the most bittersweet day

Today is Mother's Day.

When we hear this phrase, every woman in the world immediately conjures up some image in their mind. For most, it is of their own mother and they are probably very happy memories.

There are also those who never knew their mother.
Those whose mother is no longer here on earth.
Adoptive parents who have a dichotomy of emotions while looking at their blessings.
Parents who have been paper pregnant for too long, or those with failed placements.
Women who have desired children for years and have not been able.
Grieving mothers who have lost children in pregnancy, infancy, or beyond.
Mother's of embryos still frozen and waiting for a chance at life.
Mother's of children who have walked far from the Lord.

Today, I feel more emotional than I have in a long time. I love my mom. I have written about her before. Though our relationship hasn't always been easy, it's always been there. I know I take her for granted a lot.

I am heartbroken for my dad. This is the first Mother's Day since his mom (my Tata) passed away. She was an absolutely incredible mother. She exemplified a mother's love in more facets than we realized until she was gone.

I am also grieving with and for my precious HP sisters. This day is so painful for the ladies that are still waiting. This day screams "not for you!" but for those who are "blessed." I know, I have been there for the last four years. Today was the first day I was able to go to church on Mother's Day in three years.

I am grieving for and with all of my friends who have miscarried or still births. It is so hard to know you are a mother, even though the world doesn't really recognize you as one because your child resides in Heaven and not on earth.

Especially heavy on my heart are the women who did have a living, breathing child who was taken from them after birth. I literally cannot fathom that type of pain.

I guess my point here is yes, Mother's Day is a day to celebrate. I don't want to take anything away from moms. God has definitely given mothers a difficult and mostly thankless job, so one day out of a year to honor what our mother's have sacrificed is not a bad thing. Most people don't even think about rubbing salt in wounds on this day because many times those wounds are well hidden.

Today is bittersweet. Today by the world's standards I am a mother (though baby girl has yet to make her grand entrance). Last year I was a mother by God's standards. For years before that my greatest desire was to become a mother.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well

  My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
    How vast is the sum of them!

Were I to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand —
    when I awake, I am still with you.

- Psalm 139 13-18 

(in)courage says it better than me.

what a year can bring

It's my birthday.

Last year on this day...

I turned 26, still nestled safely within the "mid-twenties" range.
27? that's late twenties no matter how you slice it ;)

I ate at my absolute favorite restaurant, The Village Grill. It's kind of a birthday tradition I started for myself.

I was still carrying Ellis, though not many knew. I went to the hospital on my birthday to have blood drawn. The nurse who did it cried when she saw what the day was for me. I was too numb to care. Three days later, I had the D&C and started the real grieving process.

The day before my birthday I was also at the hospital, this time to see my sweet friend Jenn's new baby girl.

The day after my birthday I celebrated my littlest nephew's first birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAYCE!!!)

Last year on my birthday I was the angriest I've ever been at God. I ashamed to say that I have been angry at the one who holds me in the palm of his hand, but I was nonetheless.

What the Lord can do in a year. The forgiveness of my sins, the cleansing of my spirit, the renewal of my faith time and time again. An unforgettable trip to Costa Rica. A peace about growing our family in whatever way he chose for us. A church that stood by us. Friends and family that loved us at our ugliest. A marriage that stood the test of loss, and came out stronger.

And of course, as I sit here typing with my gargantuan sized belly, the sweet blessing of a little girl soon to make her self known to this world.

"So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten..." - Joel 2:25

What a year can bring. Thank you, Lord.

i miss costa rica

It's been hitting me hard for a while now.

When we first started going to Costa Rica a few years ago, we didn't know just how much of our hearts it would steal and keep. When we had finally settled into the thought of never getting pregnant, we just assumed Costa Rica would continue to be a part of our lives. Even when we decided adoption was our path, we knew we'd be getting older children and they would be perfectly fine at the grandparents for a week while we were there. When we lost our first baby, Costa Rica was the balm to my heart that only God could have provided.

Not going to Costa Rica has never seemed like an option before. Like I have said so many times before, please don't take this like I am ungrateful for this pregnancy. However, overseas missions seemed like our future (we have seriously discussed becoming missionaries in a Central American country) or at least something that we would continue to pursue.

I know I'll go back one day. But today, when it is rainy in my town, I wish that rain was hitting my face on the mountain of Grano de Oro.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven" - Ecclesiastes 3:1

on slowing down

I knew it would be like this, I knew the moment when Eric and I found out whether or not our sweet baby was a boy or a girl would be game changer.

