Whatever He Gives Us

Every time we talk to our doctor about our new fertility plan, she warns us about the possibility of having multiples. Our response is always the same...we laugh and tell her we'll take whatever God gives us. But, lately I've been thinking about our answer. How true is it to say that we'll take whatever He gives us? Are we willing to accept not having another child? I know I'm supposed to say that I'm going to be okay even if His plan for us is more heartache and loss, but honestly, I can't say that. And I'm not sure how to handle that. In fact, if I'm being completely, brutally honest, I've found it hard to pray about our fertility journey. It's not that I don't have faith that God can do what He says He can do, or that He is crafting a perfect story for us. It's that I'm not sure what He wants us to do. I'm not sure if we're on the right path or if we're going rogue and He's waiting for us to turn back. Nothing feels easy and every decision seems daunting.
 
Most days I feel mechanical as I go through the motions and procedures for each day of my cycle, but it feels robotic...and so do my prayers. So many times I've prayed fervently and desperately about a pregnancy or a plan only to find it crashing around me while I sit devastated and broken...now it's like I've become numb to it all. Good news is accompanied more by fear and panic than joy and celebration these days and I know the underlying panic I have is leaking into my prayer life. I haven't stopped praying, I just know I'm not doing a very good job of it these days. And, as I head to another appointment tomorrow, I'm filled with panic and dread as we wait to see if we move on to the next stage of our plan or if we must start again. As always, we are so grateful and thankful for your prayers and support. Please pray for strength and courage and a good report tomorrow....and that we can handle whatever He gives us.

Blame it on the Hormones

This is a long overdue update, but, blame it on the hormones.

Our doctor is amazing. I asked her pretty bluntly if there was any hope for us. This roller coaster ride is so violent and earth shattering that, after a loss, we are always unsure about our next steps. Thankfully, our Dr. Dorsett expressed not only hope, but an aggressive plan of action. I won't bore you with the mega-scientific details, but just know that if I'm crying for no reason, it's because of the massive amounts of hormones being flushed into my system. Because of the new game plan, we do have a couple of pretty specific prayer requests. One, that there are no complications with the cycle next month. We need it to be pretty textbook and, as the doctor says, beautiful. Two, we need less than four eggs to mature. Any more than that and she would either abandon the cycle or move us to IVF and that's a (mega costly) road we're not ready to travel.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again, your prayers and support are what keep us going. Thank you isn't enough...but thank you just the same.

Nothing is Too Anything For Him

This week we have an appointment with our wonderful doctor to (hopefully) create a new plan of action for our journey. If you're praying for us, we ask for specific prayers for our doctor to develop a plan that will be beneficial and one we can fiscally handle.

My time in prayer has been largely focused on Matthew 14:22-33. This is where Jesus walks on water and Peter joins him until Peter realized the wind was raging around him and he became afraid. His fear caused him to sink as he cried out for the Lord to save him.

Y'all. I am so like Peter. I have been praying for strength to continue walking with Jesus in spite of my fears over our infertility journey. We are so unsure about our next steps and about how/when/if we'll have another baby. I know that instead of looking to Jesus, I get caught up in the storm of this season. Jesus said to Peter, "O you of little faith, why did you doubt?" and I know I have moments of little faith. I have days when it all seems too hard, too expensive, too impossible...and I forget that nothing is too anything for Him. Please continue to pray with me as we go through this week and navigate the new hurdles in our path. 

New Year

This is the post I've been trying to write for over a year.

This is the post I've avoided writing for over a year.

I have written and rewritten it  in the shower, at stoplights, and in line at the grocery store. But I never get it right...I can't seem to get it all put together the way I want. I don't want to seem weak, I don't want to struggle, I don't want to admit that I'm so terribly lost. I'm afraid for those around me to see what I'm feeling because I don't know how they'll respond. So...I've decided to quit trying for perfection and just write...here goes nothing.

Since February of 2014 I have had four positive pregnancy tests and four miscarriages. The latest occurred right before Thanksgiving this year and, in many ways, it was the most devastating.  My first loss was in March 2014 and I thought, along with my previous doctor, that this was just "one of those things." So, our next pregnancy seemed more hopeful...until it wasn't. In August 2014, a second pregnancy ended too early, but I felt encouraged because I switched doctors and I felt like we had a good game plan. Then the third loss in December 2014 ended with a referral to a specialist. Hallelujah! We thought we were finally on the right track. Surely NOW we had it all figured out. We began seeing our specialist in January but because of my PCOS, we faced hurdles every month and were only able to try to get pregnant three times in 2015. It finally worked in November...until it didn't. Our fourth loss has me reeling with devastation and fear and doubt. Unlike the losses before, I'm unable to find hope here. Instead, I'm questioning our path, questioning God, questioning myself.

