what biological mothers may experience. I feel a deep commitment not only to Oliver because he is my son, but also to his birthparents for choosing us. They trusted us to love him, guide him, and show up for him every minute of every day. Being trusted in such a profound way is humbling. While motherhood is certainly not without its challenges, I know I will miss every aspect that feels exhausting now.

In the spirit of openness, we’ve always been completely open with Oliver about his adoption. Since he was a little child, we’ve talked about his birthparents and how they chose us. How I didn’t carry him in my tummy but she did so she could keep him safe until he was ready for us.

He can look at their picture in his baby book whenever he wants, and sometimes I catch him flipping through it because he says he likes looking at all the photos. He brings them up from time to time, often in unexpected moments, and we always embrace those conversations. We encourage him to talk about whatever he is thinking or feeling. He is proud to be adopted, and I believe some of that stems from our openness and from having an adoption that is not closed, so we are able to share real information with him. I hope he always feels proud of his story, but I also understand how complex adoption can be. There will likely come a day when he asks harder and more pointed questions, and I am ready to embrace those as well. I want him to know he can always talk about his feelings, even the complicated ones.

I certainly don’t have all of the answers and I’m learning just as much from him as I hope he learns from me. Seeing the world through his eyes and experiencing this journey together is more than I ever could have hoped for.

Today and every day, I am deeply grateful for Oliver and his birthparents for choosing us to parent this extraordinary boy.

Honestly,

Theresa

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For years, I was proud to tell people we were middle school sweethearts — a fact that became incredibly painful when everything started to fall apart.

I’ve mentioned before that our infertility journey wasn’t just physically and emotionally exhausting for me — it took an unbelievable toll on our marriage. Instead of leaning on each other, we hurt each other. We said things that couldn’t be unsaid — words that would alter the course of our relationship. And beyond the words, our actions showed that we were living as friends, not as husband and wife.

During that time, I felt like I couldn’t talk to anyone. I couldn’t lean on friends or family to discuss infertility because no one truly understood, but even more, how could I possibly share the cracks forming in my marriage? I felt like I was failing. I was embarrassed and ashamed. How could I explain to people who had known us as a couple for more than a decade that during a time when we should have been leaning on each other to navigate the loss and grief, I instead felt deeply alone and questioning whether I was good enough?

When we stopped fertility treatments and decided to move forward with adoption, things seemed better. He traveled a lot for work, but we had always shared the same interests — weekends with friends, movies, concerts, traveling. We had been friends since we were 12, and that friendship helped us keep going. But the things we had said before lingered, ready to surface the moment we disagreed. Those old words and wounds became a weapon that was easily wielded, always waiting, even when the argument had nothing to do with becoming parents.

The truth is, after everything we went through, I broke. But when the treatments stopped, I began to heal — slowly, on my own, in a way that made sense for me. We tried to heal together, but sometimes it was easier not to talk about it at all. So I moved forward, and in doing so, I became stronger and more resilient than I ever imagined possible.

During that time, I read a quote that still resonates deeply with me:

It was true. We stopped really seeing each other. We stopped knowing each other. But we continued on — two friends who happened to be married.

And then Oliver was born. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was being the best mother I could be to this perfect little human. To do that, I had to become the best version of myself. That meant not ignoring the hard things, even when it would’ve been easier to stay quiet. I wanted to talk about all of it, lay our cards out on the table because if I couldn’t be true to myself, how the hell was I going to raise my son in an authentic and honest way? I had someone else counting on me now, and I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t show him that I mattered. That my happiness was important too.

So, when Oliver was just a few months old, I moved out of the house we had built three years earlier hoping to hold a growing family. People often ask why I was the one to move out. The easy answer is that it was a four-bedroom house with an office and an unfinished basement for more bedrooms that I knew I’d never be able to fill. And while that’s true, the deeper truth is that instead of it still being the place where I could see warmth and love, it was overwhelmed by my darkest moments and deepest pain.

And let me be clear, I’m not saying to just throw in the towel when things get tough. I fought for my marriage. We went to counseling and tried to talk through things over and over again, but we didn’t see things the same way. We had both put back our broken pieces differently, and that’s okay. We’re human.

While I had every intention of staying married and growing old with the boy I fell in love with in middle school, life is complicated. And we owe it to ourselves to have enough love for one another and ourselves to want better for each other and our son.

It was, without question, one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through. He was my best friend for more than half of my life. But now, on the other side of it, I know it was the right decision for me, for him, and for our son.

He is a great person and an absolutely, insanely wonderful dad. I’m in a place where I can truly see past so much of the pain, and we can just be happy for each other. Despite all of it, we always put Oliver first, and that remains. Everything we do, every decision we make, is to ensure Oliver knows and sees love and happiness.

So, if you’re going through it right now – know that it can and does get better.

Honestly,

Theresa

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If you’re in the waiting period, know this: those months will feel long, but they are worth it. We used the time to bond, document the little moments and trusted the process.

In some cases, the finalization can happen without you being present in person, but we knew we wanted to fly back to Texas and be in the courtroom when they told us Oliver was legally ours forever.

So, in December 2018, we flew back to Texas for a quick trip, met with the attorney from our adoption agency to sign all the finalization paperwork, and then went before the judge to make it official!

We had a wonderful photographer with us who captured all the emotional moments, and on December 10, 2018, we officially became Oliver’s parents for the rest of our lives. It was such a special day, and Oliver looked so dapper in his suit, rocking his Superman onesie underneath because Superman was adopted too—and Oliver is without question our real-life Superman. We even have Superman tattoos because the symbol means so much to us.

The judged asked us several questions including if we understood all of our responsibilities for being Oliver’s parents and that the adoption was permanent. While it was formal, it was also incredibly celebratory. There were even other families in the courtroom that day for a variety of reasons, but the overwhelming love we felt—and the cheers that erupted from complete strangers when the judge said it was official—was absolutely unforgettable.

Now, every year on December 10, we celebrate Oliver/ Obie Day. His nickname is Obie because of his initials (O.B.), and it’s a day that not only means so much to us, but it has become one of Oliver’s favorite days too. Probably because he usually gets to skip school, and we do whatever he wants to celebrate!

One amazing part of the finalization process that I didn’t realize at first was that Oliver’s original birth certificate, which listed his birth parents, becomes invalid and is replaced by a new birth certificate listing me and his dad as his parents. We weren’t expecting that, so when the updated birth certificate arrived in the mail a few months later, it was another incredibly special and emotional moment in our journey.

There’s no question that while the path to finding Oliver was filled with heartbreak, every stumble was worth it because it led me to him. All I know is that I am forever grateful he chose me—and I will always choose him.

I’m curious, do you celebrate adoption anniversaries in your family? I’d love to hear about your family traditions in the comments.

As always, thanks for following along.

Honestly,

Theresa

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The ICPC regulates the placement of children across state lines for foster care, adoption, or residential treatment.

It ensures that:

• The placement is safe and suitable.

• Both states (sending and receiving) approve the placement before it happens.

• Legal and financial responsibility for the child is clearly assigned.

