Adoption for The Marucas

My husband and I have been married since 2007. We always knew we wanted a family...

In 2008, my nephew was born. He was the most precious little miracle I have ever seen. Even though he was not mine, I felt something in my heart longing for a child. So my husband and I decided on our journey to adulthood. 

It wasn't what I thought it would be. 

After six months of trying to conceive, I grew frustrated. "It shouldn't be this hard, In high school they never talked about this!" So I went to the doctor, and to my disbelief, they couldn't do anything until its been a year. "A year? How am I going to make it a year?"

Well a year passed...


I sought out the best gynecologist in the Olympia area. I was so nervous, but eager to find an answer. I even brought my mom with me to help calm my nerves. After 10 minutes, the doctor pretty much gave up on me. Saying something like, "Yeah, you are young, all your vitals are fine, just give it a little more time. " I was so sad. Where was my hope, where was my answer I was looking for? 

I then searched for an answer and then a glimmer of light came through the radio one day, stating over and over, "all of you wants a baby...Seattle Reproductive Medicine..." I teared up and thought, "Thank you, Lord. This is what I have been waiting for!"
The next day I made an appointment for an exam and I was ready to get the baby I have been waiting for. Its been over a year and I was growing weary. Little did I know, that this time was going to be the darkest period of my life. 

My first exam was in October 2009. I went in with my husband Aaron, and we waited very impatiently, smiles on our faces and hopeful hearts. We fidgeted in the waiting room, staring at the hallway door knowing they would call our name any minute. Finally our name was called and we practically jumped out of our seats, and to the nurse. She did everything a normal medical annual exam called for. Weight, height, temperature, blood pressure, then wait for the doctor. 

We waited, and the doctor came in. Asked how I was feeling, then escorted me to another room. This is where it gets really 
uncomfortable...

There was this metal chair in the middle of the room with no windows. It had cold metal leg holders, an ultrasound and very scary looking tools. I had to undress, and it was drafty, sterile, and had to wear this sheet thing with ribbon on the back. Sitting in the chair was extremely awkward and embarrassing.  I guess I was so nervous, I didn't even remember what I was doing there or what the doctor said was going to happen. I felt so vulnerable. 

I have never had a pelvic ultrasound before. Apparently that's why I was here. A long, cold tube up my vagina and moving around up there, then she had my look at the screen. As normal as I tried to be, I looked at this black screen, with white little holes all over the place and they were so small. Right there and then, the doctor said I had Poly cystic Ovaries. I had no idea what that meant. She could explain it a million times and I still wouldn't know what the extent of this would be. I didn't know if I should be excited, or sad or what. I just wanted to be with my husband. Its been like an hours since I have seen him. Where was he?

I got dressed, and was brought to another room, where they drew my blood and Aaron sat next to me and held my hand. I had no idea what just happened. 

We sat in the doctors personal office, and she prescribed me a medicine (Clomid) that would help regulate my period and give me a chance to have a baby. She told me to come back next month, when I have my period (day 3 - day 7 take Clomid), Day 5 go to the doctors to see how many eggs have dropped, day 10 try to conceive, and if you have your period again in a few weeks start the process all over. 

If you have ever tried to conceive, there is something called "Silent Grieving" Its a time when you start your period and you just break down in an uncontrollable, state just sobbing. Its like when you lose your first pet growing up. No one can console you, no one understands why you are so attached to something that can be replaced, or even worse why are you mourning over something you never had. 

This was a monthly thing for 18 months. I would grieve for about 3 days, then remember maybe there is hope this month. Maybe this month will be the month I can finally put my mind to rest, God will it be me this time? I would take the Clomid, put on my happy face and smile. I would drive an hour, go in to that sterile room, have an ultrasound, have my blood drawn, and be sent home, only to have to do it all over again. I felt like I was going insane. 