What does this all mean? Why are we continually told no? We are emotionally, spiritually, and financially exhausted. The visits to the doctor (4 hours away), the shots, medication, mood swings...it all feels like a mountain that grows faster than we can hike. For me, this pressure bleeds into my everyday life. I know that friendships have suffered because some days it's all I can do to make it to lunch without crying. It's a constant struggle to keep a smile on my face when I'm worried about what's going to happen this cycle or if we should even keep trying. I know I suffer in silence because I won't allow others in, but I don't know how. The topic of miscarriage and infertility is so hard to identify with. I have so many friends that are walking this journey, but even our stories vary so much. It's just impossible to really understand the road someone is walking and I honestly don't have the energy to explain it most days...but today I'll try.

Every day I wake up and my first thought is "I'm broken." I am fundamentally flawed to the point that my body will not perform the most basic act it was designed to preform. Then, I spend the rest of my day throwing up prayers that vary from asking for help for a particular cycle issue to help in making it through my first class without crying. I obsess over blood test results and medical research. I dread looking at the calendar because every month holds an anniversary of some devastation or another. If  you see me and I look like a zombie, trust me...I feel like one, too.

Some days are better than others. Some days are hell. And, as I start 2016 I don't know how to feel. Last year, I remember looking ahead to 2015 and seeing such hope and excitement because I thought 2014 was pretty much rock bottom, but 2015 had its own share of challenges. I'm not sure where I go from here, but, because I think these stories of loss and the navigation of those losses are important, I want to share our story. I used to look at others who had suffered losses and think, "that's not as bad as my story," or "wow...her story makes mine seem like a cake walk." But, the truth is, all of our stories are painful and gut wrenching and devastating and eventually beautiful. I think, though, that often they're not told because we fear judgement for our raw emotions or we think it's not appropriate to discuss this type of pain. My resolution this year is to share our journey and whatever it may hold because we aren't the only ones suffering and there is comfort in sharing our pain with others.

Buckle up...it's going to be a bumpy ride.

Brokenhearted or Just Broken?

"Life is full of lines that you don't know you've crossed until you're on the other side. And once you're there, you need to discover who you're going to be." Just One Thing, Holly Jacobs


I've been trying to decide what I am lately. Am I brokenhearted, or just broken? I really can't decide. I'm not sure how to classify how or what I'm feeling right now.

And, before I go any further, I feel like I need to say this...I realize that putting this pain on display isn't comfortable. For me, or for you. I don't know if this is the southern way to deal with pain, but it's the only way I know how. When I can't speak it, I can write it. And, undoubtedly, many of you have noticed that I'm struggling. And I hate it. I hate that it's hard for me, and I hate that you can see that. My daddy always said I had a lousy poker face...he's not wrong often.

So, here it is. I don't want to be defined by just one thing. I don't want my frustration and my anger to consume me. I don't want it to be evident. I don't want to be mad at God. I don't want to question the things I question. But I do. I am.

Because, you know what? Two pink lines don't always mean you get a baby. In fact, for me, two pink lines just brings a whole lot of fear. But I still want to see them. It's a sweetly vicious torture to wait, and wait, and wait to see them. And a whole other kind of self-inflicted agony to finally see them and wonder what they mean. Will they bring pain again? Will there ever be a moment when I feel "safe?" It's an all consuming flood of emotions that never, ever ceases.

And jealousy sets in...why can't it just be easy for me? So many others seemingly have it so easy when it comes to those two pink lines. Why can't it be that way for me?

And, of course, anger sets in next. Same questions, just with a harsher tone.

I think mostly I feel betrayed. And I've avoided saying that word out loud because it's such an ugly, ugly word. But I do feel a strong sense of betrayal. Betrayal of my body, betrayal, in some sense, of my doctors, and my betrayal of my faith.

I've never been afraid to question my faith...questioning brings answers...but, lately, my questions don't have answers. And that leaves me with feelings of guilt and weakness and fear. I don't want to go all Nancy Kerrigan on y'all and ask "why me," but I do want to know what I did wrong. And before you say it, I know I couldn't have done anything differently...but I feel like there has to be an answer. A reason. Something I can fix next time. Anything...anything to give me a direction...to help me find a path...to let me have hope again.


So, I don't know if I'm brokenhearted or just broken. Most days, I think it's a whole lot of both. I've been listening to Danny Gokey sing "Tell Your Heart to Beat Again," on repeat just willing the words into my mind. I wake up with the lyrics in my head. It's a daily mantra...but, y'all,  I'm not there yet. And I'm sorry.
I'm still trying to figure out what I am.

