The realities of a single woman adopting from Haiti

When I first started my journey to being a mom (through insemination) I knew it wouldn’t be easy.  Sunshine and rainbows would not be in my immediate future, but I knew without a doubt it would be worth it.  All the poking and prodding and monitoring of my cycle would be agonizing, but I was okay with all of it.  It was a means to an end.

In November of 2015 when I started the adoption process, I knew my journey was going to become much harder, even more invasive and much more expensive, but again I knew in my heart that it was what I needed to do.

The realities of this journey have surprised even me, me the girl who plans and reads and researches and re-plans and re-reads everything!

The costs – financially are exorbitant.  For the first year I literally was in the bank on a monthly (sometimes weekly!) basis moving money around and getting money orders to pay everyone under the sun.  My money – it’s running out.  Well in reality it has run out.  I am actually looking forward to re-mortgaging my house when it comes up so I can pay off the debt and have my nest egg (which is going towards paying the second half of my adoption costs) settled. The thing that kills me is that none of this money has gone towards my sweet little child who I don’t even know yet!

Every penny, paid to whomever, is worth it.

The costs – emotionally are exhausting.  I see people I have connected with in chat groups get their referrals, their Visas, their Exit letters and of course their homecomings and I am jealous.  Not like the boy I like, likes another girl jealous – but WHY NOT ME???!!! jealous and that is an envy that isn’t fair to anyone.

Every tear and sad face is worth it.

I don’t have a partner to share in my grief.  Most people who adopt have that special someone that they can lean on when the wait becomes to long.  They have someone to talk to who understands and most of all is REALLY REALLY interested in everything you are thinking and hoping for. My friends and family love me and they care and are excited for me, but they don’t have the same passion obviously as a spouse would have and sometimes I feel completely alone.

Every ounce of longing is worth it.

I don’t have a partner to share my fears with.  There is a Hurricane blowing in quickly and fiercely.  My child, the one I don’t know, is living there, as are hundreds of other children, with no parents to wrap them in their arms and keep them safe.  The sweet nannies and creche directors I know do everything they can, but nothing replaces a mother or fathers warm embrace. With every update on Hurricane Irma, my anxiety rises and my prayers become deeper and longer.  Other people are disappointed their Caribbean vacation spots will be destroyed – I am terrified, the child meant for me, will be harmed or that their biological family will be injured, it takes everything in me not to scream.

Every prayer and raised heartbeat is worth it.

Co-parenting will not be my reality.  I was with my friend and her husband this weekend – as I am most weekends, and their youngest was having trouble pooping.  She had been constipated for a couple of days and she was screaming and crying not wanting to poop.  What a simple concept for us adults.  You have to poop.  She was bribed, begged and pleaded with for over an hour and her parents were lucky – they had each other to tag out.  When one needed a break to get out of that small cottage bathroom, the other was there.  When my kid refuses to poop – and don’t they all at some point – it will be me.  My patience will be tested.  My frustration levels and anxiety will be pushed to the limits.  My kid will stomp on my buttons and I can’t push back. I am the adult.  The only adult.  I have no one to tag out with and that reality kicked me pretty hard this weekend as I looked down on that sad little face of a girl who wouldn’t poop.

I can handle this.  Not only can I handle this, I WILL handle this and while I know sometimes I will fail, sometimes I’ll barely pass, my child will NEVER doubt that they are loved.  They will always have a soft spot to fall and that is something we all need a little more of.

Love Nicole



young love

it was the fall of 1994, I was 13 and felt I was so mature that I could totally understand and appreciate love and relationships and no one could tell me anything. And that’s the year I fell for Noel, my first kiss and in all honesty my first boyfriend.

One day after school he pulled me under the large concrete stairs of our school and we were talking and getting to know about each other and he kissed me.  Softly and sweetly and a very innocent fairy tale version of romance.  We were 13, it didn’t go further, but we continued kissing a lot and getting to know each other for a few months (a long time in 7th grade!).

20 years, many failed relationships, lots of kisses and heart breaks later and I’m not that same believer in love and romance.  The innocence of it all has passed, my faith has been shattered.  I don’t even know when it happened.  I think a long time ago, but it could have been just yesterday for all I know.  I just stopped thinking of passionate love and started thinking the only thing that existed was passionate lust.  Guys don’t plan that first special kiss the way Noel did when I was 13, they think about how much more can they get while that first kiss is taking place – and oh ya what’s the score of the hockey (football, basketball, baseball) game?

