paradigm shift

The day had come. I could no longer fit into my pants and the hair elastic I was using to keep them from falling down just wasn't cutting it.

It was time to go shopping for maternity clothes.

So one Saturday afternoon I pulled myself together and went to the mall. First I grabbed a Boo.ster Juice, then went in to Chap.ter's to check the sale rack, headed to a few kids clothing stores to check out the new stock, and perused the shoe stores. I was stalling.

I finally dragged myself to the prominent maternity store in the mall and started looking. I was immediately approached my a sales clerk who ended up being a huge help. I think I must have tried on at least 12 pairs of jeans that day. I purchased a few sweaters and a really nice pair of jeans and left. All the while with an odd unexplainable feeling in my gut.

It was later as I replayed that day over in my mind that I realized part of why it was difficult for me to even walk into the store. This was a paradigm shift for me. An identity crises of sorts.

So many years ago I would have loved the opportunity to shop for maternity clothes. So many years ago I longed for that experience as then I would have what I most desired...a child. But I am not the same person I was all those years ago. Much has happened since then.

While going through infertility and the adoption process, the maternity stores and most everything else pregnancy/baby related became something very negative. Something to remind me (mock me) of what I didn't know if I would ever have. It wasn't the pregnancy piece that I so desired, it was a baby. And since pregnancy was the conduit to a baby, all things pregnancy related became bad news. This was my reality and my life. I was not going to get pregnant which was totally fine with me, what was not fine, was not having a family.

The day that I walked into the maternity store was the day I realized that I was now a part of a club that I had struggled with for so many years. A club all about "the labour story", the relatively "easy" way to have a family...and the more accepted, "real" way to bring a child into your home. I had reconciled in myself so many years ago that I would never be a part of that club. And as the adoption proceeded, and now that T is home, it's a club that I didn't need or want any longer. My family came together in an unconventional way and we continue to live an unconventional life as a transracial family. This is who I was and who I understood. I don't understand pregnancy and the "regular" way to have a child.

As a pregnant woman, I am now that woman. The one I would avoid. The one I envied. 

A few months ago I had a conversation with a woman going through infertility and she asked me how I dealt with everyone around me being pregnant. I chatted honestly with her about my story. Inside my heart hurt. I knew that sooner rather than later I would need to disclose to her that I had become that woman to deal with. I felt like a traitor.

I know that the difference between myself and the regular pregnant woman, is that I own the story of infertility and adoption. Becoming pregnant does not erase that experience. I'm just struggling with how to understand and fit into my new reality.