Numb

Many years ago, I wrote a blog titled "Lather, Rinse, Repeat." This one could be titled the same.  

One week ago, we heard a heartbeat. A strong one. Yesterday, we heard nothing. 

I wish I could be as brave and strong and hopeful as I was in my last post, but I'm not. I'm actually kind of angry. Really angry. And scared. And discouraged. And defeated. And, mostly, numb. 

But despite the emotional roller coaster of fear and doubt, I cling to Isaiah 40:31, "But those who wait on The Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." This was one of my Grandma's favorite verses and when  I saw it on some guy's t shirt yesterday, I felt like she was there. And it gave me comfort, so I cling to that verse and the knowledge that she's rocking my babies until I can see them again. 

Back to God

I’ve lost my keys a few times. I’ve lost cell phones, phone numbers, and library books. I’ve even lost my mind once or twice. But I’ve never lost a baby.

I WOULDN’T lose a baby.

A baby is not a thing you toss on the counter when you walk in the door. A baby isn’t something you lose and forget about until you need it again. A baby isn’t something so easily misplaced or replaced. Because it’s a baby.

So, a week ago, when there was no longer a heartbeat where one was just twelve days earlier, the phrase “she lost the baby,” kept running through my head. I didn’t lose a baby. I wouldn’t have.

Not after years of trying to have another baby would I have lost it. Not after the elation and surprise we felt at becoming pregnant just weeks before we had a visit scheduled with a fertility specialist.

After all of that, no, I wouldn’t have lost a baby.

So, instead, I’ll say I just gave a baby back to God. A baby that, biologically, wasn’t able to survive in this world. And I get that, I really do. I get that there were things that didn’t line up the way there were supposed to and, for whatever reason, this baby wasn’t meant to be here. I understand that…but it still hurts.

I’ve yet to make it a full day without crying, but I hope a tearless day is on the horizon. I’ve laughed since it happened, I’ve teased my husband, I’ve played games, I’ve been “okay.” But sometimes I’m not. Because this was bigger than a death in my family…this was a death in me. A death of someone I never got to meet but loved fiercely. A death of dreams for someone I'll never get to hold.

And because of that death, I feel discouraged and upset and sad and hopeful and scared and crazy and determined and resentful. But I also feel determined to be faithful because, honestly, I’m not sure I could make it through each day if I didn’t have faith that God has this baby…and he has another one to give us.

We were called to follow a path of faithfulness, not a path of ease. So, today is hard, but not as hard as yesterday. And tonight, I can rest easily in the knowledge that I didn’t lose a baby, I just gave a baby back to God.

Every day is gone too quickly...

My students are practicing express and reflect writing. And, as usual, I don't make them do something I'm not willing to do myself...the following are the products of a quick-write session yesterday in class.

Washing dishes the other night, I was struck by a melody floating from the back of the house. Easton and his puppy, Charley, were playing some form of tag/tug on the rope/tackle football. Above the ruckus of a barking puppy, Hot Wheels cars being slung against the wall, and the quiet thud of a rope hitting the floor, I heard my favorite sound; sweet, melodic, full-bodied giggles from my precious baby boy. His laughter now is different from what it will become as he ages. When he enters junior high, and becomes concerned with the thoughts of pretty girls, his laughter will turn to a nervous chuckle. In high school, it will be heard loudest when someone farts. But for now, for today, I get to hear the innocence and supreme purity of his joy. He’s not laughing AT someone, he’s not finding humor at someone’s expense…no…he’s finding joy in the everyday. And every day is gone too quickly, so I must enjoy right now.



 

“Savior, tender, shepherd hear me. Bless your lambs tonight. In the darkness, be down near me, and keep me safe ‘till morning light. Amen.” Every night, from the time I can remember, my mom came into my room and tucked me in with this prayer. Her eyes were bright, her hands were soft, and her hugs were warm. After she’d left me to fall asleep in the glow of my red balloon lamp, all that lingered was the soft, tingling scent of the Carmex from where she kissed my forehead. As a child, I didn’t realize how much I needed her, or the smell of Carmex. My first night in a cold, not-broken-in-yet dorm made my heart ache for my sweet mother and our well-worn prayer. I think I fell asleep with an open jar of Carmex that night. I just needed her near me…

