I’m addicted to podcasts. I actually look forward to gardening or cleaning house when I can tuck my iPod in my pocket, earbuds in my ear, and lose myself in a good show.  I’ve even taken to running while listening to shows.  And hey, I know I’m not the only closet addict, because lots of you have told me that you listen to the “Creating a Family” show via podcast. I like to imagine that I’m inspiration to vacuuming.

One of my favorite shows is the National Public Radio’s “This American Life”.  As I was deadheading and weeding my front bed last week, I listened to the show titled “Switched at Birth”.  (It’s free as a podcast if you download it the first week after it airs. I think you have to pay to download after that, but it is only $0.95.)

This true story started in the early 1950’s when two girls were born at the same hospital in a Wisconsin town.  As soon as Mrs. Miller brought her daughter home, she suspected she had been given the wrong baby.  For various bizarre reasons the Millers, primarily at the insistence of Mr. / Reverend Miller, did not act on their suspicion.  DNA testing wasn’t yet available, and there were other complicating factors that the show does a good job of explaining.  The other mother, Mrs. McDonald, did not suspect anything.  The Millers raised Marti and the McDonalds raised Sue.  Mrs. Miller told several people her suspicion, ostensibly to have them keep an eye out for Sue’s welfare, but I imagine this secret was just too big to keep to herself, and she needed the support.

Flash forward 43 years.  Rev. Miller is dead, and Mrs. Miller decides it is time to tell Marti and Sue.  She writes them each a letter explaining what happened, and all heck breaks loose.  The show follows the emotional fallout for both mothers and daughters.  I felt such compassion for them all, even Mrs. Miller by the end of the show, and I felt something close to awe at the resiliency of people and families.

This story is not about adoption or children conceived through donor egg, sperm, or embryo.  But as I was listening, I was struck by some universal lessons that do apply to families formed in alternative ways.  At its very essence, this story is about the destructive effect of family secrets.  Undoubtedly, the problems that ensued were exacerbated by major dysfunction in the Miller family, but secrets have a way of wrecking havoc in even the most functional families.

I think most adoptive families now accept that how their child joined the family should be told early and often, but this is still a hotly debated concept for families formed through donated gametes (egg or sperm) or embryo adoption.  There was an interesting study done many years ago which found that children adopted transracially scored better on psychological wellness testing later in life than children adopted by same race families.  The researchers theorized that this result could be explained by the openness about adoption that transracial placements naturally require.  Since the child looks different from the parents, the adoption is obvious and discussed more openly within the family.  It is easier for families that look alike “to pass”, and parents can overlook talking about adoption other than in the most cursory way.

A surprising number (at least to me) of parents who conceived through donor gametes or embryo adoption are trying “to pass”.  The problem is that passing implies shame, or at the very least, discomfort.  Perhaps a deep-seated feeling or fear that this alternative method of creating a family is not as good as the old-fashioned way, and the resulting families aren’t quite as real.

To state the obvious, there is nothing wrong with using donor gametes or embryo adoption, just like there is nothing wrong with adoption.  It is just a different, not inferior, way of forming a family.  Families formed in alternative ways can and do thrive.  What is dangerous and destructive to these families, in my opinion, is keeping this information from your child.  Secrets, especially family secrets, have a way of coming out, and it usually isn’t in a good way.

The reality is that the child will in all likelihood find out.  If either parent has told even one other person, say a mother, a sister, or a best friend, this person has almost assuredly told one other person.  And this is the case regardless of how many times you told them that they couldn’t tell anyone else.  They will tell their mother, sister, or best friend and tell them not to tell anyone else.  Pretty soon, a number of people know, except for the person who has a right to know—the child.

