Tag: brave

Fighting for Breath

When I was young, maybe 6 or 7, I fell on the playground and landed on my back. It was the first time I got the wind knocked out of me and I still remember that feeling of gasping for  breath, knowing it was there, but unable to feel the relief.

It’s hard to comprehend the peace and confidence I felt through our recent IVF cycle now that we are facing the reality of it’s failure. I find myself thinking how naive I was to think it would just be easy this time…pop a few pills, let Dr. K work his magic… I mean it worked the first time obviously it will work this time (insert palm to forehead emoji)

But in all honesty, it never occurred to me that I wouldn’t be pregnant right now. I truly thought and felt with confidence and peace, that this was going to work. I mean of course I knew that there was a chance it wouldn’t, but that never felt like a real possibility.

We took a spur of the moment “let’s escape reality” trip to Disney this past weekend. It was good for us to be together and away, but as the weekend went on, the shock of it all started to wear off and even the happiest place on earth couldn’t keep my heart from aching.

I sat at work on Monday plotting out my college workshop program for the spring and as I flipped the calendar page into April it was like the “L” reached out and punched me in the gut. I’m not supposed to be at work in April. I’m supposed to be at home, loving on a newborn and adjusting to life with two. I know that kind of sucker-punch will continue as we move through the year and face all the things I had planned to be pregnant or have a newborn for. I find myself praying, with absolute admiration, for the women who carried children much longer than I did and lost them, who face would-be birthdays and holidays and small moments in time and have to cope with the fact that their child isn’t here with them. I’m sure the longer a baby is carried, the harder the loss is. That doesn’t diminish our loss, but it gives me some perspective, too. One in four women will experience pregnancy loss. That’s a lot of us. That’s a lot of strong freaking women.

The more I read about HCG levels in IVF and chemical pregnancies and implantation, etc…the more I realize how true it is when we call Austin our miracle baby.  You don’t often see a successful pregnancy with numbers that started as low as his did. I’m not sure what it means for us that both our embryos started with low numbers. One made it and one didn’t…so many questions with so few answers. That’s the way it is with infertility… a lot of unanswered questions.

People keep asking what our next steps are. I honestly don’t know. We will absolutely try again, but our failed cycle has knocked the wind out of me. What I thought I knew has shifted and I’m just trying to catch my breath. On some days it feels like my defenses are up and I am building walls so I don’t get hurt again. On other days it feels like I am just taking a moment of silence to sit with God and really feel my way through this, allowing all the things to flow through me while God holds me by my right hand as he has promised. I fight for those days, through my sadness; I fight to hold on to God even when I don’t really want to, even when I’m angry with him, even when I can’t see him clearly. I fight because he has always fought for me.

I learned on that playground long ago that if you fight hard enough, gasp long enough, the air will once again fill your lungs and you will return to the jungle gym ready to swing on the monkey bars again.  I’ll get there. We will get there.

I Still Believe in Miracles

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I learned a long time ago that sorrow and joy can coexist. That they are really two sides of the same coin. That you can’t know the depths of joy without having known sorrow. And we only know sorrow because we have known joy.

{The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.- Khalil Gibran}

I’m grateful for that long ago learned lesson. Grateful that the truth of it has shown up enough times in my life that I can face today’s news with the hope and certainty that while today I feel deep sorrow, I know I will again feel deep joy.

This cycle did not work. Our embryo did not implant. I’m not pregnant.

The air around me feels heavier as I write those words. A weight hangs off my shoulders. I knew that was a possibility when we got our first pregnancy test results last week. On Monday we heard that my HCG levels had decreased when they should be increasing, but still we hoped and prayed. God works miracles everyday. This morning we tested one more time. Our sweet baby just didn’t make it. There is no rhyme or reason. Nothing we did wrong. It is just how things happen sometimes.

I still believe in miracles, though. I am a mother to one.

I am a firm believer that emotions are meant to be felt to their fullest. We will continue to grieve this loss. More tears will be shed. More anger. More “why didn’t it?” If I try to deny my feelings they will only fester and become bigger.

I am also a firm believer that we get to choose how we respond to the things that life brings us. I can choose to let this sadness take over or I can choose to face each day with hope. I choose to find moments of joy in the midst of our sadness. I choose to believe in God’s plan, even though it doesn’t look like my plan. I choose to still see our many blessings and be grateful. There are a million things that I have to be grateful for. I am grateful for the short time I got to hope for the promise of new life growing inside me. It is a privilege not everyone has.

Our baby boy {yes, it was a boy} was just not meant to come earthside. He is forever in heaven with our God and our grandparents and heavenly family who love him as much as we do. I know we will meet him someday.

I can’t begin to tell you how much your prayers and kind words and messages have meant to us. Please continue to pray for us and for our baby boy in heaven. We aren’t sure when we will try again. It is a complex conversation. But, we are confident that our family will continue to grow in God’s time. At the beginning of our infertility journey, God spoke to me through Isaiah 41:13; He is holding our hands today, assuring us to have no fear, for He will help us.