Without ICPC, a child could be moved without proper checks, leaving them vulnerable and creating legal issues including who is responsible for care, support, or emergencies. There are several documents and steps that need to take place. A Texas to Colorado adoption included the following:

1. Sending State (Texas) Responsibilities

• Texas is considered the sending state.

• Texas must prepare and submit the ICPC packet to Colorado, which includes:

  • Home study and approval for the adoptive family (if done in Colorado).

  • Child’s medical, social, and legal information.

  • Financial plan (who covers care and expenses until finalization).

• Texas cannot release the child to Colorado until Colorado approves the placement in writing.

2. Receiving State (Colorado) Responsibilities

• Colorado reviews the packet to ensure:

  • Family meets Colorado adoption standards.

  • Placement is in the child’s best interest.

• Colorado approves or denies the placement.

• Once approved, Colorado assumes supervisory responsibility until finalization including post-placement supervision.

This process can take anywhere from 1-2 weeks, so we knew we would not be able to make arrangements to go home until we were given the green light from our adoption specialist.

So, for the next several days, we got cozy in our hotel room. We took Oliver to his first checkup, which was provided by a state resource since we weren’t yet home to see our own pediatrician, went out for a few meals and spent hours upon hours snuggling. We were very fortunate that things were moving quickly for us and within five days we were told things should be ready soon so we could start to make our travel arrangements.

We debated about whether or not we should rent a car to drive home or hop on a flight. Since Oliver would be less than two weeks old, if we were to fly, he would need written approval from a doctor saying it was ok to do so. In the end, we got the approval from the doctor and decided to fly since it would get us home faster and I’d keep Oliver wrapped against me for the entirety of the flight.

On our last day in Texas, we signed the remaining ICPC paperwork and packed our bags to head home with our son. The next day, with a 9-day old Oliver, we took our first flight. He was an absolute champ and slept the entire flight snuggled against my chest.

Finally Home

As part of the post-placement supervision process, our Colorado social worker was required to visit us once within 30 days of Oliver’s birth, and then once a month in our home for the next three months. These visits were essential for preparing the post-placement supervisory report—a key document needed before the adoption could be finalized. Under Texas law, that couldn’t happen until Oliver was at least six months old.

I was lucky to have a fully paid maternity leave, which I stretched out to 16 weeks. Three months fully at home and then the last month I went in part-time. This was so incredibly special to me because I got to spend so much one-on-one time with Oliver.

One thing that I really leaned into was baby wearing. Since I didn’t get to carry Oliver in my womb, having him wrapped to me all the time was an absolute must. People thought I was crazy, but I also never used a stroller until he was well past the age of one, and even then, I still mostly preferred to use the baby carrier – something I did regularly until he was three. I personally can’t stand strollers, and it was always easier to get where we needed to get with him just wrapped to me.

We also co-slept until he could transition to a crib. I know not everyone agrees with this and I completely respect each person’s individual comfort level with this, but we used a specialized co-sleeper, and never worried that he wasn’t safe. Because we didn’t have a crib when he was first born and we were living in the hotel, the co-sleeper was a great choice for us and continued to be what we used when we traveled around because it fit easily into a suitcase and didn’t make us so dependent on a crib or pack n’ play.

Knowing that I would eventually be returning to work, we had to start figuring out what we were going to do for childcare. Most of the highly sought after infant daycare options have waiting lists months to years in advance. Since we didn’t know when we would need one, we never got on a list. So instead, we started interviewing nannies. After several interviews we found one that just clicked. Entrusting your child’s care to anyone is terrifying, but we were so incredibly lucky to have found someone who loved and doted on Oliver while we were unable to be with him.

I realize that having a nanny isn’t the most affordable option, which makes me incredibly grateful that we were able to provide this for Oliver. Knowing that during his first year, every time he cried or needed something, he’d receive immediate care—not wait in line with nine other babies—was such a relief. Our plan was to keep the nanny until Oliver turned one, then transition him to daycare once he was eating, walking, and ready to play alongside other kids.

When I returned to work full-time, it was wonderful to be able to text our nanny anytime to check in and receive frequent updates and photos throughout the day. It really helped ease the guilt of being away from Oliver. As I’ve shared previously, I always wanted to be a mother, but my career is also incredibly important to me. Financially, having a stay-at-home parent is not always feasible for people, but I would have been able to do so. And because of this, on many occasions, I had different people try to make me feel bad for not choosing to stay home when I could have. It was difficult not to get frustrated and continue to explain that my job was important to me, and that I valued being seen as more than just a mother.

While being Oliver’s mother is my greatest role, it is not the only thing that I am. It is also vitally important to me that he see women—and his mom—can choose more than just one path. My mother was a stay-at-home mom for 20 years, and I so admire her for that. But that was a choice. A choice she made and wanted for herself. Just as continuing to pursue my own career and independent success is a choice I made for myself.

Tell me, if money wasn’t a barrier, if given the choice, would you stay home or continue to work?

Honestly,

Theresa

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Woah, this was really happening.

We walked over with her to get checked in and made sure to ask her if she was comfortable with us hanging out. During the time leading up to the match, the adoption specialist was very clear that many times prospective adoptive parents might be allowed to stay in the waiting room, or they may not be called until after the baby is born – everything is completely up to the birth mom and what she is comfortable with – as it should be.

S said she was totally fine with us staying and we spent the next several hours getting to know her and her us. Her boyfriend and birth father was at work and unable to get away immediately, so she shared details about him as well. To be honest, I would have thought it would possibly be a somewhat uncomfortable interaction, but it was the exact opposite. We hung out as she was induced and talked to her in her room as if we had known her for years. As the day went on, the doctors and nurses all knew that we were in a unique situation and embraced all of us with such care and kindness every minute.

One thing we had told our adoption specialist during our waiting period was that we didn’t necessarily want to find out the sex of the baby because we wanted it to be a surprise if at all possible. They had shared this with the birth parents, and we were astounded that S made sure that none of the hospital staff told us the sex whenever they came into the room to examine her. To see her request something on our behalf was overwhelming.

Towards the late afternoon, the doctor told us that it would likely still be several hours before anything happened, so we asked S if it was ok for us to leave for a bit to grab some things from our hotel since we had left in such a hurry that morning. We asked if when we returned if she was comfortable with us staying in the waiting room until the baby was born and she told us, “Absolutely.”

We hurried back to our hotel, grabbed a bite to eat, and then swung by the store to get a handful of onesies and items we would need immediately. We didn’t know if the baby would come in a few hours or days but wanted to be prepared.

When we made it back to the hospital, we set ourselves up in the waiting room and let the nursing staff know to tell S that we had returned and were available should she need anything. While we were away her boyfriend had arrived and was spending time with her in the room. I’ll refer to him as “C” moving forward. We of course hoped we’d get a chance to meet him as well, but fully expected that we would be out in the waiting room for hours and made ourselves comfortable. Throughout the day our adoption specialist kept checking in with us and separately with S and C to make sure everyone had the support they needed.