And here’s the kicker–the very fact that you kept it secret gives it far more power than it deserves, and far more power than it would have had if it had been incorporated into the natural flow of family talk from the beginning.  If mom and dad hid this from me, it must be really bad; it must really mean something big.  I think we all want our kids to believe the way they joined our family is just a variation on normal, and the best time to convey this information and more important, this attitude, is when they are very young.  Also, from an emotional standpoint, the information that was withheld (their adoption or conception) can get all tied up in the explicit or implicit lies that went along with keeping the secret.  The emotions of being lied to then become part of the emotions of their conception or adoption.

The other thing this show brought home to me was the importance of genetics in determining our basic personality.  Pre-kids, I believed that the environment was mostly responsible for how our kids turned out.  Since I was going to be the perfect parent and create a perfect environment for my children, this theory gave me a great deal of comfort.  But the more kids I had, regardless of whether I “had” them through birth or adoption, the less sure I was of this theory.  I became even less enamored with this theory as my kids aged.

I now believe that nature and nurture work together, but that the basics of our temperament are determined by our genes.  The environment can bring out or suppress these traits, but can’t change the core.  And to tell you the truth, it’s a whole lot easier parenting when the entire weight of “creating” your child’s personality doesn’t fall directly on the environment you create.

The show didn’t dwell on it, but it implied how hard it can be on children when they have a different temperament or personality than others in their family.  In this story, I was left to wonder how much this discomfort was caused by the screwiness of the Miller family, but even Sue McDonald, who was raised in what seemed like a very loving and functional family, felt different and somehow inferior to others in her family.  It’s a little scary.  My family consists of six people with very different personalities, strengths and weaknesses.  I can only hope and pray that I can help each of my children honor the ways they are different and the ways they are similar to the rest of our family.  I guess I’ll have to wait until someone does a show on my family 20 years from now to see if my kids agree. Now, that is a really scary thought.

So what do you do if your family doesn’t share your excitement about your adoption plans?  First, if you think you may get a less than enthusiastic response, consider writing your family a letter telling them of your decision before you talk with them in person.  We chose this approach with my husband’s parents.  They like to think about things and discuss it between themselves before talking with others, so a letter gave them this opportunity.  Also, a letter allowed us to explain our reasons, and set the stage for their response by telling them how excited we were.

If you tell them in person, think about what you want to say and choose your words carefully.  One friend reported that she started the conversation with “I’ve got great news!”  Her parents assumed she was going to tell them she was pregnant, and their initial response at learning of the adoption was less than she had hoped.  They recouped quickly, however, and are now doting grandparents to her two children.

There is no one right way to handle negative responses to your adoption plans, but the first step is to really listen to your family’s concerns.  So often in conversations, we are plotting our response instead of hearing what the other person is saying.  Any of the following may be concerns that are getting in the way of their wholehearted support.
•    Are they struggling with the basic concept of adoption and think that you’ll be a glorified babysitter?
•    Are they worried about the loss of their bloodline continuing into the future?
•    Are they grieving the loss of their biological grandchild that would have reminded them of you when you were a baby?
•    Are they concerned about the race or ethnicity of your child, and how that will affect you –and them?
•    Do they think adopted children have lots of physical, emotional, and behavioral problems?
•    Are they worried about the cost and the subsequent financial burden you will carry?
•    Are they concerned that you are too old to become a parent.
•    Do they think that this adoption will hurt your biological children?
Don’t assume you know what they are thinking; ask them to tell you.

After you understand their concerns, present them with information on adoption. Share the books you’ve read and highlight the sections you want them to read.  Stress to them that this was not a decision you made lightly.  It may help to tell them some of your journey to adoption and the research you have done.  This is especially helpful if you have not shared all the steps along the way with them.  Let them know that you too have some concerns and fears about adopting.  Sometimes, just knowing that you are a little bit afraid, frees them up to be supportive.  And most important, specifically ask for your family’s support.  Explain how important it is to you and your child—their grandchild.  I think we underestimate this last step, just assuming that it is a given.

