More to do?

It's been 9 months since our last IVF and the end of a dream. 42 weeks actually. My due date would have been two weeks ago (no I didn't know that until I had google calculate it just now for this blog :)

So 9 months later, how am I doing? In all honesty, I'm much better than I ever thought I would be. There's a part of me that will always hurt but for right now, it's merely a dull ache. I can live with it.

I'm at a point now where I wonder how to use what I've been through to somehow help others. Sometimes I think of getting back on Facebook and posting something informative regarding infertility on a regular basis. I'm not ashamed of our situation and I want to raise awareness of what is a very silent tragedy that couples face.

But that only tells everyone who knows me that I can't have kids. Does that raise awareness or just isolate me?

I struggle with where to go from here. How can I be of use to God? How can I turn this experience into something positive? I've changed my perspective on a lot in my own life because of it so if that's the positive, then I accept it.

But if I can do more to further God's message with my journey, then I want to help. I just don't know how.

Closure

"The Lord Almighty has sworn this oath: It will all happen as I have planned. It will come about according to my purposes. 

I have a plan for the whole earth, for my mighty power reaches throughout the world.  

The Lord Almighty has spoken - who can change his plans? When his hand moves, who can stop him?"
-Isaiah 14:24, 26-27

After nearly 4 years of shots, copays, vaginal ultrasounds, blood draws, negative pregnancy tests, and monthly periods, my husband and I are officially done with our fertility journey. It was long by some standards and short by others, but for us, it was time. God took us on a journey that was unsuccessful in our eyes, but not in His. He had a purpose to fulfill by our journey and even if we don't ever know why, we have a peace knowing He planned it, ordained it, and purposed it.

We had one last IVF for our final two frozen embryos. My intention was to do it as early in the summer as possible because just in the off, off, OFF chance it was positive, I didn't want to have to deal with other teachers seeing me leave for appointments and what not.

As it turned out, God had other plans (how shocking!). The timing was such that I had to wait until my period came in July, which brought the 6 week IVF process right up to my inservice week of school. I found out that I was pregnant my first day back at school for inservice. How ironic, right? Nothing is coincidence with God.

I told very few people at school who needed to know (like the nurse and the secretary who would have to get me coverage) and continued to go to the fertility doctor to be monitored. By the 3rd visit in my 5th week, I knew in my heart things weren't right. The doctors and nurses were vague, or course, but after going through this enough, you begin to grow a sense about things.

It turned out to be similar to the last pregnancy - there was no baby and the sac was growing irregularly. The doctor sent me home from that visit with the same pills as last time, to force a miscarriage. I checked the calendar when I got home: 7 weeks, 3 days. The EXACT time in the last pregnancy I had to force a miscarriage. Nothing is a coincidence with God.

I had to have a more invasive procedure called a D&C (short for Dilation and Curettage), which basically gets rid of all the remaining pregnancy tissue in your uterus. It's painful and excruciating emotionally to endure. It was on the table during that procedure that I knew we were done with our journey. Since then, I've grieved, mourned, and found peace with everything we have gone through. I'm realistic enough to know that it will always be a part of me and I will most likely always feel a "sting", shall we say, when someone announces their pregnancy or birth or posts pictures, etc.

In the near 4 year journey He took us on, I not only know myself better, I know my Lord and Savior better than ever before. I have a better sense of His majesty. His Grace. His Love. His purposes. I would never have known any of what I know if we hadn't struggled with fertility.

I feel as though I should end with advice, but what advice do I give? The best that I can say is this: your fertility journey, whether you get pregnant the first time you try, you use fertility doctors or you never conceive, is just that: YOUR fertility journey. No one can take away from you the experiences and emotions that you went through during that journey. Comparing it to someone else is fruitless and will only leave you heartbroken. Plus, it is unfair to you and the person you are comparing to. You are on this journey for a reason and that reason is unique to you. Get the most you can from this because you can't control the outcome- the only part you can play is that of faithful servant and continual learner.

God bless.

Loud and clear

I'm a tangible person. I learn by seeing things right in front of me. I'm not auditory at all. I've known for awhile that I was going to struggle with the acceptance piece of our fertility journey coming to an end. The endless "what ifs" and "maybes" creep in and out of my consciousness.

But God knows what I need as much as I do, but He knows it better. He delivered me from my uncertainty and placed me on the solid ground of finality. It wasn't graceful or even that pretty, but He did it.

I had an appointment today for another hysteroscopy. It's a procedure where the doctor inserts a long scoped camera into your uterine cavity and makes sure there is no damage, scarring, etc. I've had one before, back in January 2013 so I was familiar with the process. I had to call ahead, though, because having had the procedure before I knew I was supposed to take pain medication an hour before hand but when scheudling it, the woman didn't tell me what to take or how much. The nurse said "one extra strength Tylenol or two ibuprofen." I chose 2 ibuprofen (400 mg total).

I was introduced to the doctor's assistant who would be performing the procedure by her saying to me "So you've given birth at least once, right? I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to find when I get in there."

Strike #1: insensitivity. Nothing I haven't run into before, but still stings, nonetheless.

Once I'm stripped from the waist down, and maneuvered into the best place for the assistant to see the goods, she inserted the speculum and then the camera where I would feel "a little cramping." Since having the procedure before, I knew what level of cramps to expect. This was not it. The doctor was summoned because I was apparently hyperventilating over the level of pain I was experiencing.

The doctor rushed in, told me to calm down, breathe, and explain how I was feeling. I told him that I was feeling extreme cramping. (Duh). He said, "don't you get cramps during your period?" and I responded by saying they were nothing like these.

Strike #2: rudeness. Assuming I get period cramps and assuming they would be this bad so I should know what to expect is just horrible, but I'm in pain here so I overlook it.

The next thing the doctor makes sure I need to keep in mind is that this procedure is "elective." If I can't handle it, they don't have to continue.

Strike #3: lying.  The procedure was not my idea. The procedure was ordered by the doctor. Had I known I had a choice, BELIEVE me I would have said NO THANKS. 

The doctor says he needs 20 seconds, that I need to lie still, and can I do that?

Strike #4: judgement. I'm lying on a table naked from the waste down in excruciating pain and being judged by 3 people. All of whom are staring at my lady bits. 

He finishes the procedure and hauls it out of there barely saying a word.

Strike #5: demoralization. His attitude throughout indicated exactly how he felt about me. He was irritated because he felt I was a waste of his time.

As the nurse helps me get comfortable while my body tries to calm down from being invaded, I mention that I wonder if it's because of the pain medication. I told the nurse what I was told to take and she said they normally tell people to take 800 mg of ibuprofen, not 400mg.

Strike #6: misinformation. Not only was I told incorrect information, because of this, I was made to look like a child who couldn't tolerate pain. 

It was like God was clobbering me with reality. As I drove home in tears, I reflected on what had just happened in the last 40 minutes. I was demoralized, chastised, lied to, and made to feel like a worthless, waste of time and space. Was this really how I wanted to spend my free time? Is having a biological child THAT important to me that I'm willing to put myself through all of this and lose part of my dignity and integrity?

The simple answer to those questions is no. At this point, it's like I'm trying to prove God wrong. Or trying to force something to happen that is clearly and obviously not going to. At least this way. God wants me to be done with the fertility doctors and treatments. We have to do one more because of moral reasons, but after that, I'm done.

I hear you God. Loud and clear.

God's Positioning Service

A story:

You plan a trip. You get all the basics you need: gas for the car, snacks for while you drive, and a new map. You know where you want to end up so what makes the most sense? Finding the easiest way to get there. You may look to avoid tolls (who wants to pay those?) You may know of construction that you want to avoid. Or maybe there are roads commonly flooded with cars that you know ways around.

