Run Run Run, As fast as you can!

Ok, so I don’t really run that fast. In fact, it would be more appropriate to call what I do a “brisk jog.” My running career has been tedious and littered with stumbling blocks (hip injury, broken toe, surgery, blah, blah, blah). I have started the 9 week training program, Couch to 5k three times now, and never completed it. Still, I’m determined to. I just finished Week 6, Day 2, and while I don’t want to jinx it, I think I may just finish it this time! After I finish it, I want to keep advancing.

I’ve always wanted to be a runner. It started because I wanted to burn more calories than I consumed (no small feat). I also chose running because we can no longer fund that gym membership, but we own a treadmill. After my too long recovery from surgery in January, though, I had a fresh motivation. Having to lay around for weeks gave me new appreciation for the luxury of being active. I came to the conclusion that, as long as I am capable of running, I will do it. What a waste, to be walking around in this healthy body, and not make the most of it?!

This morning, around 3am, I had yet another realization. I’m running from something. I thought of my friend and former co-worker, whose blog inspires me. I have the impression, although I can’t remember where she said it, that she initially started running because she needed an escape from the stress of her life. Her husband was very sick and she needed something that she could control. Running reminded her that her body was powerful. When I was awakened to the painful cramping that reminds me every month, like clockwork, that I’m infertile, my first thought was that I wanted to go for a run. This business of waiting is difficult, and I need to remember that my body is capable of so much, and that I can control some things. 2 months ago I starting taking it to the streets (I was a treadmill lover before), and I realized out there that I love being alone with my thoughts and my music. The thing I do most while I run is pray. God alone controls whether or not my body is capable even of putting one foot in front of the other and when I’m doing it, I find myself overwhelmed with gratitude to Him. Which makes me realize that even running isn’t something I control. Anything could happen to take that from me. What I control is my choices. Whether or not to use my able body is my choice. Whether or not to be grateful for what I do have, or complain about what I’m not getting is my choice. Every day we are faced with choices, and our behavior is the only control we have in life.

So, while I ran my little 2.5 miles this morning, I told God that I still trust Him. I praised Him yet again, because I know that His love for me is beyond my comprehension, and well beyond my wants. It’s Easter Week, and I’m reminded that Jesus Christ conquered death for us, so that I have nothing to fear in this whispy breath of a life, which is enormously freeing. So I will keep on. I will remind myself of Jeremiah 29:11-13: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'”

I wish I knew whether He plans to give us another baby, but I do know that He’s a father who gives good gifts, and that He knows what is best for this little family. So, we wait.

Today’s the Day!

The surgery is diagnostic. Laparoscopy. We’re trying to find a reason for my infertility and make sure that there aren’t any issues that would affect my health. As this date approached, I have asked myself if I was undergoing an extreme measure for the sake of fertility. Talking to the doctor yesterday, I was reminded that there are issues that could affect my fertility, but also my health. He was in great support of the procedure, and his confidence was catching. He said that during this procedure, he regularly finds “surprises” (comforting? ha). He could find anything from ovarian cancer to endemetriosis. The more common issues found and fixed during this procedure are endemetriosis, cysts, scar tissue, and adhesions. Other “surprises” that would require any more extensive surgery would not happen today. They would be discussed and dealt with at a later date. And that’s all very unlikely.

It’s an outpatient procedure, so once I prove that I can eat, drink and pee, I’ll be back home.  I’m hoping we find a problem that is fixable, and no problems that are serious.I talked about this on facebook and was humbled by the outpouring of love by my friends. I’m grateful that this is nothing serious, so many of you are dealing with so much more. Perspective is not lost on me.

Now, can we discuss fasting for a moment? There’s something about knowing I can’t eat that makes me the most revenous woman on the planet at 9am. The procedure’s not til 2:15, Stu’s going to have a long day with a very hungry woman.