For example, if your father is concerned that your child to-be is of a different race, it may help to explain some of the research on how transracially adopted children and families fare.  Let him know that many families are adopting transracially so your family will not be so rare.  Explain the education you are getting to help prepare you for the issues that may arise.  Let him know your worries about being able to help your child as she grows.  Ask for his support.  Tell him how much he means to you, and that you are looking forward to seeing his relationship with his granddaughter develop.  Remind him of how much your connection (or lack thereof) with your grandparents meant to you in your life.

To help normalize the experience, invite your family to join you at an adoption support group meeting or invite them to a picnic with another family who adopted kids from the same country.  Just realizing that kids are kids regardless where they come from or how they join the family may help.

Throughout this time, if necessary, gently let them know that while you are open to questions, you are not open to them trying to change your mind.  If they are not receptive to this, give them time and yourself space.

Once your child arrives, most extended families fall in love and their original concerns fade away.  However, you need to be prepared that this may not happen.  Be very clear in your mind and with them that once the child arrives, your allegiance is to your child.  As a parent, you need to protect your child even if it means limiting his exposure to your family.

If your family was less than thrilled about your adoption, please share your story in the comments to help others who are going through this feel less alone.  It is so disappointing, discouraging, and sad to not have your parents, brothers or sisters support something that means so much to you.

EGAD Infertility Day was inspired by the comments I’ve read recently that were posted in online papers and magazines in response to articles about infertility.  Many of these comment reflected such an unimaginable depth of misunderstanding about this disease–stop whining, get over it, just relax, just adopt, worse things could happen, ad nauseam –that something had to be done, and that something is EGAD Infertility Day.

EGAD Infertility Day offers such potential for greeting card companies that it’s bound to become a big hit. I can just see the cards now featuring a woman with her feet in the stirrups spouting off some witty comment about infertility, or perhaps it should be the doctor that is doing the spouting and the comments should be educational rather than witty.  Well, I’ll leave the details to Hallmark, but when you’re ready to finally drop the “I” Bomb in answering the question from Great Aunt Debbie about when you are ever going to have kids, these cards will be just the thing.

For our inaugural EGAD Infertility Day, I’m sharing a short poem I wrote title Infertility Is….  Feel free to print and give freely to the Great Aunt Debbie’s of the world when trying to explain what you are going through.  Also, please please please leave your comments about what Infertility Is to you.  As Mel over at Stirrup Queen says, it’s time to de-lurk.

Infertility Is…

Infertility is a disease affecting the present and the future. Unless you’ve experienced it, it’s hard to understand:

The pain–a deep, scarring, searing pain-

at seeing the pink smear on the toilet paper each month;

at sharing your intimacy with doctors and nurses;

at receiving another pastel envelope inviting you to yet another baby shower that isn’t yours.

The anger—an enveloping, controlling, frightening anger-

at people who say “just relax” or “just not meant to be” when they don’t have a f___ing clue;

at God or karma or the universe or whatever the hell you call the force that is to blame;

at your partner.

The shame—a hidden, gnawing, ego-destroying shame-

at your jealousy of other’s easy conceptions;

at cutting people with children out of your life;

at your body’s failure.

The fear that this pain, anger, and shame will never end.

I run a nonprofit (I imagine that’s not news to you since you are reading this at the website of that nonprofit) and like most nonprofits, we try to save money wherever we can. It’s hard to beat free office space, so my office is in my house.  Most of the year I love this arrangement.  I can take a break to start dinner or throw in a load of wash mid afternoon, I can take my laptop to the porch to work, and I can’t beat the commute– a short climb up 24 creaky stairs.

But starting June 11, the first day school is out, along with the glories of summer comes the guilt.  It’s an odd sort of distraction.  I accept that I will have less time to actually work during the summer because of keeping one ear on what’s happening downstairs, what rules are being stretched, and who needs a distraction, but my husband also works from home, so we share this job.  The guilt thing, however, is mine alone and is harder to get a handle on. 