I have definitely struggled with this pregnancy, mentally more than anything else. Typing that outright sounds kind of terrible. Let me explain.

I wanted to be pregnant.
I still want to be pregnant.
I am overjoyed to be pregnant.

However, coming from the world of infertility and loss has been more difficult than I ever imagined.

I don't immediately identify with my other pregnant friends. I am joyful, but my joy comes from the Lord, not from the fact that I am pregnant. I am also thankful, same reasoning. You cannot just erase almost four years from your life like they never happened. God has grown and stretched me in ways I could have never imagined. I can look back and see times where God was molding me to look more like his Son. Painful times, but so very productive.

So yes, I have struggled to come to terms with many things during this pregnancy. It doesn't mean I am ungrateful at all, but in my humanness, my mind wanders.

Why now God? Why this timing?
I love this baby, but I loved my first baby too. I wouldn't be carrying this little girl if my first one wasn't sitting with you today.

Can you understand why this pregnancy has been such a mind battle for me? There are a lot of things that add to that battle as the pregnancy progresses; milestones that I did or did not reach with Ellis. The biggest one so far? Gender.

Which brings us back to the game changer. We found out our little one is indeed female, to which I was supremely surprised and Eric was ridiculously overjoyed! To say he was hoping for a girl is an understatement. Love that man of mine! But after our initial elation, reality set in. More than reality, pressure.

I don't like pressure. But there it was like a big black rain cloud hovering over our parade. No one had to put it there, it just appeared on it's own. Pressure to name. Pressure to tell the name. Pressure to decorate the nursery. Pressure to register for all things pink. Pressure, pressure, pressure.

Eric and I have decided not to give in to pressure. This may be the only full-term (God willing) pregnancy we ever get to experience. In an effort to fully realize the blessing we have been given, there are things we must do in order to protect our hearts and minds. A few of these things will make other people mad, I am aware of that. I also don't feel like I have to defend our decisions to anyone. We don't plan on announcing our baby girl's name to the general public. I don't plan on registering for a million and one things, nor do I plan to register any time soon.

Right now I am happy to just sit and enjoy the kicks that I know I'll miss feeling soon. (I'm 20 weeks!!!)
I am even ok with going maternity shopping...mostly because I love shopping and it's getting to be a necessity!
I've started a tiny bit of nursery dreaming, mostly to appease my very excited mom who is generously making the bedding for her first granddaughter. 
I am just not sold on the over-hyped commercialization of pregnancy (or babies and children for that matter, kids just aren't as burdening or expensive as the world makes them out to be).

I think most women want pregnancy to go fast so they can get straight to mothering. I'm just not of that same mindset. And that isn't stemming from me having a superawesomeIcouldbepregnantfortherestofmylife pregnancy, it's just the realization that it is so easy to take gifts from God for granted...even gifts we have wanted begged for for years.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." - Psalm 46:10

what a year can bring

I am stealing this idea from my friend Gaby and giving her credit because I told her I would! :)

2011 in Review
January marked the one year anniversary of starting the adoption process. We were discouraged, and yet had so much hope for that route. God had different things in my mind, we just didn't know it yet.

February is the month that took me to Honduras, Eric to Costa Rica, and renewed my passion for mission work. I wrote about it a lot. It's also the month we conceived for the first time in our 4.5 year marriage.

March is the month I came home from Honduras. It's the month that we learned of our conception and felt God's presence in our lives in a new and different way. God also taught me a lot about anxiety this month.

April was a slow month in blog land for me, but not in my personal life. I did post a little about infertility.

May was a big month. I turned 26 and was incredibly depressed. I had to say goodbye to my first child. God taught me a very important lesson on the body of Christ.

June was the month my sweet husband turned 28. God blessed me immensely and unexpectedly with another mission trip to Costa Rica, a balm to my broken and confused heart.

July brought our FIVE year anniversary! It also brought our decision to stop pursuing foster-to-adopt.

August was the month that God taught me a lot about identity. We conceived our second child, unbeknownst to us. I also got this spiffy new blog ;)

In September I guest posted on Held, and we learned of the sweet baby growing inside me. 

In October I had a lot of blog problems and switched back to blogger! Love blogger. We also announced our pregnancy to you and the world ;) I also had to say good-bye to my grandmother.

November came with highs and lows. I told you the name we chose for our first baby on her estimated due date. I also entered into my second trimester with the baby girl I now carry.

December brought the excitement and anticipation of finding out the sex of our sweet baby. We celebrated the best birthday in the world, JESUS'!