Finally the day has arrived for you to start on your journey.  Highlighted map in hand, you get into the car. You adjust the thermostat and turn on your favorite radio station. Your eyes see something you forgot you were given for Christmas: a GPS. You reconsider your trip: you just spent weeks or months meticulously planning a trip to avoid certain places, see other ones, and get to your destination as fast as possible. You have the perfect journey planned...on a map. A GPS is more "all-knowing." It's hooked into satellites and has information that I don't. But here's the trick: it might take me down roads I wanted to avoid. I could try to override it as I go, but that's a hassle because let's be honest: once a GPS has it's 'mind' set on a set of roads, it's tough to change its mind.

You decide to ignore the GPS. You researched this trip thoroughly. There can't be anything you missed, because you are smart and on top of things. Besides, the GPS is just going to take you on roads you specifically wanted to avoid. You turn on the car and you are on your way.

The first part of your trip is exactly how you planned. There's hardly any traffic and you see the construction on a nearby road that you were able to get around. The trip so far is perfect.

But suddenly, there's an accident and traffic is at a stand still. Well shoot. You didn't account for this. You have to wait until the police come and traffic is funneled into one lane. You are set back about 30 minutes, but you tell yourself that it's not the end of the world. You can make up that time somewhere.

About an hour later, there's a new traffic pattern being created because of the shopping center being built. Shoot, you forgot about that. You can't keep going the way you originally planned. Luckily you know how to get back onto this road, but you'll just have to take several back roads and it will set you back about another 30 minutes.

You are about three-quarters of the way through your trip, which is now at least an hour behind schedule and the sky opens up. Rain comes down so hard you have to slow your speed by 50% and you can hardly see. You try to continue for about another 20 minutes but you don't get very far. You realize that since the entire sky is black and it's getting late, you probably need to stop for the night to be safe. You didn't plan for this. You didn't think you were going to have to stop somewhere, especially overnight. You aren't near anything and aren't familiar with the area. You are left with no choice: you have to turn on the GPS. The GPS boots up and you search for nearby hotels. Luckily, there is one not far and you make your way to the establishment.

You walk up to the front desk to check in and ask for a room. The clerk smiles and asks for all the necessary information. Trying to make small talk while getting everything ready the clerk asks where you were headed before the storm derailed your plans. You tell the clerk and the response is not what you expect.

"That place has been shut down for awhile. You can't go there anymore."

What? You planned your trip! You were thorough! You knew the best and fastest way to get there. You made the best decisions in the face of crisis along the way. You didn't flip anyone off on the road or curse or scream. Why didn't someone tell you this ahead of time?

You thank the clerk and go to your car to grab your belongings and head to your room. The card slides in and out of the lock, turning green to allow you entrance. You dump everything from the car on the bed and you see the GPS lying there. You're glad you didn't turn on the GPS because it would never have told you the place was shut down. There's no way the GPS could know that.

For fun, you give it a try. You type in the address and click go. It takes a few seconds but the GPS gives you directions to the address. Smugly, you smile thinking at least you were smarter than the GPS. Then you see a button on the GPS you never noticed. You can find a location by its name instead of the address. Your smile falters as you decide to try this option. You find the category of your destination and type in the name and click search. Several minutes pass as the hourglass sifts and spins. Eventually a message pops up:

"Location not found."

--------------------------------------------

So a storyteller and writer I am not, but there's a purpose to this story. It's my story. It's your story. It's everyone's story.

How often have we planned our lives, every detail, only to have nothing seem to work out. We get stopped and derailed but we press on. Until we are eventually told, sorry. It's not going to happen.

I often wonder were the first bumps in the road sings? Did I ignore things God was trying to tell me, trying to prevent me from arriving at my destination?

Possibly.

But here's what I've come to realize:

It. Doesn't. Matter.

If I ignored the signs God sent and he never meant for me to reach the destination, guess what? I'll never reach the destination! In that story, even if I had continued on that journey, never mentioning anything to the clerk about where I was going, I would have stayed the night, left and continued the journey. Eventually, I would have arrived at the address and found out for myself that I could not go in.

Now, I'm not trying to insinuate that GPS' are infallible, but hopefully you get my point. God knows better than we do because He has access to all kinds of information. Past, present AND future. Ignoring Him gets us nowhere and only wastes our time. If in my story, I had decided to consult the GPS the right way, I would have never started on the journey because I would have known not to waste my time. I realize that's not how it always go, but we can save ourselves a lot of heartache if we lean on God instead of trying to do it all by ourselves.

It's not me, it's Him

Friday was a horrible day. One of my students stole my cell phone. It wasn't confirmed until an app allowed me to watch it travel north on a major highway that night.

For those of you who haven't had this happen, I hope you never do. I felt violated. You don't realize how much a part of you this stupid little mini computer is until it's been taken from you. It has messages from my husband and friends that I treasure and can never replace. It has pictures of my dying dog that I had not saved and can never recover. It's an intimate glimpse into my life and someone else has it in their hands. I've never felt more violated and betrayed. Not by a stranger, but by someone who knows me.

I've run the gamut of emotions in the past 36 - 48 hours. Anger, sadness, despair, hopelessness. I've felt it all.

But woven in between the array of emotions, a quiet voice in my head whispers, "What will you say if you DO get it back and find out who took it? How will you respond?"

It's not a mocking voice; it's not an angry voice.

It's a voice that poses a calm, but bold challenge.

How will I respond?

I'll tell you my initial pictured response was one that most people would probably have had. I won't even describe it because it was from a place of desperation and anguish. But I've had nothing but time to reflect (since my time is not otherwise occupied with a distracting phone). And I quietly made a decision that didn't really feel like a decision, but a forgone conclusion.

If I'm given the opportunity to confront the student, I will not waste the opportunity with revenge, retaliation, or anger. I will not waste a second of the chance to share Christ with him/her.

I'm a sinner and have been forgiven by someone who gave His life to do it. My life is much more abundant because I know Him and have been forgiven by Him. If I am afforded the opportunity to talk with this student, I won't hesitate to show him/her Christ. What a waste of a rare, but special opportunity if I don't.

KNOW

What types of things do you know? Not think or assume or believe but know?

You know your name.

You know your address.

You know your birthday.

You know your social security number.

I could go on. There's a finite list of things that we know. And the things we know are facts. They are unchangeable. There is no arguing with it because it just....is.

I was singing to myself on the way home from work and a song I used to sing as a kid took on a whole new meaning. I used to listen to tapes growing up that put bible verses to song called GT and the Halo Express. These songs still live in my heart and I love that at any moment 20-25 years after hearing them, I STILL remember the songs.

Today, the verse I sang was Deuteronomy 7:9. It reads:

Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is a faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.

Something struck me as I sang (probably out of tune): We are called to "Know therefore that the Lord your God is God." Know. Know he is God. What does that mean? It doesn't say believe. It doesn't say trust. It says KNOW. Remember, our list from before? We know facts. Things that are unchangeable.

So what does it mean? 

This verse has been my favorite of all the GT verses since I was little. It's one of the first verses that pops into my head, probably a couple times a week. Sadly, it took me until now to really dissect its meaning. 

This isn't the only time "knowing" God is mentioned in the bible. Here are a few more:

• Jeremiah 9:23-34:  Thus says the Lord: “Let not the wise man boast in his wisdom, let not the mighty man boast in his might, let not the rich man boast in his riches, but let him who boasts boast in this, that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord who practices steadfast love, justice, and righteousness in the earth. For in these things I delight, declares the Lord.”
• Phillippians 3:10: I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death
• Exodus 29:46: They will know that I am the Lord their God, who brought them out of Egypt so that I might dwell among them. I am the Lord their God
• Psalm 46:10: Be still, and know that I am God.