I'm a Bad Friend

I'm a terrible friend. I am guilty of becoming wrapped up in new stages in life and letting those who made me who I am drift away. There's no excuse and there's no good reason, just simply a promise to call or text tomorrow that turned into days and weeks and months and, in some cases, years. And at that point, it feels kind of silly to call or text and, because would I know what to say? Would they know what to say? Has too much time passed? Will they even recognize my number on the caller ID?
And, the truth is, I need those friends. I need to be reminded of the silly inside jokes from college, the tears shed in laughter and loneliness, and the comfort that comes from being with people who REALLY know you.
According to a segment I saw on The Today Show, I'm not alone. Apparently, after major events in life we tend to drift away from those who were closest to us. But it sucks. And once we've drifted, how do we drift back? Can we? Is it possible? Is it even an option? We're all in different stages of our lives...some of us are married...some of us have children...some of us are traveling the world, so how do we reconnect?
Usually in these blog posts I try to pose a question and wrestle with it until I think I've found a valid (or at least partially valid) answer. But I don't think I have one for this post. I don't have a blueprint for rekindling a friendship...because it's scary,  isn't it? Because there are real emotions involved...feelings of regret and nostalgia and fear of rejection and fear of failure...and fear that it'll happen again. So maybe my answer is that there is no answer. That if it means enough to either party, they'll pick up the phone and take that first step and, hopefully, the days and weeks and months that have passed will melt away and the comfort of an old friend will take it's place.

I've Finally Grown Up

Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience.

I haven't blogged in a while. A good. Long. While. In that time, we've moved twice, started two new jobs and had a baby. Tonight I was sitting here and my fingers started to itch. It's been so long since I've written that I was afraid I'd forogtten how. My students would disagree...they see the sacrifice my pen makes over their assignments daily. But it's not the same. Correcting fragments and misplaced modifiers isn't the same as sifting through my thoughts and stretching my mind. I've missed that.

Maybe part of the reason I stopped writing was because I felt that since I'm a wife and mother now I should conform to writing about wifely and motherly things. I'm not sure I like being put in a box. So I'm not going to. I'm going to write what feels good. What sounds good. What makes sense.

So, when I made the decision to start writing again, I wasn't sure what to say, or how to sort my thoughts. I started searching through my old blog notes and found this quote about patience. When I found the quote, I was struggling with infertility. I was struggling with what God's plan were for That Guy I Married and me. I was struggling with how to fix it all. I was just struggling. And I'm not a patient person. Just ask my mama. She always says that when I want something, I want it yesterday.

But since I found that quote, we've seen so many blessings, so many "God things," to not feel like we've been led here. And not just this town, or this house. But this place. Together. With this beautiful boy who is so happy and sweet and perfect that it almost hurts to look at him. My love for him is outrageous. God taught me to be patient in such a beautiful way. If I had gotten all the things I wanted exactly when I wanted them, my life would have lacked such beauty.

God gives us what we need when we need it. I know that now. I still sometimes want things done yesterday, but maybe I've gained some wisdom. Maybe now, even though I don't like to be patient, I see the purpose in waiting. I see the bigger plan.

So there it is. I've found my prince charming. I have the fairy tale. I've learned to wait. And I've finally grown up.

He fell, too.

A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.
-- Germaine Greer


I used this quote in our wedding guestbook. I thought it was sweet, and it went well with the photo I had chosen to use. In my blushing-bride-lovey-dovey-sugary-sweet innocence, I really didn't put much thought into what it meant. I should have. I'm an English teacher, and a woman, I'm required to over-analyze.

But now, after almost a year, I have a little more insight into Greer's words. When I married A, I knew his gentle spirit, his quiet nature, his loving nature and his grace, but since then I've fallen even more in love with his sweet humor, his generosity, his patience (especially his patience) and his devotion to me.

I have fallen in love every day, every hour since June 28, 2008...and I'm lucky he fell, too.

It Looked Better On Her

It seems that both too much and too little time has gone by.

I ache to hear her voice again...I am breathless with the thought of hugging her and feeling her soft white hair against my cheek...to feel her warm hands in mine...to hear her infectious laughter. The pain is still fresh, but the loneliness stretches on.

Today is the anniversary of the day she went away, and still I miss her. Those few days leading up to her death are so vivid in my mind. I was newly engaged and so upset that she wasn't going to be there to watch me walk down the aisle. And when I first saw her in the hospital, I was struck at how frail she seemed and how much she didn't look like my Grandma.

But her hands...her hands remained the same. They were still gnarled with age and each wrinkle told the story of a child consoled or a meal prepared. As I sat there alone with her, silently crying, I slipped off my engagement ring and placed it on her hand for just a moment.

I can't tell you the exact reasons behind my actions, except that I needed her to be connected to me...to my new life. I needed to have her touch something that would be so important to me in my future. I needed her to know that I was happy and in love...and that she had taught me well.

I've said it before, but I'm at peace with the fact that the woman who was so sick in the hospital is gone...but I may never be completely okay that Grandma is gone. I do know that the memory of my new engagement ring on her love-worn hands will stay with me forever... because, trust me, it looked better on her.