What did 2011 have for you? I have to say, this year was a roller coaster of emotions that surpasses the others by a landslide. But we have SEEN God work, we have tasted his goodness and experienced pieces of His magnificent plan. We wouldn't trade 2011 - heartaches and joys - for anything.

ellis

Today is the day Eric and I were supposed to meet our baby. Instead of heading to the hospital and going through labor and delivery and ending up with a snuggly little bundle in our arms, we are sitting in our living room, arms empty.

We named our baby, though I have never shared here before. Though we never found out the sex, we both had a sense she was a girl.

Ellis - "my God is the Lord"

Ellis gave us so much. I had thought conception an impossibility, Ellis proved that wrong. I had a deep desire to become a mother, and Ellis made me one. She brought a lot of joy to us in the short time that I carried her. 

I can't write any more through the tears. I miss our baby. My heart still hurts from what we lost.

But my God is the LORD.
He is my strength and my Redeemer, my very present help.
He is close to the brokenhearted.
He is our Sustainer.
My God is the LORD.

We love you, Ellis.

the awkward silence

While in the midst of infertility, there are a few questions you dread someone asking. Conversations start normally and innocently enough, and then they always end the same.

"So how long have you been married?"
Five years of bliss.

"Oh wow! Do you have any children?"
Not yet. Yes, but he/she is in heaven.

"What do you do?"
I am a math tutor for high school students at Bright and Beautiful Learning Center.

"Why don't you work full time?"
God has put it on mine and my husband's heart for me to work part time right now. Why don't you mind your own and stop giving me that judgmental look?

Awkward silence. Subject change.

It may seem like the worst question for infertile me is the one about children. It's not. I know that one is coming, and even though I feel a strong desire to answer yes to that question sometimes, I know the path of least resistance is a simple "not yet." I'm not technically lying, since I know that in their mind they are really asking the question "Do you have any living children?" even if they don't realize it. No one asks the question expecting me to tell them of my heaven-born baby. So I give them an out before they even know they need it.

No, the hard question is the last one. It's the one I don't often expect coupled with a look of "why would this childless woman only work part time?" As if the only two categories for married women are full time work or full time stay at home mom. My inbetweenness throws them off.

I feel the need to answer the mental questions I can see them asking me in that awkward silence.

Yes, originally I stopped working full time with every intention of becoming a mother. No, two years after quitting my teaching job that still hasn't happened. Also, no, I don't feel like we heard wrongly from God. I fully believe that what I have been doing for the past two years has been exactly God's plan for my life. I could list all the ways my husband and I have been blessed by it. I could list all the opportunities I have had because of my part time status. Just as easily, I could list all the ways people have tried to take advantage of it, or scorned it.

The point is, my identity has nothing to do with people. It has nothing to do with my job, full time or not. It has nothing to do with whether I have seven children or none. My identity is in Christ Jesus. My self-worth comes from the love and forgiveness I have received from Him. My purpose in life is to glorify God in all I do (or don't do, if that is the case.)

So whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.- 1 Corinthians 10:31

It's so easy to judge someone you have just met. It's even easy to judge someone you have been acquainted with for years, but haven't known. It's not easy to judge when you learn the heart of a person. I'm not saying I have this concept down, I don't. But in the many (painful) lessons the Lord has taught me on this infertility journey, this is one I will cherish most.

But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” - 1 Samuel 16:7

before and after

I had started to realize that I viewed my life in two parts: before we lost our child, and after we lost our child.

Everything in my world was shaken to the core. My ability to make decisions had gone out the window. I didn't trust anything I said or did to be a part of God's plan for me.

You see, before our loss I was sure.
I was sure about adoption.
I was sure about a sibling group.
I was sure about going through foster care.
I was sure about being ok with not being pregnant, or having a biological child.
I was sure.

After our loss I was uncertain.
I was uncertain that I wanted to adopt.
I was uncertain that I wanted a sibling group.
I was uncertain about going through foster care.
I was uncertain if I ever wanted to become pregnant again, or have a biological child.

Before and after.

The truth is, my life is partitioned into two parts. I was just wrong about the event in which my life was divided.


If you want to read the rest, please go over to Held where I am guest posting today.

divided

Lately I have started to realize that I view my life in two parts: before we lost our child, and after we lost our child.

Everything in my world was shaken to the core. My ability to make decisions has gone out the window. I don't trust anything I say or do to be a part of God's plan for me.

You see, before our loss I was sure.
I was sure about adoption.
I was sure about a sibling group.
I was sure about going through foster care.
I was sure about being ok with not being pregnant, or having a biological child.
I was sure.