After a little while, a nurse came over to us and said that we were invited back to go hang out with S and C as she had just had her epidural and was relaxing. We entered the room once again not knowing what to expect once we got to meet C, and again, we were amazed at how easy it was to chat with him and get to know him more.

During our adoption classes, we learned that often birth parents have a name that they give the child, and while you are in no way obligated to keep that name, many adoptive parents will take that name as the child’s middle name as a way to honor the birth parents. So, while we were back in the room all spending time together, we asked S and C if they had any names picked out for the baby because we would want to do exactly that. Their response was swift and definite, “this is your baby, you get to name them.”

Silence. Tears forming in our eyes. Wow, we were blown away once again by them putting our wants before their own.

At this point it was getting to be late evening, and you’d think perhaps folks would need a break from one another, but they continued to have us stay in the room and spend time with them.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, C said to us, “we talked about it, and if you both want to, you can stay in the room for the birth.”  

We were floored. Tearfully and without hesitation we said we would be honored to remain in the room as long as S felt comfortable and that they could kick us out at any time. We wanted to ensure that they continued to know we were taking their lead.

Then around 9:30 p.m., it was go time. Before the baby came both the adoption specialist and nurse spoke with S about her and C’s wishes once the baby was born. Some birth parents want to hold the baby and spend time with them – again, completely up to them and what they prefer. Apparently, S had told them that she was most comfortable with delivering and then having the baby go directly to us. Because of this, the nurse told us where we could stand and that once the baby was born, we would follow her out of the room to another area where the baby would be measured and checked.

After a very quick (by birthing standards) actual pushing time, on Monday, June 4, 2018, at 10:12 p.m., our son Oliver Benjamin was born.

S was amazing. She was strong and brave and delivered like an absolute badass. We were crying and overcome by so much emotion that when the nurse asked us to follow her, it was hard to want to leave S behind. I remember vividly walking out of the room, locking eyes with her, and just saying “thank you.”

The next 30 minutes went by in a flurry, but after measuring and doing initial vitals they put us in a back triage space that was empty while they went through paperwork and who knows what else. They let us give Oliver his first bath and then left us for probably about an hour or so, just the three of us, in this back room soaking it all in.

While we were in that back room after 11 p.m. or so, we got a text from C. We had given both C and S our numbers that day in case they needed anything during that time. This is not something that is required, but it felt natural and was something we were comfortable doing.

I saw the name come through and I’ll be honest, I had an initial moment of panic. Did they maybe decide they didn’t want to go through with the adoption? Was something wrong with S?

What we got instead was C asking us if we wanted any food because he was heading out to grab something for S. We couldn’t believe it. Here we were holding Oliver – the greatest gift of our lives – thanks to their selflessness, and they were still looking out for us. It was truly humbling.

To say that our interaction with Oliver’s birthparents was positive or good would not even come close to doing it justice. They are two of the most remarkable people we have ever met, and we are eternally grateful that they chose us to parent this beautiful boy.

As the time neared midnight, we thought we were likely going to have to leave Oliver at the nursery and head back to our hotel since I wasn’t a patient there. But to our surprise, the incredible staff at UTMB Health in League City, pulled together to turn an ultrasound room into a makeshift patient room with two beds so that we could stay overnight and have Oliver with us the entire time.

I think it was probably around 1 a.m. as I was holding a sleeping Oliver that I noticed it. Suddenly, this weight that I had been carrying for the past four years was no longer there. All of the pain and anger for not being able to get pregnant just disappeared. It was like every minute of that gut-wrenching time was replaced by this moment where I was looking down and staring at my sleeping baby boy, knowing that it might not have been what I planned or expected, but I was finally a mom.

We remained in the hospital for a few days while paperwork was sorted, and the process of S and C relinquishing their parental rights began. Every state has different requirements, but in Texas, 48 hours must pass before birthparents can sign an affidavit for voluntary relinquishment. So, during that time we all remained in the hospital. The afternoon after Oliver’s birth, we asked if S wanted a visitor since C had to return to work and asked if she wanted us to bring the baby along or keep him with a nurse. She told us to bring him and even though we asked her if she wanted to hold him, she declined. I cannot even begin to imagine understanding the range of emotions she must have been feeling, but every step of the way, we wanted to assure her that whatever she was thinking, deciding or feeling, was absolutely ok.

The day we were finally discharged was both exciting and emotionally devastating. We actually ended up driving S home before we returned to our hotel, and as I watched her walk away, I wondered if we’d ever see her again. This incredible woman who just made me a mother and there is no possible way I could ever thank her enough. This quote that I read leading up to that day summarizes that moment perfectly, “The day you’re handed another mother’s child is the day your heart breaks and heals at the exact same time.”

Our entire experience surrounding Oliver’s birth still leaves me in awe even seven years later. I know that not everyone may have an experience like we did, but if there is one thing I hope people reading this take away beyond the beauty, magic and emotion of it all, is that you should abandon any expectations you might have. It’s when you do that that the unexpected really is possible.

Honestly,
Theresa

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Knowing this, we had both told our bosses that an opportunity might come and that we would let them know when that was the case. In the meantime, we continued to look ahead to summer. We decided to go away for a quick Memorial Day weekend trip with some friends and family, so off we went to Las Vegas for some fun in the sun! Little did we know, that would be the last vacation we took before becoming parents.

The Wednesday after Memorial Day we both went off to work like normal. Then shortly before lunch, my phone was ringing, and it was from American Adoptions. I immediately knew this was different because all of the updates each month came in the form of email, so I quickly stepped outside of my office building to answer the call. It was our adoption specialist asking if she could speak to both me and my husband. Unfortunately, he was completely heads down at work and missed all of our attempts to call, so she proceeded with sharing with me that we had been matched for an adoption opportunity!

It was a flurry of information that I was writing down – and then came the kicker – the birth mom was due that Saturday! The birth parents were in Texas, and she was due in three days. Holy shit. So, I took down all of the information and kept texting and calling my husband until we were able to connect. Our adoption specialist told us they would be sending us a slew of information and if we wanted to accept the adoption opportunity, we would have to get everything done in the next 48 hours.

When I got home from work that evening, we spent hours talking—reviewing every detail, trying to make sense of the whirlwind we’d been thrown into. It was overwhelming. We had always assumed there would be more time to think things through when an opportunity came our way, so facing a life-changing decision with a deadline of the next morning felt incredibly daunting.

By Thursday morning, we knew—despite how fast everything was moving—that we needed to take the leap. So off to work we went, sharing the news with our teams and diving headfirst into preparation. From gathering the required paperwork, to scheduling an early morning meeting with a notary (who, luckily, was also a coworker and friend), to booking last-minute flights—everything was a blur.

In less than 48 hours, I pulled together a full maternity leave plan, operating on the belief that I’d be coming home with a baby in a matter of weeks and wouldn’t be returning to work right away. As the director of my team, there was a lot to manage in a short time. I was incredibly grateful to my colleagues, who rallied with me to hand off projects and shift responsibilities. Given the tight timeline, there were still a few things I committed to seeing through while on leave, but otherwise, I made sure everything was tied up by Friday night.