I feel guilty if I’m not doing things with my kids if they are around.  I feel like I have to, or should, maximize this opportunity to be with them.  To influence them, to instruct them, but mostly to have fun with them.  School time is guilt free time.  Summertime is another story all together.  

When my kids were younger, I worked part time out of the house, so there was much less juggling of work and home schedules.  When I was home, I was home to do home things.  Each week I would plan an art project, a cooking project, and a field trip.  It was almost like running a summer camp, and I loved it.  I know my parenting role has changed now that my children are older and so has my work schedule.  But I still think they need my time and attention and summer days present so many opportunities. 

I know it’s a cliché, but I’m more aware than ever that this time with our kids is fleeting.  All too soon, they will have lives of their own.  Actually, “too soon” is not the right description.  If we are lucky and if we do our job as parents right, it will be at the right time and they will be ready to phase us out of their everyday lives.  But, thank goodness,  most of mine are not there yet, and I want to relish every moment of the time I have left.  Now, the funny thing is, my kids are at the age when the last thing they want on most days is more undivided time and attention from dear old mom. But knowing that they feel this way doesn’t change how I feel.  

So, this summer I’ll be feeling that peculiar mommy summer guilt–wanting to spend my days with my kids and needing to spend them (or at least some of them) at my work.   So, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll succumb to the guilt and go rustle up a kid for a game of badminton, a cow race on the Wii, or some cookie cooking.

Peter and I attended an adoption support group when our second birth child was two in anticipation of adopting.  While at this meeting I listened to the parents discuss the adoption related problems their children faced.  One worried over her child’s dislike of being rocked; another was concerned about his child’s thumb sucking, and yet another talked about her child’s non stop motion.  I looked at Peter in horror.  Here we were with two children from birth that we had obviously screwed up royally because they were exhibiting most of these same “adoption symptoms”.  

Our son had never liked to be rocked.  In fact, he wasn’t much for cuddling at any time.  He favored motion, the faster the better.  Up to this point I had not realized it was a problem and thought it boded well for his future in sports, but now realized that he probably had attachment issues.  Our daughter was the most orally fixated child I had ever seen.  Once she got past a very deep attachment to her thumb (no small fete, I might add), she started biting her nails and sucking on her shirts and hair.  Up until this point I just encouraged frequent hand washing and looked for shirts that were hard for her to get into her mouth.  I wasn’t sure what this fixation meant, but after the adoption meeting, I knew it probably wasn’t good.  I hated to think what it meant that my son preferred to sleep on the floor under his bed or that my daughter hid her clean underwear in the potted plants.

Now all these years and two kids later I still don’t know why my kids do most of the things they do.  I’m not even sure I know why I behave like I do most of the time.  What I do know is that not all “weird” behavior is pathologic or predictive of future woes.  My son has bounced his way through life and started sleeping in a bed when he was 13.  (When asked why he moved to the bed, he said beds were more comfortable.  Duh!)  My daughter continues to bite her fingernails, but her shirts and hair are now dry and she hasn’t substituted cigarettes.  And, sad to say, I haven’t been on an underwear hunt in years.  

All four of my children –adopted and non-adopted alike–at some point in their life have wanted to dress like their peers in a way that  intentionally sets them apart from me.  Come to think of it, so did I when I was their age.  My mother thought I looked ridiculous, and from the safety of adulthood, I agree.  There are many things I love about my body, none of which are enhanced by hip hugger jeans.
 