After our loss I have been uncertain.
I am uncertain that I want to adopt.
I am uncertain that I want a sibling group.
I am uncertain about going through foster care.
I am uncertain if I want to ever be pregnant again, or have a biological child.

Before and after.

I know that I am still grieving. And grief doesn't care about my capacity to make decisions and trust them. Grief doesn't set boundaries in time. Maybe my thoughts are irrational cast in the midst of this grief and pain. It doesn't make them any less my thoughts, does it? It doesn't change the fact that right now, in this moment, it's how I feel.

The truth is, my life is partitioned into two parts. I am just wrong about the event in which my life was divided.

My life should be split into before Christ, and after Christ.

I need to remember where I was before Jesus. I need daily reminders of what God saved me from: a life of misery and unhappiness and constant approval of others.

Before Christ
I was uncertain of who I was.
I was uncertain of what life was supposed to be about.
I was uncertain of my purpose.

After Christ
I was sure of my identity in Christ Jesus.
I was sure about what my life should be about.
I was sure of my purpose.

My life needs to stop revolving around my grief and start revolving around my God again. That doesn't mean I won't be sad or upset or downright angry when I think about what we have lost, what our marriage has gone through. I am not trying to minimize my pain or the pain of anyone else who has lost a child. I am trying to cling to the God that I know holds my future in his hands. I am trying to center my life around Jesus and not around my circumstances.

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. - Jeremiah 29:11

We are selfish people by nature and I will fail at this goal on a daily basis, I know that going in. But God is bigger than my grief and my selfishness. He wants nothing more than to be the only thing I need, the only thing I desire.

“God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” - John Piper

attacking womanhood

Please read this post at Held by my dear friend Thelma from Life as Two.

Thelma puts into words what most of us suffering from infertility can not. It attacks our womanhood, the very core of what it means to be female. If making babies is what separates women from men, where does that leave the women who can't?

the body of christ

Just as a body, though one, has many parts, but all its many parts form one body, so it is with Christ. For we were all baptized by one Spirit so as to form one body—whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free—and we were all given the one Spirit to drink.  Even so the body is not made up of one part but of many.  - 1 Corinthians 12:12-14

But God has put the body together, giving greater honor to the parts that lacked it, so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other. If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it. Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.  And God has placed in the church first of all apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then miracles, then gifts of healing, of helping, of guidance, and of different kinds of tongues. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles? Do all have gifts of healing? Do all speak in tongues? Do all interpret?  Now eagerly desire the greater gifts. - 1 Corinthians 12:18-31

Jesus.
He knows my pain.
He knows my hurt.
He knows my longing.
He knows my desire.

He loves me, unconditionally. (Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love. - 1 John 4:8)

He is my rock, my salvation. (My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken. - Psalm 62:1-2)

He intercedes for me. (Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. - Romans 8:34)

He died so that I might have life. (The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.- John 10:10)

Which is why he isn't here on earth today.
It's why he can't physically hug me and tell me that everything will be ok. 

It's also why during our time of grief, he has sent people into our lives that have done above and beyond what friends should do. I know what the body of Christ should look like now. I know how it should function. I know because I have experienced it, day in and day out since we found out our little one wouldn't make it.

I now know that the body of Christ is just that, brothers and sisters who become the hands and feet of Jesus. They have become the arms that hold us tight, so that we don't fall apart.

My friends and family have lifted us in prayer. They have sent cards. They have sent flowers. They have been a shoulder to cry on. They have allowed us to vent our anger and air out our grief. They have not judged us. They have not offered platitudes. They have wept with us. They have assured us our feelings are normal. They have promised not to let go of us.

They have been Jesus to us, in our greatest time of need.

I can not thank these friends and family enough. I feel terrible for not having more of myself to give right now. I know it is biblical to bear one another's burdens, but I am so used to being the strong one, the encourager. It's hard and humbling to allow others to come along side us like this, but I wouldn't trade one of them for the world. Whether these people are a two minute drive from us or one thousand miles away, each one has touched Eric and I. Each one has lifted us one foot closer to the top of the pit.

I never want anyone to experience the intense pain and loneliness that is loss, but it is my prayer that people understand the importance of the church. Church isn't a building with pews. Church is disciples of Jesus gathering together to worship the Creator and to do life together. Is that life always easy? No, of course not. But I believe that when life starts getting messy and ugly, the people who most understand what Christ did for them on the cross are the ones who are not going to walk away. They will stay and pray and get messy right along with their church family.