Birth mom was due Saturday, but we were told it was her first pregnancy and knowing that often first pregnancies go past their due date, we decided to book our flight for Sunday so that we could handle a few last minute things on Saturday. We were also told that birth mom had an appointment on Monday, so we knew we wanted to at least get to town before that appointment.

As I mentioned in my last post, we never bought or prepared anything for a baby, so Saturday, we decided to go buy a handful of things including a baby wrap and co-sleeper that we could fit in our suitcases and then ordered a car seat that we had shipped to Texas for pickup once we arrived. Then we went to lunch, packed our bags and anxiously awaited our flight the next morning. It was a little surreal. We had no idea what the next few days, let alone weeks would look like or how long we would be gone.

We flew into Houston on that Sunday, picked up the car seat and then went to the hotel. Since we knew we’d be there for at least a few weeks, we were able to get a suite with a kitchen so we could make ourselves at home as much as possible. Then, not really knowing what to do with ourselves, we went shopping at HEB (IYKYK) to have some things at our hotel and then decided to head to a movie. It wasn’t like we were there on vacation, so we didn’t really have things planned out. We knew about the appointment the next morning, so we anticipated we would hear more from our adoption specialist after the appointment – until then, we anxiously waited.

Monday morning, we were sleeping in when my husband frantically woke me and told me to get ready. He said that our adoption specialist had just called and said she had spoken to the birth mom and birth mom asked if we wanted to meet her at her doctor’s appointment that was in just a little while. ABSOLUTELY. We rushed to get dressed and raced to the doctor’s office that was connected to the hospital. We had no idea what to expect as we parked the car and started walking toward the front doors. All we had was a name. When we walked through the doors, there she was, the woman who would change my life forever.

No book, article, or adoption class could have prepared us for what came next. But that day—every single moment of it—was filled with love, raw emotion, and the kind of human connection that leaves a permanent mark on your soul. It’s a day I’ll never forget, and it deserves its own post. That’s what I’ll be writing next, and I hope you’ll stick around to read it.

Honestly,

Theresa

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It goes into different adoption scenarios, openness levels and medical backgrounds. Here are some of the key sections:

1. Child Preferences

   • Race/ethnicity of the child

   • Gender preference (if any)

   • Age range (typically infants for domestic adoption)

   • Special needs or medical conditions the family is open to

2. Openness to Contact

   • Preferences for open, semi-open, or closed adoption

   • Willingness to exchange letters, photos, phone calls, or have in-person visits

   • Comfort level with ongoing relationships with the birth family

3. Birth Parent History

   • Comfort with birth parent medical or mental health history

   • Substance use during pregnancy (alcohol, tobacco, drugs)

   • Criminal background

4. Adoption Situations

   • Preferences around last-minute adoptions or hospital calls

   • Willingness to adopt a baby exposed to prenatal substance use

   • Openness to legal risks (e.g., birth father rights not yet terminated)

5. Family Background

   • Lifestyle, values, and cultural background

   • Reasons for adopting

   • Parenting philosophy and experience

The APQ is critical for creating a matching profile to help identify appropriate adoption opportunities and only share your profile with birth parents whose profile aligns. It also allows prospective adoptive parents to reflect on their boundaries and prepare emotionally and practically for their future child.

When you’re not personally in control of pre-natal care or other components of a pregnancy, it’s really important to understand your comfort level in regard to different situations. For us, we were open to any gender and race, we were less open to situations involving substance abuse and legal risks. With the APQ complete and all other components solidified, our profile went live.

At that point, our adoption specialist was very clear about what level of communication we could expect from them. They would reach out if there was an adoption opportunity of course, otherwise we’d hear from them at the end of the month with an overview of how many times our profile was shared, as well as any feedback. This was helpful because it can be easy to want to check in every few days to see if there has been any information. After the first few months our adoption specialist would let us know that our profile was being shared with half a dozen or so birth parents, but not much else. After I think three or four months, she asked us if we would possibly be open to amending our APQ a bit. We agreed, but still within a space where we felt comfortable, and then suddenly, we were starting to be shown to 10-15 or so birth parents per month. Still, most months came and went with no real update.

The waiting was torture. As more months went by, people often asked me if I was preparing for the baby in any way like buying things and starting the nursery – something that I was adamant about not doing. For some people that brings a sense of comfort, knowing that they are preparing for a future child, but for me, I knew that if I decorated a room that I had to walk past every day not knowing when it would be filled with the giggles and coos of a baby, was only going to fuel the growing ache in my chest. So instead, we continued to focus on other things and in the spring, we started making travel plans for later that summer. We planned a long European adventure, but made sure we could cancel if we needed to, something our adoption specialist said was always a good idea because you just never know when a match might happen. And lucky for us, that cancellation policy came in handy.

I can’t wait to share more about the day we did get our call for a match, but in the meantime, how are these posts going? Do you like the format? Anything you’re curious about? As always, thanks for coming along for the journey.

Honestly,

Theresa

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I learned that Colorado is an agency state, so you must work with a licensed agency for pre- and post-placement (which includes a home study, background checks and 16 hours of education), and then an actual placement agency that works with birth parents. Many states can just work with a private attorney, but Colorado only works with licensed entities.

After the initial research to gather information, we waited another six months to really get the process started. While there are so many ways to build a family through adoption, (foster to adopt, international adoption, domestic adoption), we decided we wanted to pursue domestic, infant adoption. By early spring 2017, we submitted our application with the agency for our pre- and post-placement work.

After lots of research, we landed on working with A Love Beyond Borders. Then we had to figure out which agency we wanted to work with for placement. While there are several Colorado-based agencies, the average placement wait times for infant adoption at that time was 18-24 months. While that is an average, it was difficult to accept that we’d potentially have to wait that long to bring a baby home. So, the research continued, and I found American Adoptions. Their headquarters are in Overland Park, Kansas, but because they are a national agency, their average placement times were about 12 months because they are able to work with birth parents from all over the country. Additionally, their staff have been through adoption themselves, so for them it is so much more than a job, it’s personal.

Once those decisions were made, the fun really began. There were so many documents and contracts – background checks, medical exams, insurance approvals, and filling out our Adoption Planning Questionnaire (APQ). While infertility treatments are not for the faint of heart, the adoption process is no doubt riddled with just as much stress, fear, and tears.

And then there is the part that feels icky to talk about. Infertility treatments were no doubt expensive. For adoption, our placement agency told us that domestic, infant adoption can range from $25-50K, on average. I believe there are a lot of misconceptions about what those costs are for, so here is a high-level breakdown.

• Agency fees

• Birth parent expenses, including medical expenses pre and post birth, transportation, housing (these are only if needed)

• Legal fees

• Travel expenses

• Home study fees

Beyond these expenses, one thing that was really important to us was that American Adoptions also provides free, lifelong, licensed counseling to birth parents before, during pregnancy and indefinitely after placement, focusing on grief, trauma, emotional transition and post-adoption support. This is something that I don’t think you can put a number on because this support should be offered, always.