Knowing God seems to be something that is important to him and our relationship with him. But do I? Do I really know God? I believe in him certainly. I trust him, most of the time. But know him? Sadly, I'm not sure. 

Google the phrase "God is" and you get 3,100,000,000 results. But, ironically, I'm not interested in an excel spreadsheet list of attributes. It's meaningless. They're just words. My question is do I KNOW him? Not can I list adjectives found in the bible.

Here are things I KNOW:

• Someone bigger than me is in control. I've seen and experienced too many "coincidences" in my 30 years to have them be just that.
• The world and all creation, including the human body, is amazing. Intricate, perfectly orchestrated to work together, and awe-inspiring. There is NO way things could have happened by accident and not on purpose by grand design.
• I'm a sinner living in a sinful, self-destructive world. 
• Forgiveness and love exist. I've experienced both.

I'm sure I could go on, but to be honest, does anything else matter? I can draw conclusions from those statements that lead me to a God who loves me so much he would give up the only child he has just to forgive me and keep me as his own. Somehow, that's something I can understand given my own circumstances.

"Now my heart's desire is to know you more  

To be found in you and known as yours 

To possess by faith what I could not earn 

All-surpassing gift of righteousness" 

- "Knowing You" by Passion

Open your eyes, Rachel: This is your life

I have an appointment on Tuesday with a fertility clinic closer to home than the one we've been going to. Since we have one more try left, we might as well give it a shot.

I drove to our fertility clinic for copies of our records. It was a pretty lengthy, hefty pile, but not overwhelming. So I did what I do best and organized it. Color coded tabs and all. Seriously. Don't judge me.

Since one of our issues is male factor, I marked all of the semen analyses my hub has had in 3 years and then organized the data in an excel spreadsheet so the consult doctor on Tuesday could see the data easier.

So I typed.

Then I printed.

Then I reread.

And it finally hit me.

This data that I've never seen put together was sitting in front of me in black and white and I couldn't deny it anymore. I couldn't pretend that maybe I misunderstood. What I've been too hardheaded to admit: we really have NO chance of conceiving naturally.

For years, I lived month after month thinking "maybe". But seeing this data, stripped away all pretense and made me face it: Rachel, this is your life.

It may not be what I thought it was going to be. The data clearly shows that it's going to stay that way. I can't change God's plan. And I shouldn't. At this point, I'm not sure I would. I just finally get it. Math and numbers don't lie.

Bloom where you're planted

You may not like the garden you were put in or even what color you were made to bloom, but you can't change them so bloom where you're planted. Bloom the best and the brightest while you're there as long as you're there.

PS
Thanks, Mom. Ly.

Polar Bear

Not every day can be a good day. Today was one of those days.

100 days ago, our church embarked on a challenge: pray for something only God can do. Make it personal, make it big, make it whatever you wanted. Just make it something only God could do so there was no question about where the answer came from.

Today marked the 100th day. So to see what God did in our lives, the service was devoted to sharing our stories. No sermon. Just sharing God's work in answering prayers.

That's when my tears started.

My prayer? For us to get pregnant. Obviously at this point, it's only God who will make this happen.

I sat and listened to testimony after testimony in tears. I had nothing to share. No answered prayer. No prayer of thanks. A whole lot of nothingness. And the tears fell faster. And harder.

Like I said, not every day can be a good day.

Have you ever been to the zoo? I have. Lots of times. I absolutely love it. I am a huge animal lover.  All kinds. Well, except the creepy crawlies. One of my favorites was the Polar Bear. He was big, playful, and loved to swim or just lay around. He seemed to have the perfect animal life.

Have you ever wondered how it would feel to be one of the animals, like the polar bear? Day in and day out you live in the same room. The scenery doesn't change much from fake south pole and a small pool. It's the same old stuff around you to interact with, like rubber balls and fake ice. Every once in awhile, there are people on the outside looking in and staring. You might feel self conscious. You might feel resentment that they're on the outside and you're not. You might just feel resigned. All you know is that you'll never be on the other side of the glass. You're on one side, the rest of the world is on the other.

That's me.

Day in and day out, my life stays the same. Same house, same job, same sadness. No change. I know there's this wall of glass that separates me from the rest of the world. There's something "wrong" with me that will never allow me to be on the other side with everyone else. Some days I'm self conscious. Some days I'm resentful because I know I'll never get there. Some days I'm resigned.

I'm the polar bear.

Inspiring

I teach 8th grade. It's... challenging to say the least. But there are moments and students that make you realize that there's a purpose. And that you're not only the teacher but the student.

This year, I have two students that have medical issues and are now being tutored at home for math because of them. They come to school on an abbreviated schedule and miss my class. These medical issues are rare and they are frustrating for the girls. They are prone to exhaustion, headaches, dizziness, and muscle weakness among MANY other things.

I don't have the medical condition they have, but I do know what it's like to have something physically ail you that you didn't ask for. To wonder why you have something to deal with that others don't. But these girls are inspiring.

They don't allow their condition to define them or limit them. They are conscientious and responsible. They are humble and kind. They refuse to give up. They push through their weaknesses to find greatness.

How humbling. How inspiring. It amazes me how two 14 year girls can inspire me and give me a different perspective on.... everything.

What's fair?

Is there such a thing as "fair" when it comes to God?

We had a major blow today - we found out our precious miniature dachshund has cancer. It hurts my heart to type it, but there it is. A lot of thoughts run through your mind when you get the diagnosis, but the one that keeps coming to the forefront is this:

With everything we've been through in the past 3 years, why this? And why now? Haven't we been through enough?

Phoebe has been with us since 2011, just 3 months before we started trying to have kids. The timing was odd - we didn't want a dog until after we had kids and a house with a yard. God had a different plan as we are still child-less and yard-less.

I cannot tell you what this dog has meant to us. She came to us at a time when we were at our most vulnerable. When we needed love and compassion. When we wanted to love something, but our arms were empty. She filled our lives and our hearts with love and excitement. We love her more and more each day.

Yes, I'm talking about a dog.

A dog who doesn't judge me when I'm having a bad day and just feel like crying. A dog who follows me and squishes herself next to me because she just wants to be near. A dog who turns on her back to expose her belly, trusting that my husband won't hurt her and will play with her until she's had enough. She gives me love with no reservation.  She gives me joy without even trying.

Losing her will be the most difficult thing we have to do.

So this begs the question: why?

Why now and not in a few more years?
Why didn't God save us the heartache and give her to us at all?
Why can't we just have her since He won't give us children?

There's not an answer to any of these questions. The standard answer is: "Because God said so."

But still, why put us through double the heartache if He knew we wouldn't have kids AT THE SAME TIME we have to watch our beloved pet decline in front of us?

The real question then becomes: would I have wanted Him to do that? Would I trade these 2.5 years with her because I knew how it was going to end?

The answer is a resounding NO. I would never trade a SECOND of this time with her.

Then shouldn't I say the same for the fertility?

God knew what He was doing when He gave us Phoebe at a time we didn't want a dog. He knew more than us, clearly, since we didn't want a dog, let along a small dog and an older dog.

So even though I don't get it and the timing sucks and it's just more heartache....shouldn't I trust that He knows more than us about the fertility? And layering heartache upon heartache?

The question from non-Christians is often about God not being a fair God. Is it fair that we are now dealing with an ailing dog upon our infertility? In a word?

YES.

Because this is not my world. This is not my place. Of course I wish things were different, but they aren't. I have no master plan sitting in front of me telling me what's going to happen.

But I have the Master in front of me.

And I'm required to trust Him.

And it's not easy.

The bridge of one of my favorite songs from college goes like this:

"And even though I've been so lonely
Like I have never been before
You never said it would be easy
But You said You'd see me through the storm."

I pray He sees me through this storm and the next.

Ignorance might really be bliss

It came to me while I was opening tuna.