Most of the people in my life now know about our baby. The statement that I most often hear is "you are so strong to be handling this with such grace." I want to say, gently, no friend, I am not. I am not strong. I am very, very weak. The strength I have is what I draw from my Savior.

And He has said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness " Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ's sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong. - 2 Corinthians 12:9-10

when the rules are broken

Sometimes I forget that I started this blog as my own personal journal, a way to document mine and Eric's life and all the lovely little adventures along the way. I start writing to "captivate my audience" or "appease the masses" forgetting that the masses are a minimal 71 followers, many of whom are friends and family. Not that it's a bad thing to write this way, I rather enjoy it. It gives me focus.

Today I am not writing for my 71 loyal followers (even though I do love you guys) or the other family and friends that read posts via facebook or just have me bookmarked. Today I am writing for me. Today I have things that I need to say, that I need to get off my mind, and I am not going to censor my writing to be more blogger-friendly.

I guess you can consider that a warning for the things you are about to read. It was hard for me to write. It was harder knowing my husband needed to read it first. Pushing "publish post" was the hardest, though, knowing how many people it just might reach.

For the last three years the book of my life has been colored with many adjectives. The most dominant one being infertile. I have been careful not to let this word define me, although I admit sometimes it has. But after this long, the word infertility and I have come to an understanding...an agreement of sorts. We have a set of rules that we play by now: I can not get pregnant, and that's ok. God brought me to a place where I was honestly and truly comfortable with being the girl who can not get pregnant.

"'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the LORD. As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." - Isaiah 55:8-9

That meant I was able to rejoice with friends who announced their blessings.
I could go to the hospital and visit my friends who had just stepped into their new roles as Mom.
I could participate in and even throw baby showers, all the while quoting "rejoice with those who rejoice..." (Romans 12:15)
I could do life with minimal interruption from my adjective and adversary.

Then infertility threw me a curve ball, and broke the rules. You see, the definition of infertility is multi-faceted. According to Resolve:

"Infertility is defined as the inability to conceive or carry a pregnancy to term after 12 months of trying to conceive."

On March 16, 2011 I woke up and took my temperature as I did every morning (to track my cycles). It was unusually high. I knew I must be getting sick and I wanted to be able to take some medicine in order to function at work that day. Thanks to my lovely PCOS diagnosis, I never really knew where I was in my cycle so I had to bite the bullet and take a pregnancy test. The first one in over a year. I had long since discovered that a pregnancy test wasn't like school tests, I always passed those with flying colors. I got up, dug out an expired dollar store test, took it, and promptly went back to bed confident of the one line that would be showing up in a few minutes.

Except two lines showed up.

I started shaking and decided I needed to bring out the big guns - a digital test. So I took it and no sooner had I gone to the kitchen to pour my coffee did I see the word we had been longing to see for three years.

"pregnant."

I was pregnant. Me, the girl who had become completely complacent with never seeing that word. I fell on my face and cried out to God, thanking him over and over again for his grace and his mercy.

"Your love, O LORD, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies." - Psalm 26:5

You don't realize how much you want something until that thing becomes tangible again. I finally pulled myself together, called my doctors office and told them the news. The precious nurse cried on the phone with me  and offered me an appointment that day. I went, it was confirmed, it wasn't all a dream.

That evening I told my husband. My precious husband who had waited in heartache just as long as I had to become a father, it was the sweetest moment of my life to tell him he was one.

We told a few very close family members and friends, confident they would be praying for us and our baby. We decided to tell the world after the heartbeat was seen, which would be at 8 weeks. We lived two blissful weeks with the knowledge that God had blessed us with a pregnancy. We allowed ourselves to dream, a little.

Life as we knew it changed the day I called my doctor with the news that I had had some cramping a just a tiny bit of spotting. They wanted me to come in immediately. I was 6 weeks and 3 days. I was whisked into the ultrasound room, completely alone and unaware that anything but my baby would be on that screen.


After the longest two minutes of my life, I knew. I could tell by the nurse's expression and my doctor's resistance to saying anything that our baby was gone. On the screen was a beautifully formed gestational sac in exactly the right place...but it was empty.

Words were finally coming out of my doctors mouth about "...blighted ovum..." and "...beta doubling..." and "...could be too early..." but I knew. I had blood work done that day. And two days later it was repeated. And the day after that my doctor called to inform me that my beta had indeed doubled. In layman's terms - my hormones indicated everything was fine. The ultrasound was scheduled on Monday, exactly one week from the last one.

Monday comes, Eric is there this time, the ultrasound begins, our world collapses.

On the screen is an even larger, perfectly formed gestational sac, still void of our baby.