I’m not trying to discount your fears or offer meaningless platitudes about everything turning out OK in the end.  You’ll get enough of that from others.  But in all my interviews and consulting with adoptive parents I’ve noticed a tendency in some to assume each “problem” their child is experiencing is related to adoption and an ill omen for the future.  I understand the need to try to make sense of our children’s behavior and strongly encourage you to get help soon and often.  But in our attempt to be proactive, I think we sometimes miss the point that adopted kids are more like birth kids than different.  In my experience, all kids can be pretty strange at times and it usually means nothing in the end.  As even Freud supposedly acknowledged, “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

The sad thing is that until she mentioned it, I hadn’t realized that our two stood apart from the other 25 adorably and fashionably dressed girls.  My standards for nice dress (also known as church clothes in our family) have dipped so low, that I now considered my daughter dressed up when she’s wearing her brown pants, instead of blue jeans, and her church flip flops.  Yes, she has a pair for dress occasions; and yes, they are almost identical to the other Old Navy flip flops she wears everyday, but cleaner—I hope.  And for those of you who are blessedly ignorant about Old Navy flip flops, they are identical to the ones you grew up wearing from Wal-Mart and similarly priced, but come in a rainbow assortment of colors.  We own enough colors that my daughter can coordinate her flip flops with her outfits.  Now, how’s that for fashionable.

This is my fourth child, or more to the point, my fourth teen.  I’m one of the BTDT (been there, done that) crowd, and I understand the progression from security blanket to security clothes.  My daughter feels secure in pants, cute shirt with a cami underneath (no matter how hot it is outside or how little flesh the shirt shows), and of course, flip flops.  My friend’s daughter’s security is her blue jacket and jeans.  As I chatted with my friend reassuring her that her daughter would someday outgrow the need for the blue jacket, or at the very least outgrow the jacket, I smugly (and silently) congratulated myself on keeping clothes in perspective.  As I inwardly smiled at the wisdom gained over four children, my eyes fell on my high school aged son, and I had to restrain myself from going over and pulling up his jeans.  His security, I’m sad to say, comes from very baggy jeans worn with way too much boxer (and not infrequently a little crack when he bends way over) showing.  It drives me nuts! 

I would have voted for Obama anyway, but he won me over completely when he said his message for the brothers of America was to “Pull up your pants!”  I even stooped so low during the election to tell my boy that since he couldn’t vote for Obama, the least he could do for him was cover his butt.  Honestly, I saw enough of it when he was a baby, and that was when it was cute. 

But even though I don’t like his choice of clothes, when I’m not so consumed with irritation, I realize that they offer him the security of the crowd.  I’ve seen this need in varying degrees with all my children.  I’ve also noticed that the more confident the child, the less the need for security clothing.  One son, who was born self assured, only briefly went through a stage in middle school of wanting to dress like everyone else.  In high school he often shopped at K-Mart and thrift stores by his choosing.  When I offered to buy him something at a more fashionable store, he said that it didn’t matter where the clothes were from–fashion came from the inside.  If you felt cool, you were cool.  Wise words, but not everyone, and very few teens, can pull it off. 

I know the flip flops and low slung jeans are part of trying to figure out who they are.  They make my kids feel secure and offer them invisibility in the crowd while they are in the process.  I look forward to the day when they don’t need these trappings to feel secure, but I don’t think there is anything I can do to speed it up.  In the meantime, I’ll periodically buy fresh flip flops and try really really hard not to aim for the wedgie when I yank up those ridiculous looking jeans.

Well, the internet is a good place to start.  The beauty of internet forums, chats, and message boards is that you never have to worry that you sound obsessive.  You probably do, but so do the rest of us, so we don’t care.  Besides, if you do happen to go on and on at length about this illusive baby you so crave (not that any of you have, but if someone else does), other forum members don’t have to read your posts.  But most will because they’ve BTDT (been there, done that) or ATFT (are there, feel that).  Be warned: forums have a personality and not all are uplifting places to spend your time, so be selective.  The last thing you need in your life right now is negativity.  You’re likely getting enough of that on your infertility or adoption journey.  Also be cautious of the rumors (especially on the adoption forums) which can build on the internet like a tornado on an Oklahoma prairie, and can cause just about as much damage to your psyche.  Get your information from reputable websites, but vent away your anxiety on the forums. There is a forum for just about every diagnosis, treatment, type of adoption and country.  If you are stuck, I’ve sprinkled my favorites liberally throughout the adoption and infertility resources and country charts on this website.