I kid you not.

I was in the middle of making one of my favorite comfort foods. It's an easy, go -to recipe for macaroni and cheese with tuna fish mixed in.  A childhood favorite that I've never quite grown out of. 

After making the pasta and putting the cheese sauce on simmer, I grabbed the tuna can and the can opener. My brain did what it does best: lilypadded from thought to thought. 

(I should interject here by explaining that my brain isn't normal, at least I don't think so. Something I am doing or seeing sparks a thought or idea which causes another thought which leads to another and another, which eventually leads to something totally unrelated to the first thought. I have deemed this lilypadding. My brain ends up so far away from the original spark it isn't funny. But I digress....)

I put the can opener on the can of tuna and began to turn the dial. As I opened it, I started to wonder why tuna comes in the cans it does. I've only ever seen it in the flat cylinders. Never tall cylinders. Never plastic cups. Always flat cylinder cans.

This leads me to think about the fact that tuna is a fish, which leads to how they get tuna in the small cans, which leads me to picture the canning process with the real live animal. 


This thought makes me stop and I immediately thought "in this case, ignorance is totally bliss."

See, canning tuna is something I'd rather not know the details about. I'm better off not knowing how they can it, because I find it creepy. I have a weak stomach and an active imagination (shocking, I know).

I lilypadded one more time. After I realized I'd rather not know about canning tuna, it made me think about my life and how there are probably a lot more important things that I'm better off not knowing. 

It's funny. I've lived most of my life searching for answers. As a math teacher, I teach my students how to problem solve. How to analyze a problem from different angles, how to set up a plan to find an answer in numerous methods. I like to find answers. I like to fix things. I like to make life make sense. I like efficiency.

But maybe that's not healthy in every situation. Maybe it's not what I need. 

How many times have I asked myself why? Why did God allow me to have such a terrible high school experience? Why did He allow me to live through a hellacious year after college? Why did He allow me to befriend people who were unhealthy for me? Why did He allow us to be infertile? 

I've spent most of my life trying to figure it out. My life, that is. Asking why. ALL. THE. TIME. I've driven myself crazy, sad, etc trying to figure out God. Never did I take the perspective of maybe it's in my best interest to stay out of the know. 

You can't unsay something. 
You can't unsee something. 
You can't unknow something. 

Maybe God knows me better than I realize and is keeping me in the dark for my own good. If I knew the reasons behind why He has chosen this particular road for me, I might not be able to handle it. It might be a burden that's just too great for me to bear. David says:

"Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens." Psalm 68:19

I'm going to let it go. I'm going to stop searching for answers to why life is the way it is. I think it's safe to assume that in most of life's difficult situations, ignorance might really be bliss. 

Hi my name is Rachel

Some days I feel sad. Some days I feel confused. Some days I feel pissed. Some days I feel content.

Today I feel identified.

During the infertility process, it becomes VERY easy to immerse yourself in the process. You are fully consumed in the day to day, watching what you eat, the medication timings, the doctor appointments, taking notes during phone calls and meetings. It's a difficult journey, for sure, and if you aren't careful, you can lose yourself.

A lot of people go through identity crises. Who am I? What's my purpose? Et cetera. For people struggling with infertility, it feels like such a big and important part of your life, you begin to identify yourself with it. You hear "how are yous" and feel compelled to answer honestly about your heavy heart. Discussions regarding money inspire desires to tell people about how much infertility costs and how much they just don't know. Any conversation or situation can be spun to be analyzed through a infertile lens.

I'm tired of doing that to myself.

If there's anything I've learned in the past few weeks, it's that I'm a lot of things.



I'm a good teacher.

I love to dance.

I have a good sense of humor (or at least an 8th grade level humor).

I'm creative.

I'm a big baseball fan.

I'm a good baker.

I love to read.




I want to stop seeing life through this limited scope of infertility. No matter how that particular journey turns out, I will have SO many other journeys. Not one journey defines me.

I'm not infertile. I'm Rachel. THAT'S who I am. I need to start acting like it.

Sad, but not sad sad. You know?

Have you ever heard the phrase "when it rains it pours"?

That's my infertility in a nut shell.

Now this could be referring to many different parts of the infertility journey. But today? It's pouring pregnant people.

This is a pretty typical thing for infertile people though.  I'd hazard to say it's the same for single people who long to be married. When you don't have it, you see it EVERYWHERE.

I remember when I was single after college. I hung around with a group of single people at my church. We went out, hung out in various homes, watched movies. Heck, we even ended up spending an entire week together in the summer because of back to back to back plans. But a few months in, things started to change. There would be spurts of people getting together. Then getting engaged. It seemed like an epidemic. I couldn't believe my eyes, to be honest. It seemed like my church was a real life match.com.

It's the same when you don't have kids. Every once in awhile there is a spurt of finding out people are pregnant. Old friends from high school, coworkers, old coworkers, ex-friends, old acquaintances that you haven't thought about in years but are suddenly thrust into your line of sight when you find out they're expecting. I think the most pregnancies I found out about in one day was four. FOUR.

It's not fun.  Not their fault, but it's not fun either.

Thankfully, it makes me sad, but not sad sad. You know?

It's a bummer that I probably won't experience what most women do.
It's a bummer that I probably won't get a shower thrown for me.
It's a bummer that I probably won't get to pick out baby names.
It's a bummer that I probably won't ever hear someone call me "Mom."

Yes. It's sad. But not tears sad.  Not anymore.

I know that sounds crazy. Because all those things I listed (and didn't list for the sake of keeping my word count down) all seem excruciating. They seem unbearable. They seem depressing.

They are, but I've learned how to file the sadness. I've learned how to recognize and dampen the pain. It may sound bad, but I mean it as a positive thing. I don't feel the hopelessness anymore as pain. I feel it as just what it is - realistic about my circumstances.

In other words: I feel acceptance.

The 5 Stages of Grief

Grief. It's what most infertile couples struggle with. They grieve the child they conceived and lost. They grieve the children they don't conceive each month. It's a very sad process for couples to go through.

A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about my feelings changing and finding peace. That hasn't changed. In fact, it hit me that the process I've gone through is quite normal. And has a name. The five stages of grief.

Stage 1: Denial. For about the two years, I was convinced it would happen for us. Even though time and statistics were against us, I had optimism coming out my eyeballs. Or rather, denial. I refused to believe we would be one of those couples who never had kids. We always wanted them! Why would God allow us to want something to special and precious only to never give us that joy? Ridiculous.  The Truth: God doesn't work like this. He does what is best for his flock and bringing glory to HIS name.

Stage 2: Anger. Throughout the process, anger is a normal emotion. Why us? Why of all the couples in the whole wide world, were we picked to endure countless ultrasounds, bloodwork, and thousands of dollars worth of bills? We tried to be good Christians. We didn't hurt anyone. We go to church. We think we'd make good parents. Why would God do this to us?! This stage I think is ongoing and cyclical. It's difficult to not let the anger take over because it is so self-centered. The Truth: Anger is ok as long as it subsides and you bring it before the Lord. Holding this in and allowing it to take root is toxic. God isn't doing this to us. He's doing it for us.

Stage 3: Bargaining. Infertile couples are often so hopeless that they feel like they will do anything to get children. Even if it means bargaining with God. I can recall many tearful prayers that involved words similar to "God, what do you want me to do?? Whatever it is, just show me and I'll do it!"  The Truth: This is dangerously close to testing God and that's just wrong. God wants us to be willing to do anything for him, but not just because we want something from him.

Stage 4: Depression. This is almost a state of being for infertile couples. For a long stretch of time, I was more often than not depressed. It might not have been overt or even clinical, but it was always there lurking beneath the surface. "What's the point in going on with these treatments?? We'll never have kids. Obviously, we aren't meant to be parents so just forget it."  The Truth: I know depression is tough and it is imperative we rest upon the arms of Jesus. It's so easy to drown in the hopeless thoughts, but even finding 5 minutes of joy in your Savior can save you days of self-inflicted torture in depression.