Your budget is ultimately defined in your APQ, which I will get into more in my next post, but once everything was signed, we started our home study with our social worker. This is typically a two-to-three-month process that includes sessions together as well as separate sessions diving into every personal detail you can imagine, from your own upbringing and family life, to how you plan to raise a child, give them consequences, teach them, etc. It also includes a full review of your home to ensure it is safe – this did not mean we needed to have a complete nursery or everything baby-proofed, but rather identifying things like that we needed a fire extinguisher.

We also had to complete CPR training and our 16 hours of education which included reading several books beforehand and then two full days of classroom work. I truly was so grateful for the education because going into the adoption process, I had a lot of fears. Mostly around open adoption. I was adamant that I’d want a closed adoption, but the more I learned, the more I realized my own fears were coming from a place of misinformation. That in fact, what open adoption can look like varies, but in nearly every situation, having an open adoption is always beneficial for the child. When we signed with American Adoptions, we agreed to their minimum requirements for an open adoption which included sending updates and pictures twice per year until the age of six and then once annually on the child’s birthday. Anything additional could be determined once a match was identified.

What I also loved about our classroom time was being in a room with other individuals all pursuing adoption for a variety of reasons. We also spent a lot of time talking through the importance of positive language, and to this day I am hyperaware when someone says, “they gave up their baby.” That is an incredibly negative way to explain the remarkably selfless decision a birth parent makes. By placing their baby for adoption, they’re not giving them away, but rather showing them love by placing them with a family or individual who is eager to parent them.

After the education and home study portion was complete, we were able to begin working on our print, digital, and video profiles. While I’m sure video profiles are very common now, another reason we selected American Adoptions was because they already provided this service back in 2017. Many other placement agencies only had a print profile, but we loved the idea of being able to speak directly to a birth parent and let them see us beyond a still photo. The video also allowed us to have friends and family participate and speak on our behalf. After everything was filmed, American Adoptions took all of the raw footage and put together a beautiful video as part of our profile. We then still wrote all of the letters and details for our print and digital portions.

The entire process for all of the paperwork, home study, trainings, profile creation, etc., took about 6-7 months. I’m sure there are people that can do it more quickly, but we were still juggling work and other life obligations, so we felt grateful we were able to complete it in that timeframe.  

Then by November 2017, our profile went live and was being shared with birth parents that fit our APQ. I remember we were in Texas for a wedding, and we got the call from our adoption specialist telling us everything was live. It felt surreal. Everything we could do and had control over was done. Now we had to wait.

Honestly,

Theresa

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For many on this journey, IVF would be the logical next step, but we had spoken to our doctor a lot about that likely not being the most realistic option. My insurance at the time didn’t cover IVF so our cost would have been $20,000. This was on top of the amount we’d already spent for the past year on the parts of my treatment not covered either. Because of my unicornuate uterus, even if implanting the embryo would be successful, my miscarriage rate was still nearly 50%. As two 26-year-olds, that was a lot of money to put on the line for not the greatest of odds of having a pregnancy make it to a live birth.

So instead, we paused everything. The truth is, during that year of treatments, I completely lost myself. Looking in on us it would seem as if we had everything we could possibly want. But the desire to be a mother hadn’t changed and now the impending reality that it just might not happen, and I was the reason, became stifling. 

I lost my confidence as a woman. The acne and constant hormonal swings from all of the medications made me feel like a stranger in my own body. Which of course on the surface is so superficial and shouldn’t matter, but when you’re facing the possibility of not being able to do the one thing a woman should biologically be able to do, the superficial stuff seems to matter even more. 

I tried to picture my life without children and a family, and part of me could see it. But I know that really I was just going into self preservation mode so that if it didn’t work out, I could just go on with life and be fine. Only I was never truly sure what fine and going on with life was supposed to look like.

We were grieving. No we hadn’t physically lost a child, but we lost the dream that I may one day carry my own child. We were so lucky to even be able to go through fertility treatments, but with each failure, my feelings of inadequacy increased. It was unbearable.

I needed to get back to a place where I just had fun and did things for the sheer joy of it. I hadn’t felt like myself in so long, that as happy as I would have been to give up all of the things I was required to during treatments, since it didn’t work, I needed to take a minute to do things for myself. It’s hard not to feel selfish when saying that, but I believed that if I got back to a place where I found some semblance of normalcy again, things might start to make sense once more.\

The feelings of loss are endless. It makes you evaluate everything you thought you knew about yourself, your relationship and life in general. This may seem like an exaggeration to someone who hasn’t been through it, but even now, nearly 10 years later, I can still feel that unimaginable pain deep inside me. That longing that finds a permanent part of everything you are.

In the midst of all the pain, unfortunately, my ex-husband and I didn’t do a good job working through our emotions. At first, we had incredibly honest conversations with each other. Many were ugly. Many still hurt to think about even now. We were raw. I didn’t just want to sweep things under the rug and he didn’t want to dwell. So we ended up burying the pain, the anger, the animosity and tried to move on with life. We’d go out nearly every weekend, travel and always stayed busy so we didn’t have to face reality. The problem with that is of course, all of that is always sitting under the surface ready to rear its ugly head. And it did. Often. Sometimes it was stupid and we could move on, and sometimes it was earth-shattering and left us knowing we were tearing each other apart and creating wounds that would be nearly impossible to heal.

Hanging out with family and friends. Traveling. Trying to find normalcy.

For those that know me personally or as my blog says, I am divorced. Some wounds leave deeper scars than others, but I can openly and gratefully say, my ex and I are on wonderful terms. Our journey didn’t end here and I’ll dive more into what did come next for us, but as I am sharing the journey honestly, it’s only fair to note that while many couples can go through infertility and come out stronger, we were not one of those cases. We struggled. A lot. So, if you’re going through this too, you’re not alone. Struggling as a couple doesn’t mean you won’t make it—but it’s okay to feel the crushing weight of it all. Sometimes, just knowing you don’t have to have all the answers right now is enough.

As always, thanks for reading and being here for the journey.

Honestly,

Theresa

So back to the doctor we went. What could we do next? What would be their recommendation? Intrauterine insemination (IUI) was what they wanted us to pursue next – which is most commonly known as artificial insemination.

The process is not romantic and very clinical, but at this point we had nothing to lose and everything to gain. With this, I still took Letrozole for a week and triggered with Ovidrel, but instead of timing intercourse, we bypassed that and went straight to the doctor’s office 36 hours after my shot. Of course, this can be early morning hours or even the weekend – several of our appointments happened early in the day or even on a Saturday or Sunday.

Once you arrive at the doctor’s office, they take your partner’s sperm sample, process it to separate out only the strongest and healthiest sperm, and then they use a catheter to insert the sperm directly into the uterus through your cervix.

Even after all of these years, I can remember the sterile room, bright lights and everyone trying to joke around as I lay there, legs in stirrups with 4 different people in the room all telling me to relax. Not even my husband was near me – just in a corner, out of the way – so the doctor and nurses could do what they needed. After about 10 minutes, with a metaphorical slap on my ass, they told me to go home and rest. I returned home and my husband went back to work.