After you’ve drained some of the anxiety, then it’s time for a little inspiration.  This is where I’m really in my element. “Hi, my name is Dawn, and I’m a comfort junkie.”  Part of my personally designed recovery program is to spread the wealth, and I’ve found the Creating a Family website to be the perfect outlet.  I almost never really plug my site in this blog, but I really love the comfort part, so forgive me this one time.

I completely get that inspiration is personal and quirky, so I try to cover the waterfront.  I’m also real clear that what inspires the adoption journey is not likely to inspire the infertility journey, so I keep them separate.  And last, but certainly not least, there is a lot of carp (reverse the letters-I don’t allow my kids to use the other word, so my teenaged son came up with this substitute) out there.  That’s where my comfort addiction works to your advantage.  I’ve waded in knee deep and chose the best.  What works for me may not work for you, but one of these should do the trick.

Videos:
 Amongst the drivel on the Internet are some jewels. Check out my favorites under Adoption Videos and Infertility Videos. I seperate the adoption videos by country, type of adoption (foster care, domestic, international, embryo, and GLBTQ).  With the infertility videos, I include the inspirational or fun rather than educational.

Blogs:
 Adoption:  There are an unbelievable number of blogs now.  I can’t complain since you are currently reading one of them, but many don’t capture my interest.  I don’t even pretend that my list is complete, but when I read one that I think is particularly good, I add it to my blogroll.

 Infertility:  Ditto what I said about adoption blogs.  My favorite infertility blogs are on the blogroll of this page.  I also have a blog section under Infertility Resources for some others.

Books:  Now you’ve come to the best.   There is nothing I love more than to curl up with a great read.  For a book to inspire and entertain me, it has to have a happy ending .  I don’t require the perfect ending, and I relish a few bumps along the way as much as the next person, but I want it to end with the girl getting the guy, or in this case, the girl getting the child. I also like books that challenge me to think in a new way or about new topics.

 Adoption: I list inspirational/fun reads under Adoption/Suggested Books.

 Infertility:  I list inspirational/fun reads under Infertility/Suggested Books.

I hope these resources help to inspire you and help you keep on keeping on.  This journey to your child and the family you want may not be easy, but it can have a happy ending.

P.S. If you have your own favorite inspirational video, blog, forum, or book, please let me know via the contact page of this website. I’d love to help spread the word.  The world of infertility and adoption can use all the inspiration we can get.

My words came back to me the other day when I was stuck in another waiting room. I couldn’t find my favorite waiting room time killer—People Magazine, so was forced to read the standard women’s magazines. Maybe it was a fluke, but in two different magazines I saw my words: “_____ is the new _____”, only this time the word pairings were “forty-thirty”, “fifty-forty”. If I had continued to read, I’m sure I would have seen “sixty-fifty” and “seventy-sixty”. This morning I read that the 66, almost 67, year old UK woman that is expecting a baby via egg donor and IVF said that “physical age doesn’t matter; it’s how I feel inside.”

Of course, I want to believe that’s true. What self respecting middle aged woman (boy, I hate that term middle aged) wouldn’t want to cut ten years off her age? I want to believe that age is just a number? I routinely consult with singles and couples in their 40s and even 50s about the best way to start a family, and they want to believe the same. Most of them begin with the fact that they are in great health, they don’t look their age, they don’t feel their age, etc. But most of those past the age of 45 also wonder how old is too old to become a parent?

Many of my close high school friends had children in their early to mid-twenties. I started at 29 and continued throughout my thirties. To them, I was an old mom. They expressed concern about my lagging energy, being out of step with my children’s generation, and having little in common with the parents of my children’s friends. Among my law school and law firm friends, I was one of the first to have children. They thought I was pushing things a bit. From them I heard concerns about sabotaging my career and missed opportunities.