Stage 5: Acceptance. This is the stage I reached about a month ago. I'm not sad, mad, or anything really. The best word for it is resigned. I know that my fate is in my Lord's hands and I've seen that life continues with or without the things we ask for. We are here on this Earth temporarily and they will eventually fall away. It's time to start living the life I've been given instead mourning the one I may never get. The Truth: It's much easier to let the sadness and anger take over. It's self-centered and what sin created us to be when we're born. The Holy Spirit grants us peace. We need only to ask for it and be brave enough to grab it.

The grass is NEVER greener

I heard a story today. The kind that usually makes me sad. And cry. And throw a pathetic pity party.

But I didn't.

Here's why:

I learned today that my maid of honor, with whom I had a falling out soon after the wedding, is pregnant. She has not been married as long as I have and married someone that more than a few people told her was a bad idea.

The part that gave me pause was that this wasn't the end of the story.

Apparently around the beginning of her pregnancy, her husband lost his job. So she has to go right back to work shortly after she has the baby (which was not part of her plan, knowing her).  Losing the job led to them losing their house because it was tied to the job. Her and her husband were forced to move in with his parents.

So sure she's pregnant, but now her two income family is down to one, they are homeless, and her plans of being a stay at home mom have gone up in smoke.

I'll admit - when I heard the first part about her pregnancy, I braced myself to feel the tsunami of sadness. I didn't feel it. The rest of the story could have made me feel smug. I didn't feel that either.

Here's what I felt:

Humility.

This story hit me between the eyes. I saw myself in it. Yes, I realize she's pregnant and I'm not, but if you dig just a little deeper, God reveals just a glimpse of himself if you dare to look closely enough.

In both our stories, we are setting out with our own goals and plans. Marry the person of our choice, work until you have kids, have said kids, stay home with them, raise them, and live happily ever after.  Or some close iteration of those plans.

While we both may have started with the same plan and ended up with different stories, we still have one common message   This life isn't ours. This world isn't ours. Our best intentions and plans are laughable. They're pointless. God took both our plans and turned them inside out and has used them to teach us lessons. The lessons belong to each of us and our own journeys. But we both are being shown by God that HE is in control. HE has the plans. HE is the one who matters and what HE wants.

I am tremendously grateful I found out about this old friend and her circumstances. I now see my situation differently. I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't think the "grass is greener" on the other side of my neighbors fence. I now see that my journey is just that. My journey. Her journey is her journey. Your journey is your journey. No matter what situation we find ourselves in, we are ALL in situations. Sinners is what we all are and we all need the blood of Christ to save us.

My perspective has completely changed.

Like I said. This story hit me between the eyes. And I couldn't be more grateful.

Does time really heal ALL wounds?

It's been a few days since the "news" of not being pregnant. Again. (I use quotation marks on news because I had already decided I wasn't pregnant the week before hearing the official word).

I'm a pensive person by nature and am constantly taking stock of my emotional and mental state. Since it's been a few days, I assessed and thought about life and where I am. I was suddenly struck by the phrase "time heals all wounds." But does it really?

There are so many times throughout my life I've heard these words. Or some iteration of the phrase.

"Things can only get better."

"Give it time."

"You'll get through this."

Even using the Bible against me with "In His time, He makes all things beautiful."

So my question is, how long do we have to wait? A day? A week? A year? 10 years? Is there a set amount of time that I must give in penance before I see the bright side?

Up until recently, those questions would have been laced with despair, dripping with sarcasm, and soaked in bitterness.  Until recently.

I don't know if something clicked inside my head or my desires subsided or I simply accepted my fate. But something shifted in my heart during this last procedure. I want to say it was because of the result, but if I'm honest, I think it's been shifting for awhile.

Don't get me wrong - I want children. I've always wanted children. But at some point, I just kept thinking and asking if all the heartache was worth it to me. Eventually, the answer quietly became no.

If God decides some day to make us parents, we will gladly welcome it. There are many joys in parenting that we only hear about and can't understand unless we are one.

But I'm slowly realizing (and accepting) that this is probably my new reality. And while I think time will make it a little easier to lead a childless life, I don't think it will ever heal completely. And to me, it's a scar that will remind me of my capacity and desire to love.

When is enough enough?

Note:  This entry is my thoughts, feelings, and heart bare for all to read. I left off my filter with this one. I apologize in advance if what I said offends or upsets you. These feelings and thoughts are my own.


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Negative.

"I'm sorry to tell you."

"That's too bad."

"That sucks."

"What a shame."

"Hang in there."


Another month, another failed procedure. I got the call while I was at work. I had figured it was negative for a few days before the official blood test and the message only confirmed my suspicions. Unlike every other month, I didn't get sad. I didn't cry. I got mad.  Pissed, actually. If asked, I'm not really sure I could have told you who I was mad at. Myself for getting my hopes up? The fertility clinic for constantly telling me how "great" everything looks only to end up in sadness? God because He's really the only one who controls my fertility? Maybe all of the above. Believe me, I'm not proud of my anger.

Shockingly, I held it together at work. No crying, no irritability. Life went on. It's tough to get a read on my personality from a blog, but I'm a emotional sleeve wearer. I hide my emotions about as well as Miley Cyrus hides her... anything.

So to come out of this phone call showing and feeling little was miraculous. Little did I know, it was coming.

On the way home, it finally hit me like a wave. A tsunami actually. Started talking to God in the car (because where else do you feel like you have his rapt attention). Eventually I started pouring out my heart and crying out between gulps that I didn't know how much longer I could continue on this journey. And quite honestly, I meant it.

A question my husband and I have to ponder is when is enough enough? At what point do you and your spouse determine that your fertility journey is over?

Is it when you run out of money?

Is it when your body looks like a purple pin cushion?

Is it when a doctor tells you to stop?

Is it when your marriage begins to struggle?

Is it when you lose friends because they're sick and tired of that being ALL you have to talk about?

Is it when your uterus finally raises the menopausal white flag and says, "Dude, you've put me through enough. I'm not even going to give you any option anymore. I'm out"?

I think every woman and every couple is different and has a different journey. I would never tell someone what they needed to do. Right now, I feel like I'm about done. We have frozen embryos from this last round and after those are done, so am I. There are a lot of reasons I'm coming to that decision, but here are a few:

1. There are no guarantees. Even IF we got pregnant and had child(ren), there is NO guarantee that life with them would be smooth sailing. There could be physical deformities, mental challenges, accidents that ends lives, cancer, SIDS, sickle cell, and so much more. On the flip side, there are no guarantees that we will ever be able to conceive, with or without assistance.
2. Having children isn't like waving a magic happiness wand.  It wouldn't make life that much more bearable. It wouldn't instantly cause all sorts of peace and contentedness. I'm not saying it's not rewarding to be a parent. But in all reality, there are downsides and living in a land of idealistic notions about the perfection of parenthood is foolish.
3. I'm not 100% convinced that if I had children I'd "figure it out." I've always voiced my concerns about what I would be like as a parent. I had two terrific role models in the parent department. Yes, they made mistakes, but I really couldn't have asked for a better picture of what I'd want to shoot for. In fact, my mom is a large part of why I wanted to be a mom. I was looking for that relationship with a daughter or son of my own. But I'm not convinced I would be able to "figure it out" like so many parents swear to me they do once they became parents. Part of me is sure I would mess up a kid because well... I just would.
4. My body is a temple. Ok, that sounds stupid, but biblically it's really true! We only have one body and God granted us the use of it. I can't in good conscious continue to wreck havoc with my reproductive parts when the chances of reaping the rewards are slimmer each day.
5. My mind/heart is a temple. Again, this sounds stupid, but this whole fertility journey assassinates your emotional state. There are too many days to count that I feel like I'm breaking on the inside and can physically feel it in my heart. I've been told that this is God refining me, but let me tell you - it hurts like hell. I can't keep continuing on this ride where I think that I've eventually get back to the station, having gotten what I wanted out of the ride, only to be told I have to keep on riding and there's no telling when I'll get off. No, thank you.
6. My marriage is sacred. My husband is the single most important person in my life. I in NO way want to jeopardize what we have together and this journey tests it at every turn. We have to agree when to start, what procedures do we feel comfortable with, what costs we feel comfortable with, when do we stop, etc. While this process has made our marriage stronger in some respects, it WILL at some point begin to wear and tear. Like the bible says, if the left hand is sinning, cut it off. A hypothetical possibility of a child is not worth risking my marriage.