During that TWW I remember feeling so anxious, like everything was on me to make this work. That my body was the problem – that I was broken. Oddly, I never thought getting pregnant once we got me ovulating would be the problem. I was always more worried about staying pregnant.

The toll this process was taking on my marriage was evident. At this point, six months in, we were hurting and in turn hurting each other. It doesn’t help when you’re spending every moment taking pills, shots, heading to appointment after appointment and then trying to put on a brave face when friends and family tell you they’re pregnant. When you’re so exhausted from all of the hormones coursing through your body and you feel like you’re losing control. Nothing was how it was supposed to be and I had nowhere to turn. So, mistakingly, I said nothing, didn’t get help, and internalized everything.

Still, I tried to stay optimistic and marked the days off the calendar until I could take the pregnancy test. Spoiler alert, it was negative. I was numb. Weak. I felt utterly powerless.

Honestly,

Theresa

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This is what that process broke down to after that first cycle day (CD) one appointment:

CD 3-7: Take 2.5mg of Letrozole twice daily.

CD 9: Go back for an ultrasound for a follicle check. The doctor needed to see how my follicles were responding as well as how my uterine lining was. At this check my follicles were not yet very mature so the doctor put me on three more days of Letrozole and upped my dosage to three times a day.

CD 12: Another follicle check. Still my follicles were not mature enough so the doctor put me on two more days of Letrozole.

At this point, I was slowly starting to feel some of the side effects of Letrozole like bloating, headaches, and ridiculous hot flashes! But everything was manageable.

Another thing of note when taking fertility medications is that they typically cause multiple follicles to develop, which increases the chance of releasing more than one egg during ovulation — and therefore raises the chance of twins or multiples.

Because of my unicornuate uterus (UU), the doctor had already warned me that they would only proceed with the cycle if I had three or less mature follicles on each side. Because I was already high-risk, if I were to become pregnant with multiples, they would pursue selective reduction, aka abortion, because it’s too risky to allow me to carry multiples. Even so, we kept going with more medication and a higher dose.

CD 14: Finally my follicles were the size they wanted! The good news was that I only had one mature follicle on each side. The even better news was that the larger follicle was on my left side which is the side that has a fallopian tube. At this point my uterine lining was still a bit thin so the doctor prescribed Estradiol for two days to help get the lining thicker which is important for implantation. (TMI ahead, but this blog is all about honesty!) I was prescribed a vaginal Estradiol which are blue tablets and therefore make your discharge look like you just got frisky with a Smurf, but at least it created some levity at the time.

CD 15: The evening of CD 15 I was able to do my trigger injection of Ovidrel. Ovidrel mimics the body’s natural LH surge and tells your ovaries: “Release that mature egg!” And then ovulation typically happens 36–40 hours after the shot. Basically it takes the guess work out of when your body will actually ovulate since it will happen during that window. The night of my trigger shot we had to be at a church for mass because my ex-husband was a confirmation sponsor for a family member. Halfway through when I knew it was time, I excused myself and locked myself into a bathroom stall to give myself my first injection. I was alone, shaking because I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, all while hearing a congregation pray and sing with no clue to what was happening just on the other side of the wall. It was weird. Really fucking weird.

After the trigger shot we had to have timed (cringe) intercourse 12 hours after the injection and again 36 hours from the time of injection. Talk about taking the romance out of the process. When you’re literally setting an alarm to get busy it can be a bit odd. But still it was all worth it for the hope of having a baby of our own.

After said timing, we entered the dreaded two week wait (TWW). The ~14 days between ovulation or your trigger shot and when you can reliably take a pregnancy test. If you test too early, you might get a false positive from the trigger shot or a false negative because implantation hasn’t happened yet.

You suddenly become hyper-aware of your boobs, dreams, discharge, and bathroom trips. When Googling things like “twinges 7dpo (days post ovulation)” and “is nausea at 9dpo real or in my head?” becomes your part-time job. During this window you also never know if things going on in your body are actual pregnancy symptoms or just hormones. It’s an absolute rollercoaster.

The TWW finally came to an end, but then aunt flow reared her ugly head. I had a feeling something was up the day before when I had a headache and some spotting. I often get a headache right before my period starts, but a headache and spotting are also early pregnancy signs so it can be hard to know for sure. I woke up early that Saturday morning – too anxious to sleep in. As I was taking my pregnancy test my period started in full swing. Here I am literally sitting in the bathroom peeing on a pregnancy test and bawling. Naturally the test showed a BFN – big fat negative.

It was definitely tough and emotional during the moment, but then we decided right away to press on and started our second medicated and timed intercourse cycle heading to the doctor’s office that next morning. For the second round, the doctor upped my dosage right off the bat so I took 7.5mg of Letrozole. Unfortunately, when I went in for my follicle check I was told that my mature follicle was on my right side, which is my tubeless side. Because there is only a small chance for conception to occur when you ovulate from a tubeless side, the doctor decided to cancel the cycle. That meant no more medication or trigger injection for that month. I would have to wait until my next cycle occured. I felt deflated and started to figure out other ways I could keep myself distracted for the next month.

One thing I started pouring myself into even more was my job. I’ve always been incredibly career driven, but now more than ever I felt like I needed to do something I could control. And it paid off – during that month off I was promoted at my job – and it was something good I could focus on for the time being. No one at work knew what was going on in my personal life. Something, as a woman, I very much felt I needed to keep to myself. If I would have told anyone, would the VP over my office have treated me differently? Would he have approved my promotion? It’s all speculation, but I wasn’t going to take that risk.

It’s terrible as women and individuals generally that we feel we have to hide things like this for fear of the consequences or potential obstacles they could produce. Sadly, while I do think more and more people are willing and open to share what they’re going through, we as a society are also continually told to keep our mouth shut. I too admit that I rarely share anything in my personal life with my coworkers even now, which is so at odds with who I am as an individual. I’m not saying I necessarily want to change that, but it’s strange sometimes to reflect on how ingrained that mentatility is in me, which is likely even more of a reason for wanting to write this blog. So if you’ve made it this far, thanks for being here as I spill my guts

Honestly,
Theresa

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“Your blood results show that you have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome.” PCOS for short. PCOS is a common hormone disorder that affects people with ovaries, usually during their reproductive years. It can cause irregular periods, high levels of testosterone, and cysts on the ovaries. PCOS can also lead to symptoms like acne, weight gain and difficulty getting pregnant due to lack of ovulation. Because of the hormone imbalance, the ovaries may not release an egg regularly (or at all), which is called anovulation. Without ovulation, there’s no period or the periods become irregular, making it harder to conceive naturally.

I felt like I was hit by a freight train. The cyst that ruptured when I was 13. The constant issues with hormonal acne. The irregular periods. Ovulation strips not working. There were so many signs.

The doctor kept talking and said that getting me ovulating would actually be a pretty simple fix – they can prescribe Clomid or Letrozole – medications that stimulate ovulation. Letrozole is typically preferred for patients with PCOS. Okay. I had so many questions, but before I could dive in, he cut me off.

“Mrs. Ahrens, the other result we need to discuss is your HSG.” Oh. Right. He did say there were two things.