It's official. And now I have to learn how to live the multi-faceted definition of infertility. I am no longer the girl who couldn't get pregnant. I am the girl who couldn't get pregnant, miraculously did, and is now the mother of a heaven-born baby.


I don't know how to be that girl.

"The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away. Blessed be the name of the LORD."- Job 1:21b

(to be continued...)

mythbusters

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week and Resolve is campaigning hard this year with their "Mythbusters" blog challenge.

I thought about writing one.
I toyed with two or three of them that are close to my heart.
I even started one.

Then I started reading my friend's posts and was in awe of how they took a myth out in a dark alley and opened up a can on 'em. So I thought I would link up my friends and let you read for yourself. If you love me, or know anyone in your life that has struggled with infertility/loss, you will read through them. You will educate yourself so that you will not make someone feel even worse than they already do without even knowing it.

Thelma @ Life as Two
- writes about giving up hope

Rachel @ Portrait Rachel 
- writes about the dismissal of knowledge of infertility

Grace @ Small Copper Coins
- writes about the "cure" of having a biological child

Amy @ Blessed by Adoption and Birth
- writes about adoption being a means to a pregnancy

Kim @ Finding Sunshine
- writes about God not wanting us to be parents

i'm part of something awesome

I have a new button over there on the left. See it? The one that says Held?

GO CLICK ON IT!

Ok, sorry for the yelling, I may or may not be ridiculously excited about this. Go explore, have fun, follow us, like us on Facebook, and just get excited with me about this supercoolcan'twaittoseewhatelseisinstore blog!

he would

he would probably gloat when we found out she was a girl 

he would laugh and poke my belly when she kicked him for the first time

he would be drive entirely too fast to the hospital when it was time

he would be brave during labor and braver during delivery

he would hold her for the first time like she was the most breakable thing on the planet

he would love her fiercely

he would pretend to be grossed out the first time she peed on him

he would get up in the middle of the night just to see if she was ok

he would brag the day she could hold her head up on her own

he would be nervous and excited the first time she crawled...then walked...then ran

he would beam from ear to ear the first time she said "daddy"

he would love her unconditionally

he would pick her up and hold her tight every single time she cried

he would get defensive if someone else so much as looked at her cross-eyed

he would kiss her boo-boos

he would tuck her in at night and read stories

he would pray over her and with her and for her and about her

he would love her tenderly

he would worry about her

he would make sure she knew he would always be there

he would take all of her pain and fears away if he could

he would play with her for hours on end

he would teach her guitar one day

he would love her uncontrollably 

he would be a good dad...
and one day, God willing, he will get the chance.

the moments

First, welcome iclw!

If you met me in real life, I don't think you would see the same person that you have met on this blog. In fact I believe that is true for any blogger. You only reveal that which you choose to reveal in writing and yes, some of my personality comes out in my word usage, the over abundance of dashes, my run on sentences and use of quotations in totally ridiculous situations. (My English-loving friends are all nodding their heads now. They are adding to the list all of my grammatical mistakes and mishaps. I know who you are.)

I like my blog for that reason. I don't ever lie to you, but I have never revealed every aspect of me. I don't plan to either, some things are just for me and God and that is ok. You all know a whole lot more about our struggles with infertility that most of the people I meet in real life. It's not because I don't talk about it, I do. However, I don't want to be a burden on people. I don't want infertility to define me. I don't want that to be the first thing that people think when Heather pops into their head. "Oh Heather, that girl who can't get pregnant."

Um, no thanks.

So I come here and vent talk about it for a lot of reasons.

Because I can.
Because I don't feel judged.
Because if I am judged I don't know it/I brush it off.
Because I do want people to be aware of what infertility is and how they can help.
Because it is going to come out one way or another and I'd rather word vomit here than on some unsuspecting and innocent party in the real world.

There are many more. What I really want to talk about today is the moments. That's what I call them. They are awkward...for me and for others. They are uncomfortable. They come out of nowhere. They are random and come at the most inopportune times. They are fleeting, thank you Jesus.

...being checked out at Wal-Mart by a 12 months pregnant cashier
...holding my niece/nephew
...an announcement that was expected
...an announcement that wasn't expected
...an unmarried high school friend's baby bump album on facebook
...watching my husband holding a new little one
...watching my husband watch me hold a new little one

These are the moments that make me lose myself in a sea of grief. It doesn't usually last long and I have become a pro at not losing it in front of people (most of the time). I can usually make it home, crawl in bed and cry - hard - for just a few minutes.

