Roller coasters

When I was younger, roller coasters were always just fun, exhilarating items that I would dream about. Not really knowing if you would make it out alive (all the while knowing, of course, that you would). As "unpredictable" as we like to think of them, they all have a few things in common. Steep hills from which you cannot see where you're going, huge drops that cause your stomach to meet your brain, and more than adequately necessary safety equipment. 

As Tom and I progress through this road of adoption, I realize my life has become such an item. Only it feels as though the safety equipment has been removed. So many uphill battles, the applications, fingerprinting, and classes. This isn't even mentioning the largest to come of having a child in our home and learning to raise them to be great humans. So far, each hill has been followed by somewhat of a drop that seem to relieve the tension and unknowns of the hills, the first interview with the adoption agency, having our application approved, etc. 

And yet, I still feel like there is no safety harness. I wonder if we will make it out whole. I know in theory we will make it out as more than whole, with a child to call our own and the family we have been dreaming about. But there are people who haven't. What if we are one of those people? It is terrifying. Far more terrifying than any other coaster I've ever seen. 

Today, I got to have dinner with one of my best friends. We haven't had a chance to just sit together in a very long while and it was an amazing evening. She too is going through fertility issues and struggling to become a mom. Although, we differ in our methods. Tom and I chose adoption and she and her husband have chosen fertility treatments. I admire her. I could not deal with that road and all the emotional and physical pain that comes with it. At least with adoption there are a bit better odds of a positive outcome. Although both have very steep costs. 

We got to just sit and talk about how extremely difficult each process is and while very different, many of our emotions and experiences have felt the same. Like how difficult it is to watch someone who may not even want a child, get pregnant. She is better than I in that she can hold her feelings in and celebrate with those people. I am not nearly as strong and bawl at the mere thought! 

Which brings me back to my point. Will we make it out okay? Will we be the same? Or will we finish this as just some semblance of the people we once were? I know being a parent changes you. But I wonder how much change will come just from riding this roller coaster we are on. Will all the worrying and devastation it brings. I hope I end this as I dream. Happy, with a child for our own, and relatively well-recovered from the road it took to get there. But what if I don't? Who would I be? And finally, will I be glad we chose the road we did?