“You have what is called a unicornuate uterus.” I’m a unicorn? Ha. Surely I didn’t hear that correctly. I sat silently, my husband and I not looking at each other, my hands in my lap, as the doctor went on to explain.

A unicornuate uterus is a rare type of uterus that forms when only one side of the uterus develops properly. Instead of the usual pear shape with two sides (horns), it ends up looking more like a half-uterus — smaller and with just one functioning side.

It can sometimes affect fertility or pregnancy, depending on how much of the uterus is developed and whether the other side formed a small, non-working “remnant.” It affects about 1 in 500 to 1 in 1,000 women — so roughly 0.1% to 0.2% of the general female population. It is considered one of the rarest uterine anomalies.

I think he spoke for at least another 10 minutes describing what he saw in my HSG – my uterus looks like a banana with no other side/remnant at all. He’s never seen anything like it… I lost track with all the roaring in my ears. When I finally was able to refocus again, he ended it with saying that he does not have the expertise to work with me so he would need to refer me to a different office, specifically, the Colorado Center for Reproductive Medicine (CCRM). With that, he handed me a folder with all of my results and a CD of my HSG images and sent me on my way.

Unlike the feeling I had after the HSG appointment where I lost myself in tears, I felt a heaviness in my chest – one that I didn’t realize would stay with me for years. However, as an educated journalist, I did the first thing I could think of and started researching everything I could about unicornuate uteruses. Unfortunately, given the small percentage of women this affects, the research is limited. So instead, I called CCRM and made our consultation appointment – which of course would not be for another two months – and waited patiently while I tried to keep everything under control.

Two months later and the appointment was finally here. After filling out a host of paperwork before we even arrived, we sat down with the doctor and talked in more detail about the results and what our next steps could look like. One thing they wanted to confirm was if I had both fallopian tubes, ovaries and even kidneys because often with a unicornuate uterus, you will only be developed on one side. We learned that I only have the left side of my uterus and left fallopian tube. I don’t have the right side, but I do have both ovaries and both my kidneys. The doctor then went on to explain in great detail about the risks and complications of my unicornuate uterus.

• Miscarriage Rate: The risk of miscarriage is higher in people with a unicornuate uterus, with studies suggesting a 40-50% chance of miscarriage in the first trimester.

• Ectopic Pregnancy: There’s a higher risk of ectopic pregnancy and if there is a complication, I only have one tube which I could lose.

• Preterm Labor: The condition can increase the likelihood of preterm labor (before 37 weeks), with a 30-50% chance of preterm delivery, which is higher if there is no remnant side.

• Fetal Position: There may also be an increased chance of abnormal fetal position (like breech or transverse), which can complicate delivery.

In my naïveté, I thought getting pregnant would be the hurdle, not staying pregnant. After walking us through all of the details of what our next steps would be, he sent us home to talk and decide what we wanted to do. We would have at least a month because they needed to give me Progestin to induce my period so we could have a new cycle before anything else could happen.

I was terrified. I walked out of that room not knowing if I did want to move forward. Was I willing to put my body through the hell he said would come from the various drugs, let alone dozens of appointments I would need to rearrange my entire schedule for? Was I willing to give up the things I enjoyed doing like hot yoga because that would be too risky for me? Was I willing to endure weeks of bed rest that he said would be highly likely if I made it past the first trimester? Would I be willing to raise a baby with complications from a preterm delivery? What if I went through all this and still didn’t get pregnant? Was I a monster for thinking these things? And then for the first time, it truly hit me. I had no one to talk to about this. No one that understood what I was potentially facing. Everyone in my life at that point either hadn’t been trying for kids yet, or the ones that did, were able to get pregnant and have happy and healthy babies.

My ex-husband thought it was an easy decision – of course we would try. If we have a chance, was it unfair of me to take that possibility off the table? And so over the course of the next two months I warred internally. We told our families. I finished my master’s degree. We attended weddings. Then we decided to move foward and I got my first round of ultrasounds, bloodwork, and medication – and life was never the same again.

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Honestly,

Theresa

As we very quickly found out, life had other plans. I had been on birth control for more than a decade at this point. I knew that when coming off birth control it can take a bit for things to even out again cycle-wise, but otherwise most doctors say that if you are under the age of 35 it could take up to a year to conceive.

For me though, things were going haywire almost immediately. I was getting a period almost every two weeks, then a cycle where it was nearly 60 days. I had purchased at home ovulation strips, but nothing ever showed up. At six months, I knew I needed to call the doctor, so my OB/GYN referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist. Of course, the first appointment was over two months away, but by May of that year, we were talking to the specialist and he was telling us the various steps we would take initially to see what was going on. This would include a full hormone blood panel and then a hysterosalpingogram (HSG), which is a specialized X-ray procedure used to examine the uterus and fallopian tubes. A contrast dye is injected into the uterus to check for blockages or abnormalities that could affect fertility. It’s commonly used to diagnose issues like blocked tubes or uterine irregularities.

The bloodwork was done in just a routine office visit and then we went in for the HSG. When we arrived for that appointment, the nurses told me I might experience some mild discomfort but that it’s usually over in about 5-10 minutes and then the doctor can pretty much tell you right away what’s going on after he finishes the procedure.

As I got up on the table with my husband sitting in the corner in the dark, I remember feeling so optimistic. The doctor started the procedure with me flat on my back and both he and the nurse were chatting away. Then he asked me to rotate to the left, and suddenly they were chatting less. Then he asked me to rotate to the right and they became silent. He had me stay there for several minutes before having me rotate again. The silence continued. He then abruptly finished the procedure, told me to get dressed and left the room. At this point I’m panicking but think he will tell us what’s going on when we walk out. However, after I was done getting dressed the nurse came to tell us that the doctor won’t be seeing me and that he wants us to make a separate appointment to discuss my results.

We walked out into the spring sunshine with our heads down not saying a word to one another. Our drive home was silent. When we walked through the door of our home I finally allowed myself to cry. Only I didn’t yet know what I was crying for, but I knew my whole world was about to change.

Stay tuned for the results of the HSG and the continuing journey in my next post!

Honestly,

Theresa

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As part of starting my cycle at such a young age, I also started getting puberty breakouts pretty regularly in 7th grade. I could usually keep them at bay with a good skincare regimen and regular facials. Eventually that wasn’t really doing the trick though, so like many young people, I turned to the dermatologist and was prescribed Minocycline.

Unfortunately, that only worked for so long and then I started the road of various types of topicals and different prescriptions, different types of birth control, you name it. All of which would work for a while and then stop again. I played this game of acne medication roulette until my sophomore year of college. Nothing was working anymore and the breakouts were getting worse and were becoming more cystic in nature. Once again, I made a trip to the dermatologist and waited with bated breath for some miracle that they would tell me would help. I was prescribed Accutane, and I thought surely they wouldn’t prescribe me such an intense drug if they thought there were any other options, so I went forward with it.