99% of the time I am really ok with where we are on this whole pregnancy/becoming parents/adopting thing, but it's that 1% of the time that I am not ok that I turn here or to HP. It's not because my friends aren't supportive or don't love me or my husband just doesn't get it. It's because I don't want to be selfish. I don't want my life to be all about me, my sorrows, my troubles, my my my...

Please don't hear me say I don't go to God. He is the FIRST one I run to, cry out to, yell at, find comfort in and the list goes on. But God did not design us to be alone in this, he has given us relationships with people. The point of those relationships is to glorify him, first and foremost. I am not bringing glory to God by constantly burdening my friends with the parts of me they can never understand. And I don't just want to "put on a happy face" for them, I want to be real and honest about who I am and what I struggle with just like I want them to be with me. I don't lie when they ask me how I am doing, but sometimes it is best to not reveal everything I am thinking in that moment...kind of like how I treat this blog. I am going to mess this up but, I would much rather err on the side of too much giving in a relationship rather than too much taking.

"Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves" - Philippians 2:3

But I need places to go for my moments of weakness without making others feel bad about the joys in their own life. So I will continue to pour my heart out (at least the parts I want you to see) here and with my HP girls.

I don't like the moments because they are painful and uncomfortable, but they teach me dependence on the One who holds me close, a lesson I need to learn over and over again...

The righteous cry, and the LORD hears and delivers them out of all their troubles." - Psalm 34:17

 

one year

This is the day, the one I thought would never come.
The one I never imagined my little ticker would or could reach.
The one that makes me even sadder than the anniversary of Eric and I trying to conceive.

This day is the one that marks exactly one year since we started the ball rolling on our adoption.
One year of classes and paperwork.
One year and still no homestudy or inspections.

One year of waiting for my precious little child(ren) to come to their forever home.

If you have been reading my random thoughts and journey for any length of time you know that I am no good at waiting. I am especially no good at waiting when there is no definite end in sight.

We ask so so so many questions that have no answers, or answers that are not revealed to us yet...

Why is it taking so long?
When will our homestudy be set up? Approved?
What are our kids doing right now? Are they hungry? Cold? Abused?
We have waited for over two years for a pregnancy and have pretty much given that up in hopes of adoption...was that a bad decision? Did we not hear from you correctly on that Lord?
Did we jump ahead of Your plan?
Are we not in Your will?
Are we just trying to fulfill our selfish desire to become parents any way we can?

Hard questions. Ones I know I shouldn't even be asking. Of course we heard from God. We prayed for an entire month before making the decision to stop fertility treatments and start the adoption process. We know we are on the right track.

Then why do we keep watching from the sidelines while others get to go in for the big game? What string are we on the team that we have to wait this long? 3rd? 5th? Everyone knows they almost never get to play.

I have never sugar coated things for you all. I think you deserve to see a real person. As Christians we like to pretend that we "have it all together" when the exact opposite is true.

I don't have it all together. There are days when my grief over not being a mom yet is absolutely crippling...and I am not ashamed to admit that. Not to you, and most importantly not to God. My faith in Him is the ONLY thing that gets me through. And hear me when I say "gets me through"...what I really mean is the Holy Spirit drags me kicking and screaming out of what could very well be a deep well of depression with no way out.

God refuses to leave me like that.

No, He wants more for my life than that. I know I have more work to do for His kingdom and He is not through with me yet. Not by a long shot.

I guess what I am trying to say is that it is ok to question God. Heck, it is our very nature to question Him. I know He would much rather me be yelling and screaming at Him and begging "why" than refusing to communicate at all.

That is when things get scary. Eric and I can not do this thing on our own. We need the body of Christ (like this friend and this friend) to lift us up in prayer. We need our Lord and Saviour to be our everlasting hope of glory.

I will be a mom one day. I don't know if it will be in one more month or one more year. What I do know is one day I am going to look back on this time in my life and PRAISE GOD for everything that he has done! I don't understand it all now, but that is the beauty of trust: I don't have to.

"Now I rejoice in what I am suffering for you, and I fill up in my flesh what is still lacking in regard to Christ’s afflictions, for the sake of his body, which is the church. I have become its servant by the commission God gave me to present to you the word of God in its fullness— the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the Lord’s people. To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, which is Christ in you, the hope of glory. He is the one we proclaim, admonishing and teaching everyone with all wisdom, so that we may present everyone fully mature in Christ. To this end I strenuously contend with all the energy Christ so powerfully works in me." - Colossions 1:24-29

expectant mother

"There are those who say to us, "You're lucky...you didn't have morning sickness, stretch marks, and cravings," or "At least you only had to wait three months to get your baby, rather than nine months." If you are like me and are planning to or have adopted a baby, you know how comments like this can hurt.