I was gaining weight, I tried running in 2010 to get the weight off. I lost most of it, and then I tried swimming, and reaching a goal of maybe running my first marathon. I ran my first 5k, then my first 10k, then my first half marathon with my dad. It helped keep my mind off of the pain that I was silently experiencing inside. 

In July 2010, I went back into Seattle Reproductive clinic. I was struggling to put faith in the doctors there. I voiced my opinions and demanded that I have an answer. I was so frustrated so irritated that I couldn't have what I wanted. And now my sister was pregnant again, I was even more on edge. The doctors wanted to prove they can make something work. They ran a series of test on both Aaron and I. 

One test in particular, I will never forget. It was a dark room, with a metal chair with leg rest and a overhead light (similar to a dentist office) and a metal tray with tools. 3 monitors overlook the chair and light. On the other end of the room there was a half wall with blue lights and more cabinets. The doctor injected blue dye into my tubes, wanting to check to see if I had blocked tubes. I laid there with the worse cramps I ever had in my life! Stomach cramps and back cramps. It was terrible, and I had to lie motionless for 20 minutes. They said to wear a pad on my underwear, because the blue dye will leak out. Time passed very slowly, and finally the doctor came in to deliver the bad news. I had one blocked tube and one partially blocked tube. The chances of my having a baby naturally were very dangerous. I just laid there, shocked and upset. "Why could they have done this a year earlier? Why did have have all this false hope stored up? Why me?" ...a few days later I found out it wasn't just me. 

Aaron had his testing done too. 

Male infertility. Why is this so taboo? Is it because it "might" hurt a mans image, his "manliness"? I just don't understand why the doctors can confront me and say, "Hey, this is going to be hard for you, but here are your options." But to my husband they say, "oh well, this round could of been the worse batch of your sperm. You probably can try again. There is nothing wrong. The next batch might be your best bet." hmmm....false hope again. Just call it as it is, people. That week, we just kind of walked around like a bunch of zombies around the house and went to work like nothing had happened. We were left with very few options, IVF, with a 20% success rate and $13,000 or just "deal with it". We never returned to fertility treatments after that day.  

A few months later, Novemeber 2011, my niece was born. My sister had named her after me. 

I really can't explain the feeling of wanting a child, resentment towards people who have children, and yet being overjoyed that I have another little one in the family. Baby showers were hard to attend to, I was always late and usually the first person to leave. Then friends started having babies, being pregnant and I was getting depressed. I was exhausted and trying to keep my head afloat seemed nearly impossible at times. 

Last summer we were at a party, and there were babies cooing, pregnant bellies in my face, and toddlers running around taunting me. I just left the house, and just sat in my car crying. I mourned a deep sorrowful cry, longing to have what they have. And then, I realized something,  it was like I got up, walked out of my car, into the house, wiped my tears away, took a shot of whiskey and I was fine. I played with the kids, talked with my friends, and moved on. I wasn't going to let this infertile body get in the way of important relationships and my happiness. 

That's when I decided to "move on". God has " plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future" Jeremiah 29:11. And in Isaiah 55:8, 

“For my thoughts are not your thought
neither are your ways my ways,”

declares the Lord.

9 

“As the heavens are higher than the earth,

    so are my ways higher than your ways

    and my thoughts than your thoughts.

I started think about these verses more and more. I thought, "Maybe we can have a family." It might not be the way that I want it, but it is His plan. He doesn't want to see me hurting, "He promises a hope, and a future". I believe Him, I have faith in Him. 

In September 2014, we decided to adopt. We started looking into what avenues we need to take, what classes were available, what our options were. In December 2014, we completed our adoption classes and now we are in February 2015, finishing the last of the paperwork for our homestudy.

We know we are just beginning this new stage. Please support us on our journey to finally get our baby. We have waited so long for her. Thank you for your time and effort to be here with us and join us as it is going to be all in God's timing. We are so happy that we are on a track where we can be open and honest about what we believe, what we are going through, and you can be there, right on the sidelines cheering us on. We thank you from the bottom of our hearts. 

-Emily Maruca and Aaron Maruca