🙂

Stop me if you’ve heard this one before

I’m still not pregnant. I have refained from writing about this for several reasons, but I find it to be the most therapuedic outlet. Putting tangible words to my feelings feels so good, and I don’t fully understand why. However, one of the reasons I hate talking about it is that people insinuate that this deep longing equates to stress and dissatisfation with my life. With the absolute best of intentions, everyone wants to advise me to relax. Please know the irony of my next statemnt is not lost on me: When people tell me to relax, I want to “type-scream”: I AM RELAXED!!! Inhale. Exhale. In all reality, I really, truly am quite content. I know that having a longing in my heart cannot be allowed to morph into dissatisfaction. That is where these feelings can be dangerous. Dissatisfaction could lead to ingratitude, and to me, there’s nothing worse than an ingrate.

I would achieve the perfect state if I were able to decipher my own selfish emotions from the God-given desires of the heart. I know, from past experience, that God places the appropriate desires in our heart when we are walking closely to him and letting his Holy Spirit guide us. My prayer, daily, is that I know his voice so well that the longings of my heart fit into his purposes for my life. I pray that he would take this longing from me, if it is never to be fulfilled. If he wants for us to adopt a child, instead, I’m more than willing. He hasn’t ignited that fire in me, though, and I fervently pray he will when the time is right.

Yesterday, after taking another negative pregnancy test, I headed off to Tuesday morning Bible study (feet may have been dragging ever so slightly). What a gift those Tuesday mornings are! There, I find a community of women who are of many different ages, ethnicities, upbringings, callings, marital statuses, and even types of mothers. I study with women who have birthed their own large families, women who have adopted their whole beautiful families from this country and other countries, by taking in children at ages ranging from infancy to grown kids. I study with women who have never even been able to have one beautiful child, whose longings must feel a thousand times more insurmountable than mine. Some of the women have been blessed with children, only to have them taken back to heaven all too quickly. Watching the strength of their faith makes me catch my breath. Some are battling life threatening illnesses, and some are concerned with finding work for them or their husbands. Several in our group are actively working to improve the lives of drug addicted people, feed and clothe the homeless, care for and counsel terrified pregnant girls, and some are not there often because they have commited their lives to full time ministry as missionaries. When people accuse Christians of not caring about social issues, I usually chuckle at the fact that they clearly don’t hang out with many Christians. The women I spend time with on a regular basis completely humble me. We are so different. Yet we all have a common goal: to draw closer to God. With that common goal, we find a beautiful bond to one anotherr. It’s the perfect place to be when I’m finding myself completely confused and exasperated. If you are a believer who is not regualrly spending time with people who will encourage you in your faith, I know for a fact that you are more and more susceptible to doubt and lies. Just yesterday morning, I found myself asking a tiny little question that is a seed of doubt: “Does God care?” They can see my struggle and they remind me of what is true: God cares deeply. God has good plans for my family, and there is still so much to be learned from this wait.

We’re studying the birth of Christ and just learned about how Mary, when told that she would be the mother of God’s Son, exhibited amazing faith. She believed God and submitted immediately. Yet, in his great mercy, he still told her how she could find earthly confirmation for her amazing experience. He told her that her (barren) cousin Elizabeth, in her old age, had also concieved a baby. The scripture says that Mary hurried to her cousin (no short journey). On that journey, she must have wondered a couple of times if she was crazy. maybe she questioned if that announcement from the angel really happened, or if she had had an amazing dream. But then she got to Elizabeth’s house. Upon hearing Mary’s greeting, it says that the baby in Elizabeth’s womb lept and that she immediately prophesied what Mary alreadey knew: that she was carrying the Son of God. In God’s mercy, he provided a friend for Mary with whom she could commiserate during such an intense time in both their lives. He let her have real and earthly confirmation. He’s good to us. I’m glad he gave us friendship.

The Crib Shrine

Blake has determined, all on his own, that he would like to sleep in the “blue room”. The blue room is currently our guest room, with a queen size bed in it. He currently sleeps in his crib, which has been converted to a toddler bed. It’s really too small for him. We’ve had intentions, for over a year, to make that his room. I didn’t realize until recently what has held us back. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but I’ve been waiting to get pregnant. Moving Blake into a big boy room means having an empty nursery. We are going to get him bunk beds, so it’s not like I’m going to keep the nursery in its current state for guests (although I find the plane mobile soothing). I honestly never thought we would have to pack up that crib and put it in the attic. I fear a breakdown on the day we do. I thought we would just keep using it, and keep filling up our house. I then mentioned to Stu that we would also need to paint over the green and brown stripes that we (painstakingly) painted in preparation for Blake. His face crumbled. He thought we could leave it up for the next baby. Those stripes are only appropriate in a. A nursery or b. A circus themed guest room.