I want to tell them, "I have had morning sickness and afternoon sickness and evening sickness. Every time I thought of the fact that my body cannot conceive or sustain a pregnancy, I am heartsick." And stretch marks? My hope and faith bear the marks of being stretched to places that can only be seen with the divine eye of God. I have been pulled, prodded, poked, and stretched far beyond what any human eye can see. My heart has felt each of those stretches or exercises of my faith while waiting for God to answer our prayers.

Then there are the cravings. We throw the word "craving" around a lot in our everyday conversations, but have you ever looked up the word? Merriam-Webster defines craving as: "an intense, urgent, or abnormal desire or longing." I may not crave watermelon, ice cream, and pickles, but I have been struck by a craving - an intense, urgent desire - for a child for many years. It has been a longing so great that, at times, it is suffocating, leaving me teary, breathless, and in terrible emotional pain. People are correct: We haven't been waiting for nine months. It has been almost five years. I would take a nine-month waiting period over a five-year one anytime.

I am an expectant mother. I am not pregnant."

- Becky Saunders
taken from Stepping Stones newsletter

empty arms

I may have posted this before, but God laid it on my heart to post it again. Please take the time to watch this video. I have said before that unless you have walked the infertility road, you do not truly know what it is like. This video does a good job of giving you a glimpse of that pain. It says at one point "we will resolve our infertility, we just don't know how." You guys all know that we are adopting, and though that is seen as a "resolution," the stamp of infertility on our hearts will never truly go away.

empty arms

memorial box monday - gaby

It's time to link up with Linny for another...

Click here to learn more about mbm

I have been posting a lot more than usual about our battle with infertility, but I have neglected to share with you guys one of the biggest ways God has shown up in my life.

Her name is Gaby.

I met Gaby 2 years ago, my first year teaching. It was her first year at the high school we both taught at. She taught Spanish and I taught Math. We were both high school teachers with dark skin and hair and that, to me, seemed to be the end of our similarities. Then one day Gaby and I were paired together on field trip for the seniors and we sat next to each other for the 10 minute bus ride it took for us to get to the college we were visiting.

I should mention that only a month before that I was diagnosed with PCOS and basically told that our year of trying to conceive without success made us an infertile couple.The only person I had confided in up to that point had been my husband. He hadn't started the grieving process like I had yet, so I basically felt like I was walking this road alone. (I do want to say he is very supportive now, men just take a little longer for things to hit home ;) )

So Gaby and I started to get to know each other on that bus. The usual things like where we were from (she is from Ecuador by the way, how cool is that?) and what our husbands did (her's is a pastor; so I immediately knew she was a Christian). We talked about our faith and I thought "God how great you are to have placed an awesome Christian woman and fellow teacher into my life."

Oh how little did I know of his awesomeness.

Slowly the conversation turned to more serious things. I learned that Gaby had two gorgeous and adopted children! Now, picture me, no longer naive about the ease of growing a family the old fashioned way learning that this new friend had no biological children. I needed to know more, and she was ready and willing to share. I spilled my guts about all that I was afraid of, and she listened like what I was saying mattered.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep" - Romans 12:15

Over the next few months Gaby unfolded her and her husband's 10+ years of marriage, infertility, failed IUIs, and adoption. She has taught me more than I can communicate about what the definition of a Christian, a woman, and mom are. She has seen me at my lowest while in the midst of fertility treatments and rejoiced with me over our decision to adopt! I can honestly say I don't know what I would have done without her.

God put my friend Gaby in my life at the time I needed her most, and I didn't even know it. I look back now at all the heartache we were experiencing and saw how Gaby hurt for us, because she had hurt the same way with her husband years before. I look back and see a woman of God who knew how to talk to and pray with a friend who was walking a similar path.

Most importantly, Gaby has shown me that an adoptive parent is no less a parent than those who have biological children. I have always had a heart for the orphan, but Gaby continually confirmed God's will for our lives concerning adoption. I can truly attest to the fact that there is a bond between her and her children that would rival most biological moms.

Oh how big and mighty and wonderful our God is. How he loves us! I am forever thankful to him for my dear friend Gaby. I love to look back on times where I couldn't see his plan, only to view the big picture months or years later with the most thankful heart.

So, in my virtual memorial box will go a cup from Starbucks (where we have a fair amount of our conversations) and a little school bus.

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken." - Ecclesiastes 4:9-12