“Old” is definitely a malleable word, and assisted reproductive technology is seeing how far it can stretch. Just this morning the news was of a 66 year old British woman who will soon give birth. She’ll join a couple of other over 65 year olds that have given birth, and heaven help us, a 70 year old Indian woman gave birth to the male heir she (and her family) coveted in 2008. (The American and British women have to go abroad because most US and UK clinics have age restrictions. To find out more about the safety, affordability, and legal considerations of fertility tourism tune into this Wednesday’s, May 20, Creating a Family show.) But just because we can become a mother in our fifties, sixties and seventies, should we?

I heard an interview recently with a woman who had twins five years ago when she was 57. She kept saying how the children kept her young. It’s a cliché that kids keep you young, but like most clichés, it’s also true, or at least partly true. My children keep me connected to popular culture, music, games, and TV. Thanks to my children, Modest Mouse, Ben Folks, Panic at the Disco, and Jimmy Eat World play through my iPod while I run. Thanks to me, Bob Seger, Creedence Clearwater, and Jimmy Buffet occasionally play through theirs. My husband plays basketball daily with our kids, and we all play Four Square when the car isn’t parked over the court. Thanks to our family Wii tournaments, I can play a mean game of Wii tennis. (I must admit that despite my children’s best efforts I’ve never been able to learn the finer points of those stupid Mario Brothers, but I refuse to admit that age has anything to do with it.) Because of my kids and their friends, I don’t worry much about this next generation.

Older parents can bring a certain calm and wisdom to the parenting table. The more you’ve seen of life, the easier it is to keep things in perspective. Older parents often don’t have the same career pressures as younger parents, and they often have more money. Money isn’t the end all, be all of parenting, but it can make life easier and can free you up to spend time with your children.

But as much as I want to believe otherwise, feeling young is not the same as being young. Age is more than just a number. Our bodies have a finite time on this earth regardless how we look, feel or act. If you start in your 40s or 50s, your child will not have you around for as long as if you started in your 20s or 30s. You may not be here to guide your children through their 20s and 30s. You take a greater risk of not being there for them in their teens. You may not see the full spectrum of your children’s lives—college graduation, marriage, and children.

You will be dealing with your declining hormones at the same time you’re dealing with your child’s rising hormones. You increase the likelihood of having young children at home when the time demands of your aging parents hit. You may have the energy in your late 40s to handle a toddler, but will you have the energy in your late 50s to guide a teenager? And yes, when you start a family in your 40s or 50s, you will sometimes feel like the odd woman out. You won’t necessarily fit in with the other parents in your child’s circle, but you may also be out of step with your existing friends who have much older children.

Like most things in life, there are pros and cons to starting a family later in life. Check out the April 8 Creating a Family show “How Old is Too Old to Become a Parent.” Also look at the great books I review for older parents on the Adoption and Infertility Suggested Books page. Most older parents are able to acknowledge the negatives while still celebrating the positives.

With assisted reproductive technology, donor eggs, and fertility tourism, the door is wide open. Whether you should step through is another matter. The issues are clearer with the extreme cases such as the 66 year old that’s in this week’s news. She may be fulfilling her lifelong dream, but parenting is all about putting the needs of our children first. Is it fair to the child she conceived to have a mother in her 70s when the child is a toddler, and a mother in her 80s when the child is a teen. Is it fair to run the very real risk of orphaning her child? There is a lot more gray when the parents are in the late 40s or early 50s. I’ve certainly seen many devoted and good parents who started in their 40s. It’s also possible to adopt an older child to eliminate some of the disadvantages of older parenthood. Whatever you decide, make sure the decision is fair not only for you, but also for your future child.
P. S. Join me at the Creating a Family Facebook group.