Another decision we’ve been considering is selling our van. I chuckle today at the girl, 2 years ago (me), who bought that van in preparation for my big family. Oh silly, naive girl who thinks she controls her own destiny. That van has taunted us with problems since the day we bought it. All small, yet very annoying, problems. And most of all, if we’re going to be a family of 3, I could easily drive something more fuel-efficient and save ourselves some real cash. I mean, in all honesty, I love that stupid van so you may find me driving another one just like it (hopefully with less problems), but it really doesn’t make the most sense.

So the question tumbling around my head is this: Do we move on with our life as a family of 3? Can I go ahead and paint the nursery, pack up the crib, and buy a fuel-efficient car? With the baby stuff accumulating in our storage, I’m pretty tempted to have a yard sale. Or is that a lack of faith?  But faith in what? That I’ll get a baby? God hasn’t promised me that. I trust that God is right and good, no matter what. Even if I (gulp) don’t get what I want. So, I know that moving on, and trying to make the best decisions I can, does not really show a lack of faith. I know it will not be the reason I do or do not get another baby. But the way we are living feels silly sometimes. When it comes down to it, waiting on God’s perfect timing can just feel so difficult because our brains are so very finite. I can’t wrap my brain around a big plan. I just want to know if I should sell the van.

In a book I’m reading (Passion & Purity, by Elizabeth Elliot), something really struck me. She was talking about the painful and lonely wait that she went through, wondering if she would ever marry and if it would be to the man that she loved. We are all waiting for different things, but God doesn’t make us wait to torture us. Sometimes it’s the only way we will learn and grow (we are so stubborn like that, eh?). She said this:

“How will we educate our tastes for heavenly things if we are surfeited with earthly?” She goes on to explain: “My heart was saying, ‘Lord, take away this longing, or give me that for which I long.’ The Lord was answering, ‘I must teach you to long for something better.’

Her story is famous because her wait became part of an amazing story. Had she not been faithful during that wait, she wouldn’t have reaped such a joyous reward.

Soup Sandwich

Have you ever heard that term? I have a friend that uses it to describe when she’s a mess, and I love it.

I’ve been a soup sandwich for the past 2 days. As in, I cry almost every time I sit still. The sinus headache is killing me, but the natural botox is refreshing. My eyes have swelled away any signs of crows feet.

On Saturday, I found myself at the usual level of sad when I found out that I wasn’t pregnant. I was not distraught. Just a little sad. The next day, I got a note from a friend. She’s an old friend (like, we go way back kinda old- not geriatric old) who I think the world of. If it wasn’t for the wonders of facebook, though, we might not be in touch today.  Thank you Mark Zuckerberg. Anyways, this friend has been blessed with 4 beautiful children (I told you my friends were like bunnies), and frankly, if you were to ever meet a family and hope that they would populate the world, it would be hers. Her spirit is beautiful. And yet…when she announced her 5th pregnancy, I found it nearly impossible to congratulate her. Instead, I cried for myself.  On top of everything, her due date was the same as mine was going to be from 2 months ago. December 17th. Stu’s birthday.

On Sunday, she sent a note to me telling me that she had posted this to her blog.  Ashley is suffering a miscarriage. She wrote about it again yesterday. I have spent days mourning and I can hardly clarify what for. Her baby? Yes. My baby? Maybe. But in all honesty, I think I’m mourning for hers, as odd as it sounds.  I didn’t have time to feel attached to my baby. I knew I was pregnant for only one day. She had weeks.  But God also, in His great sovereignty, is teaching me an important lesson:

“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.” Romans 12:15

I will, by the grace of God, never let my selfishness ever keep me from rejoicing for someone else again. I know that my jealously had no bearing on Ashley’s pregnancy. But, I did miss out on an amazing opportunity to share joy with someone. That’s the stuff of life.