I’m 34 and jaded.  My friends are married or in relationships and the ones that have been in long term relationships don’t fantasize about sweetness, they jump at the chance for a girls night, they relish alone time.  Well, I have all that now.  I see my girls all the time, I am alone ALL. THE. TIME.  If that’s what my future holds then I think God how sad. The husbands aren’t any better.  They don’t smile sweetly at their wives or flirt with their girlfriends, they work – a lot, they play sports, they go fishing.  This is real life.  Is that why I’m single?  Is it because I always wanted the fairy tale?  I wanted a man who loved me the way my daddy made me believe I deserved to be loved.  I try and fight my friends, force them into romance, but the fact is I have watched one to many movies.  If they had a (3 years later) in these movies I would see Ryan Gosling not kissing his love in the rain, but cussing out his woman for forgetting to bring home the milk and then going for a beer with the boys.

Kids don’t understand how great young love is!!  Case in point: today I was teaching a bunch of teenagers how to pass job interviews…there was a pretty 16 year old in the front row and her male friend sat directly behind her.  He was playing with her hair the whole time and the look of young love was in his big dark eyes.  She was slightly blushing and every once in a while she would catch my eye and I couldn’t help but squint at her and wrinkle my nose thinking she has no idea how lucky she is to have someone who wants to play with her hair and smile and adore her from afar.  At the same time, I was so happy to know that this is still happening 20 years later. It’s cute. Maybe I can be happy with old people romance and love if I can watch my kids live through young peoples version of love and romance.

How magical love and life is…stay tuned folks…maybe I’ll find a realistic love one day…maybe I’ll still be happy…




40 Pounds

Since I am being slaughtered having surgery for cyst removal again next month, I needed a check up from my family doctor – ya the same woman who refused to sign my referral to the fertility clinic over a year ago – so I headed over with all my pre-op forms and waited somewhat impatiently for her to see me.

The first thing she wanted was my height/weight. Now listen, I am not a stupid woman, all my “thinner” clothes I bought when I was on weight watchers in 2011 don’t even come close to fitting me anymore and the “normal” clothes I’ve worn for a few years before and after the 2011, 25 pd weight loss, barely fit and most days I’m lucky if I can squeeze into the 18’s that have been antagonizing me, taunting me from the closet. I knew I had gained 20 pds back after my initial 25 pd weight loss, what I was not expecting was for Dr. B to tell me I had gained an additional 20 pds so I am 40 pds up from my 25 pds weight loss! WTF! I am disgusted…I look at my body from a distance, rarely naked, hoping magically I’ll wake up and this will have been a nightmare. I pray that I don’t need to be at weight watchers anymore, but now I know I do. Weight Watchers has been the only thing for me that helps me stay on track. It’s a slow, but maintained weight loss solution that I need to dedicate myself to again and as much as that completely sucks, it’s my fault. There is no one else to blame. My father died and I just didn’t care anymore about what I was eating, when I was eating or why I was eating.  I hopped off the scale quickly and everything else she needed from me faded into the background, like white noise.  All I could see was the number on the scale – a number I had never seen before.  I was at my absolute heaviest ever.

I have surgery in two weeks so starting WW now would be foolish. I will begin the last week of September and work on getting this hunk of fat off my body. I will try not to complain. I will try not to wine and feel sorry for myself, but of course I will. I will forgive myself on those days though because I am not perfect and this will not be an easy or fun journey and its one I take alone.

What bothers me now is what do I do about my fertility treatments? Do I continue with IUI knowing I am not at a weight that ideally supports this? It will take months for me to lose the weight I need to (45-50 pds) – and even longer for me to lose the weight I want (about 75-80 pds). I can’t even fathom the idea of not trying to have little Koko once I’m healed from the surgery, but am I throwing away money and time to try to get pregnant as an overweight woman? I just don’t know. Maybe I should book a consult with my fertility doctor – I mean she would tell me wouldn’t she?? I just wish things were easier – but what’s the point of wishing…I need to make these dreams come true…I want to hold Koko in my arms and tell him or her how much they were wanted by their mommy. For now, I wait.

This next journey is surgery and seeing how (if) my body heals from it.