These are just a few of many. Honestly, there is some relief in deciding that there's an end in sight. It doesn't make me happy, per se, to decide to stop pursuing children. But what I do have is peace. My life won't revolve around doctor's appointments, blood work, twice daily injections, number of follicles, shots in the butt, 24 hour bed rest, full bladders, timed intercourse, or copays. I can have my life back.

There is a part of this decision that I'm not looking forward to. I don't want to have to go into the explanations. Family and friends who know our situation will be hard enough. Talking to my sister-in-laws and explaining that if/when they get pregnant, could they tell my mother-in-law instead of me because I'll have a hard time hearing they got pregnant. Telling my parents and in-laws we will never make them grandparents.  Telling my friends that those years they prayed and listened to me cry and complain were for naught. All of that will be devastating.  However, explaining to anyone I meet in the future who asks about whether or not we want kids will be a killer. No, it's not anyone's business. No, I don't owe them an explanation. But the question hurts merely because it's a reminder. Almost like a taunt. I'm sure with time the question will hurt less, but it's still never going to go away. We won't be childless by choice.

Of course this then lends itself to the question, "Wait! You don't have to be childless; you can adopt!" Yes, I'm aware of that option's existence thankyouverymuch. Choosing to adopt is a MONUMENTAL decision that I would never in a million years take lightly. To be frank, I'm not sure my heart is there. And I would never even consider it unless my heart was 100% committed. That isn't fair to me, my husband, or the child. My hope is that people don't judge me for my heart's status on the adoption subject. I would never hold it against someone who didn't want biological children of their own. It's a personal decision and I encourage every partnership of marriage to decide what's best for THEM. Not the masses. Never do something that you and your spouse are fully committed to, spiritually, emotionally, and financially.

Have I come to a final decision? I almost think so. I'm 30 years old. I've spent the better part of the past 3 years committing my life to trying to conceive a baby. Now I want to live my life with my husband and enjoy it. If God gives us a miracle child naturally, wonderful. But I no longer will live my life making a maybe possibility the main focus of my life. I deserve better. God deserves better.

Assumptions

Life's twists and turns never cease to surprise me. I'm not sure why 30 years into life, I haven't come to realize how unpredictable life truly is.

Not much has happened or change since my last post. Fertility wise, I healed "beautifully" (doctor's words, not mine) from the miscarriage and if we want, it's safe to try again.  That discussion between my husband and I is a difficult one. I'll get to that in a bit. That actually wasn't the surprising part. I was informed of a position in another school district that was open and applied for it. It is the best school district in the county and has a terrific reputation. I got called for an interview and I felt it went well. Suddenly, I'm thrown into a confusing situation. I had pictured my life going one direction (not having kids and working at my current school district forever) when all of a sudden there's another option. Now I can't see anything because I have no idea where any of this will go.

Just as quickly as the opportunity came up, it was gone just as quickly. Turns out, I must not have been what they were looking for since I didn't get a call for a second interview. Seems odd doesn't it? Why would God plant this wonderful opportunity into my lap only to have it taken away a week later?

The important things in my life have pretty much fallen into my lap (or so it seems to me) so that I knew that's what God wanted me to do. College, husband, jobs, even our real estate agent. I know that sounds silly, but since I constantly second guess myself, I figure that's God's way of showing me that THIS is the path to choose because HE chose it, not me. So I assumed (you know what assuming does...) that this job was meant for me since it came out of nowhere. Clearly I was wrong. However, the only important thing in my life that hasn't just fallen in my lap is children.

All my life I made assumptions about how my adult life would be and part of that was having kids. This is the first thing I've really had to work for. And word HARD for. That's what makes this journey difficult for my husband and I. Selfishly, I probably would have given up a year ago. If not a year ago, then 2 months ago with the miscarriage. But that's the thing about marriage - you aren't in it alone and must make decisions with another person who may very well disagree with you.

It would be easy to guilt my husband with thoughts about what my body has been through trying to get pregnant. I would be easy to allow my emotions to bleed through and overwhelm him with my sadness to sway him. It would even be easy to convince him with all the things that we have said we want to do if we don't have kids. But I won't do it. I can't. I'm fully in this marriage which means I need to think about the both of us, not just myself. My husband is a kind man. He is loyal, responsible, and just a rock steady person. He deserves children of his own. I see him with our dog and he loves her unconditionally that I can see how a child would be lucky to have him as a father.

So we press on in the fertility journey. I no longer am doing this just for me. I am now doing it for us.  even if we never have kids, it makes the world of difference to me who I was doing it for.

Advice for Non-Infertiles Part 2

One of the difficult parts of the infertility journey is knowing how to deal with friends and family who do not understand what we are going through.

My most recent situation involved a co-worker of mine. She and I had been friends since I started working there 5 years before. She has known of our struggles, but has had difficulty relating since she got pregnant with her first child on her first try the year before we began ourselves.

I had been pulling away from her while the IVF process was going on and I did that for several reasons. First, the IVF process is extremely personal and I did not want to share that with a lot of people. I told 2 people who needed to know so they could help me through the logistics when I was not at work. Second, this co-worker has had immense trouble relating to my situation and knowing what to say. I understood that. Especially when she made comments like "I know this is going to happen for you. You'll have kids. I know it." Not being a Christian, she doesn't have the same perspective I have on things not being in our control, but in God's. So I thought it would just be easier for both of us if I left her out of it until I had something definitive to fill her in on.

Unfortunately, the day I had my miscarriage, she heard that I went home and she was extremely upset that she didn't know what was going on with me. Someone eventually told her what happened because she was apparently "freaking out." Red flag number 1.

I decided enough was enough and had a conversation with her. Let me pause here by saying that relationships are tough with infertile and non-infertile people. For the non-infertile, they don't know what to say. They don't want to offend or insult, but they don't want to come across like they don't care. They are constantly walking on eggshells, not knowing what to say or do. Infertile people don't have it much easier. They don't know what people truly want to hear. When someone says "How are you?", they know the phrase is generic and not necessarily an opening. However, the truthful answer to that question is heavy. It's sad and overwhelming. If they answer the question truthfully, they may be bombarding the friend with more than they really want to know. If they don't answer truthfully, then a little piece of their heart breaks as they know deep down they are lying about something that is the most important thing in their lives right at that moment. Infertiles never want people to pity them, but they want sensitivity and understanding. Both walk an enormously thin line when in a relationship.

That being said, I decided it was time to talk to this co-worker who was upset by my backing away during my difficult time. I will spare you the details, but it didn't go well. The conversation, which I assumed would simply consist of "I miss you" type statements from her, was actually all about her and how she felt about my lack of communication with her. There was no remorse or sadness over what I had just been through. There was no offerings of what she could do. It was all about how I've made her feel by not informing her of every detail of my life. Unfortunately, the relationship needed to end right then and there.