I’ve now cried all over my puppy, who is sitting in my lap and completely baffled.

You know you have issues when…

…this is the highlight of your shopping trip:

Are you getting this?! 3 EPT tests for $6! I’m guessing that would cost around $20 anywhere else. Which leads me to a very important question… Why are more people not shopping at Big Lots? I’m in love. With savings.

This, of course, leads to other important questions. Buying pregnancy tests in bulk indicate major problems. And this month, I didn’t end up needing one anyways. Which is actually a blessing. If I’m not going to be pregnant, I always appreciate my period showing up on time, or early, thankyouverymuch. I’m very regular, so even being one day late causes hopes to soar to dangerous levels.I was 2 days early this month, Stu woke up to all of the telltale signs of disappointment: A heating pad, the snack, and the bottle of Advil strewn around me in bed. Yup. I almost always start in the night. Last night I tossed and turned while dreaming about being in so much pain. I dreamed I was injured, trying to get to the hospital. In my dream I was trying to find some kind of pain medication. I was desperate. I wonder how long I dreamed this before I finally woke up and realized that the pain was real.

It hurts inside and outside. But it’s no longer surprising. I really do think I’m getting to a place where I’ve stopped hoping. Not trying, but hoping. I know many of you can relate to this. Hope can just be so painful. And, while it may sound like I’m just wallowing, I simply feel like maybe I’m being realistic. This is obviously not happening, right?

Things might seem different tomorrow. We’ll see.

🙂

tick tock tick tock

No, that’s not the sound of my biological clock. Although it certainly makes it’s own noise. That, my friends, is the sound that I hear in my head for the entire last 2 weeks of every cycle. And it is absolutely freeing to tell you about it. I never talk about this, to anyone but the Hubs. We discuss it often. Its not exactly something you announce when someone says, “Hey girl, how ya doin’?” I can’t really respond, “Oh I’m pretty much busy pretending I’m pregnant, in case this is the month that I actually am. Oh, and did I mention I can take a test in 11 days?”

Don’t get me wrong, in the years we’ve spent “trying” (what a ridiculous term), we’ve actually come to a really peaceful place about the whole thing. Our lives are overflowing with happiness and blessings. Our son is so precious that I could never put it into words. We decided a long time ago that this waiting journey cannot comsume us. But, you can’t tell me not to think about it. I’m gonna think about it.

🙂 

So, I will just share with you that the last 2 weeks of every cycle is the most annoying. I’m probably not pregnant, but what if I was? I have many bad habits that I have to break during this part of my cycle, simply because there are some risks you would never take while pregnant. The worst is when I have a cold, or some other ailment that I would really like to self medicate, and I can’t. I do love my Nyquil. I love my coffee too. But I’m not giving up the coffee. Blake turned out fine.

I read this today. God constantly gives me gentle reminders that he hasn’t forgotten me. He’s super nice like that:

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.  Proverbs 13:12

Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:14

Maybe You’re Not Pregnant Too?

So it turns out that I know more than 3 of you who aren’t pregnant. You guys piped up like it was role call!

🙂

The notes I got in response to my last blog were abundant, and I was so grateful to hear from each of you who shared! Women have a reputation for being catty. However, most of us are not. I know so many women who are kind, generous, and full of love. Some of your experiences really put mine in perspective. I was suprised to see how many of you have struggled with fertility issues and miscarriage. I was encouraged by how many of you struggled, and now have the families you had hoped for. I was immeasurably impressed by the sorrow some of you have experienced and fought through. Being a girl is hard. Being a mother takes it to a new level.

So, I’ve decided that since I’m out of the closet, I’ll keep you posted on our TTC journey. It will probably be too much information (TMI on TTC, anyone?), but hey, you’re in control of your browser. This is something I’ve kept private (as many women do), and I’m ready to be frank.

So, you can call me Frank.

I’m not pregnant

…in case you were wondering.

I know that an announcement like that seems unnecessary, and yet it still surprises me every single month.  For about the past 30 of them (but who’s counting?). 