If you don’t know, Accutane has many side effects from extremely dry skin and chapped lips, sun sensitivity to depression and suicidal ideation. It is also known to cause severe birth defects so you must be on birth control while you take it and have to have blood work done every month before your next dose is prescribed. A course of treatment is typically 4-6 months and like most treatments, your acne may get worse before it gets better.

I was on it for the full 6 months and it was grueling. I definitely went through days where I felt depressed and kept questioning what I was doing to myself. But every month, when I went to the doctor she assured me things were on track. And at the end of 6 months, she was right, my skin was clear and I was headed to New York City for an internship feeling better and more confident in my skin than ever. That lasted about 9 months and then the breakouts started coming back. Not as intensely at first, just a few here or there. I could manage it, or so I thought. By the time I was half way through my senior year of college, the cystic breakouts were back again and I was desperate to do something because soon I’d be graduating and didn’t want to keep dealing with this. So back I went to the same dermatologist who said, “some people just need a second course of Accutane to really get rid of it.”

So that’s what I stupidly did. I went back on Accutane for another 6 months. And again it kept me clear for a bit, but then the breakouts came back. I couldn’t believe it. I thought I was an anomoly. Why wasn’t it working for me? So I turned to supplements and kept getting regular facials – anything I could to try and deal with it while I was working my first post-college job.

And then I got engaged. Well, I knew I didn’t want to have breakouts and terrible skin for my wedding, so I decided to head back to the dermatologist. But this time, I wasn’t in college and had new insurance, so I picked a new, highly-rated doctor and made my appointment. When I met with him and he reviewed my history, he immediately looked at me and said my acne was the classic sign of hormone related breakouts and that that is the reason I likely wasn’t having luck with the other things and that I should try Sprionolactone instead. I was dumbfounded. Had I just wasted years dealing with medications and the side effects when clearly they were never going to help? How did my previous dermatologist not think about this?

So he prescribed Spironolactone. It’s not officially an acne medication — it’s a diuretic and blood pressure medication — but it works for acne because it blocks androgens (like testosterone). These hormones can cause excess oil production, which leads to breakouts, especially around the jawline, chin, and lower face. It works by helping calm the hormonal fluctuations that lead to cystic acne and reduce oil production. It is a pretty common treatment for hormonal acne, especially in adult women.

And you know what? It worked. I had limited side effects (unlike Accutane), though you still must use some form of birth control due to the risks of birth defects. I was clear for my wedding, honeymoon, months after – until I started my fertility journey, but that’s a story for another day.

I’ve spent the last decade on and off Spironolactone, but now, at almost 36, I’ve been back on it for almost 9 months. And the truth is, while many people will talk about how it’s not a cure or it’s just a bandaid, what I’ve learned during this is that everyone’s journey with acne is different. In a future post I’ll get more into the details of my hormonal imbalance, but for me, Spironolactone works. No, it’s not a cure and I still get monthly facials and use the incredible Face Reality skincare line (no not an ad ;)) but my body needs that extra help to balance things out. No supplement, diet change or anything else I’ve tried has helped, so if this does, that’s OK. I have done countless hours of research and make informed decisions about anything I put in or on my body – something I’d always recommend to anyone considering acne treatments or other treatments.

As women, we are constantly being inundated with how to look and feel better because of society. But what about what we want? You want to get botox? Hell yes, girl, do your thing. Boob job? I say, “tits up.” Dye your hair? Go for the rainbow. Completely au natural? Wear it proudly. My point is, I found something that works for me and makes me feel better. We shouldn’t apologize for that just because others don’t agree or understand. And personally, I might wear my laugh lines, but I don’t plan to stop covering my grays anytime soon!

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Honestly,

Theresa

One weekend when I was 13, I was sitting in our family room and I started having excruciating pain in my lower right abdomen. After trying to ignore if for a bit, I finally told my mom when it wasn’t getting any better, and fearing it was my appendix, she got me in the car and we headed to the ER. Once we arrived, they did an assesment and determined it wasn’t my appendix – which was a relief – but what was going on and why was the pain not going away?

After waiting for a while longer, the doctor came into the room and point blank, in front of my mother asked, “Do you think you’re pregnant?”

WHAT?

I’m 13, I’m not sexually active and you just asked me that IN FRONT OF MY MOTHER?

I immediately said no, but not after feeling the judgement rolling off of this doctor in waves and my mom staring a hole into me. The doctor said they wanted to perform an ultrasound just to be sure (you know, in case I was lying) and said they would be back to take me to radiology soon.

As soon as she left the room my mom immediately started asking all sorts of questions and I told her in no uncertain terms that I absolutely was not and could not be pregnant.

Once I was rolled into radiology and they started the ultrasound, which as a teenage girl you don’t realize is vaginal and makes you feel even more violated, the picture suddenly became clear. I had dozens of cysts in my ovaries and quite a bit of fluid which indicated that a large cyst likely ruptured.

A ruptured cyst can mimic many of the same symptoms as appendicitis, but typically does not require surgery. With this new information in hand and some pain meds administered in my IV, the doctor who previously reamed me with her judgement, did a complete 180 and came back oozing with sympathy and told me I should be feeling better in a few days. No apology for her earlier behavior, just a smile and sent me on my way.

As a young girl, I had no idea how much that interaction would stick with me. As I’ve gone through life and my infertility journey meeting with many different healthcare providers, I remember that one moment like it was yesterday. I so wish I could go back to the younger me now and standup to that doctor and tell her how wrong she was for shaming me. Even if I had been pregnant, her bedside manner was gross and created an unsafe space.

Looking back on that day, there were so many signs pointing to what would end up being the first signs of a bigger health journey, but that would not come to light for another decade.

As a mother, sister, aunt, daughter and friend, that one experience with one shitty doctor gave me the push as an adult to ensure I never let a healthcare provider make me or someone I love feel small or unheard. Advocating for yourself is critical and I wish I hadn’t felt so alone as a young girl.

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Honestly,

Theresa

Why you might ask?

Like most everyone, I have experienced various highs and lows in life – some that have taken me really low and some that have changed the course of everything I thought I knew. One thing I’ve learned through it all though, is that it’s really scary to feel like you’re alone in the journey. Everyone’s journey is obviously different, but with the world feeling like it’s going to hell in a handbasket daily, I thought, why not start putting it out there to see if there is even one other person who might feel a little less alone by reading my experience.

What this blog is

A place to share one woman’s honest, unfiltered experience with infertility, adoption, divorce, motherhood, career aspirations, co-parenting, love, and living – with the hope of connecting with other women and individuals trying to do this life thing.

What this blog is not

I am not a medical professional, psychologist, social worker, etc. so I will not be giving professional advice. The information I share is strictly from my own experience and opinions. Take it or leave it.

While there are many different topics I plan to touch on, as you get to know me, if ever there is something you want to know more about, please feel free to ask.

My life and approach to all of this is to be and share just as the name of this blog suggests – through imperfect honesty. I definitely don’t do everything right, let alone perfectly, but what I can promise, is that I’ll be open and honest about it all.

So, if you’re interested in tagging along on this crazy adventure, feel free to subscribe to this free blog today, and together we can pretend we know what the hell we’re doing.

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Honestly,

Theresa