Please understand: infertile people do not WANT to be selfish. In fact, we wish we didn't have to be! I hate with every fiber of my being the fact that being infertile and having pregnancy struggles consumes my day, every day. I hate it. But I can't change it. It's the hand God dealt me and I'm not about to smite God. However, that being said, we HAVE to be selfish. It's not only our personal dreams and desires on the line, it's our minds, hearts, and most importantly our bodies! If I didn't have to see the fertility doctor once a week, I wouldn't. If I didn't have to inject myself with hormones, I wouldn't. If I didn't have to force a miscarriage on myself, I wouldn't. We have no choice but to see the journey through until either a child is conceived or the door is shut permanently.

The worst thing a non-infertile person could do is make the situation about themselves. The journey of an infertile person is extremely personal and private. Each man and woman deals with the intricacies in various ways. Would YOU want everyone knowing when you ovulate? Would YOU want everyone knowing when you had to spread your legs to get eggs taken from your body? It's literally a day to day process for us. It's about daily survival. So please. If nothing else, don't add to the negativity that your infertile friend is currently dealing with. Making them feel guilty for not attending to YOUR needs when they are dealing with the most devastating thing in their life makes YOU selfish, not them. We want you in our lives, but not at that cost. We are already being asked to give up so much. Our right to privacy is one of the only things we have left. Please leave us that much. It's not about you.

Lost With No Direction

In a matter of days, life can flip and turn upside down.

We finally moved forward with IVF in April. Things went well, though we didn't get as many eggs as I heard women normally get. We scheduled a pregnancy test with the doctor's office exactly two weeks from the transfer. On a Saturday morning, 3 days before the pregnancy test, at 5 am I went to the bathroom and while half asleep, I took a pregnancy test. I turned my head to eye the shower and when I turned back, I saw the best word I've ever seen. "Pregnant." My hand flew over my mouth in stunned surprise. Do I wake my husband? Do I wait until he sees it for himself?

He ended up seeing the test when he woke up and didn't want to believe it to be true until the blood test confirmed it the following Tuesday. Not only did the blood test confirm it, but I reconfirmed it in the bathroom of Wal-mart the same morning of my results.

We lived on cloud 9 for the next few weeks. Though we were hesitant to get ahead of ourselves, it was difficult because this is a step we had never reached before.

When you get pregnant naturally, you go to the doctor after you miss your period and get checked for HCG levels every few weeks or months. When you are using a fertility doctor, the level of monitoring is microscopic. I was in the doctor's office as often as twice a week. Typically, HCG levels (called beta levels) are expected to not only increase each time, but doctor's like to see them double every 2 to 3 days. That doesn't necessarily mean they have to but that's what is typical. My first beta was "perfect" at 306.  6 days later, It was only 692. The nurse told me that wasn't good news. 3 days later, it "jumped" to 1852. Sigh of relief! Soon, they stopped telling me my betas and simply showing me the ultrasounds. About the 3rd week of getting checked, we were supposed to hear the heartbeat for the first time. Husband came with me and the ultrasound tech said she saw the gestational sac and not an embryo. We met the doctor braced for bad news, but hoping for good. He said "this is 100% not going to be a viable pregnancy."  It turned out to be something called a blighted ovum. Basically, everything grew normally except the baby. No baby developed. From my (online) research, it seems as though most of the 1st trimester miscarriages are blighted ovums, so it's pretty common.

I was devastated. Heart broken. I doctor gave me medication that I needed to take to force a miscarriage. I was shocked. I couldn't believe I had not only been pregnant just 24 hours ago, but I was about to NOT be pregnant anymore. I was about to have an expensive miscarriage.

I was 7 weeks 3 days pregnant when I miscarried.

I still haven't fully wrapped my head around it. We don't know where we go from here. It feels like we've exhausted all our options and should pack it in. Though I know we weren't guaranteed it working the first time and still COULD do it again. We don't know how to reconcile how we feel and what God wants us to do. We don't have some sort of letter from God telling us whether or not to keep going. We only know that our desire is for kids. It always has been. And at this point in time, we aren't in a place to pursue adoption.

It's difficult to know what to do. It takes an immense amount of faith that I often don't feel as though I have. It brings new meaning to the bible verse "lean not on your own understanding."

Typically, I quote a Christian song, but these particular lyrics have been stuck in my head for a few days.

I can almost see it.
That dream I'm dreaming, but
There's a voice inside my head saying
You'll never reach itEvery step I'm takin'
Every move I makeFeels lost with no direction,
My faith is shakin'But I, 
I gotta keep tryin'
Gotta keep my head held high

Advice for Non-Infertiles Part 1

I often come across situations where I think "if only the realized what they are saying..." when it comes to people who aren't dealing with infertility. I recognize that it's awkward for everyone involved, trying to figure out how to handle a sensitive subject.  Perhaps it would be helpful to offer a little advice for those not directly dealing with an infertility situation. I apologize if any of this sounds harsh. It's meant to help, not chastise.

Don'ts:

• Don't offer advice - Not matter how well intentioned, advice from someone who is not directly involved in our personal fertility situation is never received well. Yes, I'm sure there are times you really do mean well, but trust us: if there's something we could have done, we will have already tried it. Plus, you aren't a doctor so you really aren't qualified to offer us advice on our situation.  (Really, you come across like a know-it-all and I'm pretty sure that's not your intention!)
• Don't offer cliches - This is almost worse than advice. "At least you're having fun trying!" or "Just relax!" or "I'm jealous! I miss not having kids" are some of the least helpful statements I have ever heard in my life. Not only do they have no medical merit (which is what our situation is: MEDICAL), they are extremely condescending. You are trivializing our pain, suffering, and devastation.
• Don't assume you understand - Some of you may know someone who has been through it. I'm glad you've had some exposure to what those dealing with infertility go through. However, just because you know someone who has struggled to varying degrees does not mean you have any idea what each man or woman dealing with infertility is going through. There are countless reasons a person is infertile and numerous medical methods. You can't "know" what every single infertile person is dealing with unless you talk to them specifically. 
• Don't assume something that worked for your friend will work for everyone - You know someone who had success working with a certain doctor, using a certain medication, or trying a certain medical procedure. I'm SO glad! Praise God that infertile couple was able to find joy. However, there is NO guarantee that what worked for your friend will work for me or someone else. Every single person is different and our body makeups are unique. Trust me - we wish that were the case, but we've been through enough to know it might disappoint us.
• Don't trivialize how someone feels who isn't infertile, but is affected by someone who is- There are a few people in my life who are aware of our struggles. And even fewer who know most of the details of what's made it so difficult.  However, I am POSITIVE that our struggle is difficult for them. Sure, they aren't the ones going through the blood work, tests, and disappointments, but they are saddened on our behalf because they are close to us. Please don't negate their empathetic sadness. It is real and appreciated.
• Don't take your kids/situation for granted - One of the most irksome things for me is when parents take their kids for granted. So many couples would LOVE to be in your position - getting no sleep, hearing screaming babies, fighting siblings, but they can't. To hear you complain about your situation doesn't make us want kids less. It makes us disappointed in you for sounding ungrateful. We know kids aren't perfect so parenthood isn't perfect. But think about your audience. You're talking to someone who is devoting a large portion of their lives to having exactly what you are complaining about. It's extremely insensitive. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but that's how I personally feel. 