I’ve done this once before.  We know (I think) how to do it.  It happened, seemingly, right on schedule with our first child.  And yet, God is making it crystal clear to me that He alone is the author and giver of life.  I’m sure He’s trying to make some other point, but I obviously haven’t grasped it yet, or maybe our request for a 2nd child would have been granted by now.   

Before you read on, and see what you are sure to perceive as whining (probably because some of it is), let me be clear.  No amount of sadness, longing, or sense of loss will EVER cause me to wish that I, instead of God, could control my own fate.  I’m eternally grateful that the planning of my family is in the hands of a loving God who looks out for each of us carefully.  I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the plans He has for me are better than any feeble attempt I could make.  Jeremiah 29:11.  But I’m still human, and as you can imagine, I have some very human emotions about this roller coaster that some refer to as TTC (trying to conceive). 

Last month we experienced a very early miscarriage.  I wondered why.  I wonder if it’s been happening more than I realize.  It made me see some irony too.  In the short time that I was pregnant, I found myself dreading what was to come.  I chuckled to myself.  While some of you truly love (or pretend to) infancy, I did not.  I don’t feel guilty about this. I loved my baby.  I did not love that time in our lives.  I did not embrace morning sickness, labor and delivery, sleepless nights, breastfeeding, exhaustion, and the feeling of being handcuffed to my house.  Then, just like *that*, I knew I wasn’t pregnant anymore.  And despite any dread I had been feeling, I cried.  I cried for about a week.  I cried because I knew what I was really missing.  The person who exhausts me beyond anything I’ve ever known, my son, brings me more joy than anything else on this whole planet.  Parenthood is a fascinating and wonderous thing. 

Even though I knew the likelihood of getting pregnant the month after a miscarriage, I found myself hopeful this month.  I have not been hopeful for at least a year.  I’m used to not getting pregnant.  I happens all the time.  Even last month, when that very faint line showed up on the pregnancy test, I didn’t believe it.  There was no way that I had a positive pregnancy test because I just don’t get pregnant.  I wanted to take a test because I was getting a cold and didn’t want to feel bad about the Nyquil I planned to consume.  You can imagine my surprise.  Part of my newfound hope this month was knowing that I could get pregnant.  Also, the previous month had given me some medical insights as to why my pregnancies may have not been “taking”.  After seeing a doctor and getting on a new baby aspirin/vitamin cocktail, I found myself getting hopeful for the first time in more than a year. 

I’ve stopped counting how many people I know who are pregnant.  With their 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, even 6th (yes!) babies.  I saw my college roomate this past weekend for the first time in 9 years.  She has 4 beautiful children.  When she walked through the door, I announced to everyone that she was having another!  She looked bewildered and told me that she’s not.  “Are you sure?”, I asked her.  It just feels like everyone is. You all are.  You know it. 

Jealousy is an ugly, green monster, and sometimes it has me thinking shallow, awful things like this:

Really, her?  God, does this make sense from where you sit?

Another one?  She gets ANOTHER ONE?  

Ahem, excuse me Dear Lord, but she doesn’t appear to much want the ones she already has!

Ok, God, seriously. Look at what she’s wearing.  Why can’t I just have hers?

What on earth kind of mother must I be that I can’t be entrusted with 2?!  Just 2!!

Seriously Lord, am I doing something so wrong? 

I shouldn’t share all of those shallow, awful thoughts with you.  They really make me sound like a brat.  But I’m not about to give you the impression that I’m so pious that nothing awful ever comes to mind.  I’ll gladly wait for what God has for me, I know it will be good.  He’s so good to me.  But in the meantime, those are some of the thoughts you’ll find me squashing.  Squash.  Squash.

Since, literally, all of my friends are pregnant, someone is sure to be offended by this.  Let me clear the air.  This has NOTHING to do with you.  I am truly, truly happy for my baby-factory friends and your obviously thriving sex lives (where some of you find the time, I’ll never know, wink wink).  Seriously though, there is no way that lessening someone else’s happiness would ever increase my own.  Yet anyone who has struggled with infertility understands my feelings.  I’m also aware that not all of you are pregnant.  I can think of at least 3 of you who aren’t. 

🙂