Now the truth is, I’m a luxury type gal. I don’t necessarily have the money for it, but when I think of escapes, I think of luxury—good food, good wine, good book, hot water, and 300 thread-count sheets. Unfortunately for me, the group of friends I escape with think of backpacks, mountain trails, and canned food. And I willingly, even eagerly, sign up each year.

We hike about 7 miles up a mountain to sleep in double bunk beds under scratchy blankets in a rustic cabin with no electricity. Our food selection is equally Spartan, and it turns out that no one makes decent wine that comes in a carton. (Truly a missed business opportunity, if you ask me.)

But oh my, the sights we see along the way: tiny bluets peeking out of their tiny leafed cushions, bold white trilliums looking like they own the trail, masses of dainty wild violets, boulders covered with furry moss that begs you to stroke it to see if it feels as good as it looks, waterfalls of all sizes, stream beds masquerading as trails, and clean green vistas that make your head spin and heart sing. As spectacular as all that is, the best part for me is the talking and sharing and listening. We talk about our lives, the good and the not so good. We read poetry to each other. We laugh a lot. We recharge.

So each year I engage in that wonderful thing called amnesia. I forget about the sore shoulders, sitting on my butt to get down stairs for the following two days, and yucky food. I remember the vistas, the wildflowers, and the fresh smells. Mostly I remember the laughing, the talking, and the friendship. There is nothing like female friendship to sustain the soul.

There were a fair number of compassionate comments such as:

• As someone who was fortunate enough to have the kids she wanted, I feel I am not in a position to judge the ones who have to resort to the new scientific methods. … I think as long as things are done in a legal manner, we should try to hold judgment! Yay for science!! ~ Anothermom
• The desire to have children just like the desire to stay alive is a very strong biological and emotional drive. Just as we as a society continually strive for better healthcare and medical technology for one, so we will strive for the other. It is not so surprising. ~anne marie

But there were also quite a few comments like the following:

• To me the answer is quite simple. If you can’t have children the natural way, adopt. There are SOOOO many children already out there, just wanting to be loved. ~yip
• Why fight biology so hard? There are so many adults who want to be parents, there are so many children who want to be loved. It amazes me that more people don’t jump into adoption immediately like we did. ~Sarah
• Adopt. If you can’t love a child who isn’t perfect, or who isn’t a DNA carbon copy of you, maybe you shouldn’t be a parent. ~ACW
• While I cannot begin to understand how wrenching it must be for women who want to have babies but can’t, I’m also puzzled by why they go to such lengths to conceive when they could adopt. There are thousands upon thousands of babies in this country — and many others — waiting for a loving home. So why all the obsession with being pregnant and having your own baby? ~question
• What natalist myopia. I want to throw up. Maybe Marilyn Quayle was right. Maybe women really don’t want to liberated from their essential natures. ~ AAARGH

Oh my, where to begin? Indeed, why not just adopt? Well, first of all, while it may be true that there are “thousands upon thousands of children in this country — and many others — waiting for a loving home,” not all of them are available for adoption, and few of them are babies. If only adoption were so simple as merely deciding and picking. Most people who want to adopt will be able to, but it is far from easy or quick.

But more important than the general misunderstanding of the realities of adoption, these comments reflect a basic misunderstanding of infertility— and adoption. Adoption is not a cure for infertility. An adopted child is not a generic replacement for the longed for biological child.

Adoption is a “cure” for childlessness, and for some that’s an easy and logical next step. But for others it is not. They yearn to see their genes in the next generation; they crave being pregnant and breastfeeding; they want some degree of control over their child’s intrauterine environment and genetic makeup. For them, parenthood is more than simply parenting. They want to procreate. Is it really that hard to understand that they simply want what comes so easy for most of us?

As someone who chose adoption even though we were not infertile, I can more than attest to the fact that adoption is a great—no, really a phenomenal—way to create a family, but it is not for everyone. I don’t want it to be. That’s not fair to the infertile, and it is certainly not fair to the prospective adopted child.