Do's:

• Be honost with us - If you have no idea what to say, tell us that. If you are afraid to say something hurtful, say that. We respect your honesty. We know this is weird for those around us and we appreciate you caring enough to WANT to say something but NOT wanting to hurt us. 
• Ask us for our advice - About to start trying for a baby and afraid that we are going to be upset if you get pregnant before we do? Ask us for how we would like you to handle telling us. Have a baby announcement you want to send us? Call us. Tell us you want to include us but don't want to upset us. Putting together a baby shower list? Ask us if we want a physical invite or verbal invite. Ask us if you're unsure about anything at all - chances are we'll be grateful you care enough to think of us and ask.
• Be sensitive - Infertility is one of the most preciously delicate situations families can find themselves in other than death or infidelity (in my opinion). No one would dare assume they know exactly what to do or say in those situations. Just be sensitive. We aren't made of glass, but our hearts and souls are deeply invested in this process and you have the ability to protect it or destroy it.

I Still Believe

The fertility journey is an unpredictable one. Our bodies are miraculous wonders and predicting how they will behave one minute to the next is like trying to predict God.  It's just impossible.

Nothing about this journey has been easy.  It's expensive.  It's time consuming. It's emotionally draining. It's physically draining. All with no positive outcome promised. The most obvious question to ask is then why do we keep going through it? Why go through so much heartache, hassle, and hardship  if the chances are so unpredictable and unknown? The answer is as complicated as it is simple: Because this is the journey we know God has us on.

For each negative, there have been positives, even though the ultimate positive has yet to be attained.

1. My husband and I have grown in our marriage by leaps and bounds.  2 years ago, I didn't have the slightest idea what it meant to be partners with my husband. To be best friends. To be two halves of a whole.  I get it now. Even though trading my partner might mean having a different fertility outcome, I wouldn't trade him for the world. I understand and respect my partner more today than I did yesterday and more than I did the day before. That growth gained through this experience is priceless.

2. The relationship I have with my Savior has changed tremendously. Christian meant very few things to me. It meant I accepted Christ as my Savior, went to church, prayed at least once a day, and tried to mention God in a non-Christian situation at least once a day. There's so much more to the Christian Faith and walk than I ever imagined. I'm nowhere near where I need to be, but to be aware of how little I actually know my Lord helps encourage me in the right direction, as odd as it sounds. It helps me know there's more to this life than the only outcome I have my eyes on. God is so much bigger than I realized.

3. I have mellowed. Tremendously. It seemed impossible for a Type A, controlling, worrisome first born to mellow. But it happened. God used this journey to pry the controls from my hands and show me what it means to "let it go." It's not something I've ever understood... until THIS. People at work have mentioned that I don't seem to make a big deal out of things. That is a huge compliment. One I won't take credit for. But it still means a lot.

4. I now have a huge appreciation for things I have always taken for granted. I now understand that nothing in life is as easy as I always assumed.  People, animals, and earthly belongings are not promised to us. They aren't guaranteed. Nothing but our "needs" are promised in God's word. Everything else is icing on the cake. Gracious and grateful is how I now feel.

Whether or not we have a baby naturally, through fertility methods, or never have kids, this difficult journey has changed me. It's made me a stronger wife, Christian, and woman. All because God has a plan that I need to trust to completion. I sure hope He isn't done with me yet.

"Though the questions still fog up my mind

with promises I still seem to bear

even when answers slowly unwind

it's my heart I see You prepare

but its now that I feel Your grace fall like rain

from every finger tip, washing away my pain

I still believe in Your faithfulness

I still believe in Your truth

I still believe in Your holy word

even when I don't see, I still believe"

Always

I must apologize - it's been far too long since I've updated.  I'll get you up to speed on what's happened.

I took a break in November from everything.  It got to be too much emotionally and I needed a month to just.... breathe.  Exhale a little and regroup.  It was a crazy month at school anyway, so it worked out just fine.  But by the time December came, I was ready to start the fertility train again.  This time, we weren't going to waste anytime.  IUI, here we come.

The month of December was an interesting one, full of God's hand.  At the beginning of my cycle, I started on injection hormones.  This is another way for a woman to produce more than just one egg.  After about 5 days, I had to go back into the office to see how well I was doing and there it looked like 7 follicles were developing  (Remember:  ovaries hold follicles which grow the eggs.)  That means 7 eggs were becoming "mature" aka ready to release.  Uh, I'm sorry, 7?  I didn't order that many.  Nurses reassured me that it wouldn't really be 7.  My body would only release the number of eggs that were "maturest" (ok not the most official word) when they gave me the trigger shot to release them in a few days.  Turns out, when it came time to trigger the egg release, only 4 were mature enough to release.  Had the IUI done a few days after that and it gave me a reason to take a day off from school.  Who wouldn't jump at THAT chance.

There was more to all of this than meets the eye.  First, the doctor commented at one point that my body "really likes" the fertility drug I was using.  Meaning, it responded extremely well and didn't seem to give me any side effects whatsoever.  Second, due to a certain hormone level in my body, the doctor and nurses expected me to not respond as well as I did. They said I "defied the odds and proved them all wrong."  Third, the only fertility issue we've been diagnosed with is a low sperm count.  At the IUI? at least 10 million above what they consider average or normal.  Fourth, I was told at the IUI by the doctor to "come back in a week" for a progesterone shot.  I made the appointment and went on my way.  Later that week, I got many phone calls at my house saying I needed to call them.  Turns out, they only needed to change the location of my appointment, but after talking to the receptionist further, she realized my appointment was too late! I needed to come in a few days sooner for the progesterone shot.

After finding out the results were negative, I got to thinking.  I realized how present God was throughout the process.  He made everything perfect when it shouldn't have been.  The sperm count shouldn't have been so high.  I shouldn't have responded as well to the drugs.  I should have missed the progesterone shot.  He lined everything up.  Initially, I thought He made everything "perfect" so we would become pregnant, but it turned out to be much more important than that.  He needed us to trust Him.  To trust that He was present.  To trust that He was involved in this process and cared.  Learning that lesson was a tremendous weight off my shoulders.  I was finally able to find peace in this process and let God have the reins.  He allowed me to get a glimpse of Him working so that I could believe he has us.  He's got us.  Always.  He will come through. Always.

This song has more meaning than I've shared, but I'll share it in the future.  Something to look forward to  ;)

"Oh, my God, He will not delay
My refuge and strength always
I will not fear, His promise is true
My God will come through always"

Need You Now

Paula Abdul had a song in the 90's that I used to listen to called "Opposites Attract" and it has a line  that says "I take 2 steps forward, I take 2 steps back."  I was reminded of this song when the fertility doctor called this morning.

My husband had to get a 6month semen analysis after his surgery in late April/early May.  HIs first one at 3 months, was really good.  Showed he increased to 60 million sperm, good motility, morphology, etc. Only little volume.

The doctor called this morning to tell us the results of the latest analysis 3 months later.  While volume is now up to normal, he's down to 13 million sperm, when it should be up around 20.  It seems strange to me to have these statistics go up and down.  I know, in reality, it's par for the course, but it feels like a blow.  After 2 steps forward in August, it's 2 steps back in November.  

Often a single circumstance can seem completely different depending on our perspective.  I could choose to look at this as yet another setback.  Another reason to be angry at his parents for their role in neglecting his physical state while growing up.  Another example of how much it "sucks to be us."  Or I could look at it as another way we have answers.  Another explanation to help us get to the solution.  Another way God's revealed a tiny part of His plan and what He wants us to do.

It's frustrating, no doubt.  To have these problems and see other people conceive in their first try seems unfair.  And if I chose to look at it like that, I'd be severely depressed.  But I choose to see an opportunity to deepen my faith. To trust that He has something greater.  To believe that He knows me and knows what's best for my life.  I may not like the outcome, sure. I may not get to be a parent.  But only He knows that and I just have to follow whatever path He's put me on.  God, I need You now more than ever.

"Standing on a road I didn't plan
Wondering how I got to where I am
I'm trying to hear that still small voice
I'm trying to hear above the noise

How many times have you heard me cry out
"God please take this"?
How many times have you given me strength to
Just keep breathing?
Oh I need you
God, I need you now."