I leave you with one of my favorite poems by a favorite author: Kahlil Gibran

On Joy and Sorrow

Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?

The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.

Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?

And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.”

But I say unto you, they are inseparable.

Together they come, and when one sits, alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy.

Only when you are empty are you at standstill and balanced.

When the treasure-keeper lifts you to weigh his gold and his silver, needs must your joy or your sorrow rise or fall.

When the answer is “maybe”

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This morning I had my first blood test to see if Baby #2 has decided to stick around. I woke up really early so we could get on the road and make the hour trek through LA traffic to get there right at opening. I had to head right to work after, another hour away, and get Austin to daycare on the way. Suffice it to say, it was a potentially stressful start to an already stressful day.

Walking back to the car after my blood draw, I spotted the adorable breakfast cafe that I’ve been telling myself I’ll try “one of these days” every time I have an appointment with Dr. K. So, today, instead of rushing back to work after my appointment and letting the anxiety of the day take over, I chose to slow down and take my little man to breakfast. Nothing fills my heart and reminds me of God’s never-ending provision like some quality time with this guy. ⠀

Should I have headed straight  back to work? My boss would probably have said “yes”. {actually, my boss is amazing and probably would have told me to grab her a pastry on the way back, but HER boss probably would say “get back to work”) And certainly the “people pleaser” in me had to wrestle with that one for a minute. But…

I am so glad I chose to listen to what my heart said I needed over someone else’s expectations. I left our 20 minute  breakfast detour feeling immense peace and gratitude. If I hadn’t stopped and slowed down enough to see and feel and enjoy my many blessings…I wouldn’t have been in a great place to hear … “maybe”…

Maybe you’re pregnant. Maybe you’re not.

My HCG levels came back positive, but lower than they want to see at first. I’ll have to retest next week and see if those numbers are increasing. This is exactly what happened with Austin, so I’m less worried than you’d think. But still, now I am living in limbo land a little longer, wondering if every cramp, every twinge, every spot of tiny pink blood is just our baby settling in or the end of this cycle.

Gratitude is the antidote to anxiety. Gratitude is playing defense to my fear right now. Gratitude is keeping me hopeful when I could turn to doubt. Gratitude is a the coziest warm blanket of peace wrapping its arms around me right now. Well, gratitude and Jesus 🙂

Today was a reminder of God’s instruction. He tells us to “be still and know that I am God”. Be still and know His presence. Be still and know His peace. Be still and know His promises. Be still and know His love and goodness and provision. But first, be still. Slow down so I can see Him and all the ways He shows me who He is.

Will I be taking deep breaths all weekend as I remind myself to choose gratitude over anxiety? Yes. Will I cry a little? I already have. Will I wonder what will be next for us if this baby isn’t meant to join us earthside? Of course.  But I won’t doubt that God has a perfect plan for us, because I have seen His promises come to life time and time again. No matter the outcome, we are blessed and my life is good and beautiful.

 

{Thank you for all your prayers and baby dust- it means the world}

 

What I Know For Sure :: Gratitude

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I spent the morning crying. And when I say crying I mean ugly faced, red cheeked,  tears pouring, bawling my eyes out crying… for a good 45 minutes. 

My tears  weren’t from sadness or fear or anxiety. They could have been since we are transferring baby #2 soon and I should be a total mess. But no, it was gratitude. Deep, heart bursting, skin tingling, joyful gratitude. The kind of you feel deep down in your bones. 

It started with my morning devotional. I decided to play some music and chose my favorite worship song of all time- Oceans by Hillsong United.

“Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You’ve never failed and You won’t start now”

It’s a song I listened to over and over during our first round of IVF. And as I listened to the lyrics and remembered that season of our life while watching my crazy, wonderful toddler running circles around me, I was struck with the most profound joy and feeling of gratitude. For the blessing of this life I get to call mine. For God’s unwavering provision. For His promises fulfilled. For His unending hope.  He has never failed me… 

Last night we had a family date night. It was a special night because we also picked the gender of our future baby. See, with IVF, you have the ability to choose the gender, since we know the genetic makeup of our embryos. I don’t love having that choice in my hands and a HUGE piece of me wants to be surprised {like all the other normal parents who get to do gender reveal parties and such}. So, we are making it a surprise as best we can. Last night at the beach, we prayed over a little bowl full of folded white paper strips, each labeled boy or girl. Austin reached in and grabbed a piece and put it in an envelope. We sealed it and threw away the other strips so neither of us (ahem- my dear husband) would count the remaining papers and figure out what Austin had placed in that envelope.

This morning, in the midst of my grateful tear-fest, I had this beautiful vision: my grandparents in heaven sitting with our future child. The one God had already chosen for us. They are waiting with him or her and helping to prepare that child for their earthly home with our family. 

If I wasn’t crying before, you bet your booty I was crying then. I have often felt my grandparent’s presence since their passing and have had some really cool experiences where Austin has recognized them without me having told him about them before, so I 100% believe they are angels in heaven. It was the most comforting, peaceful image I’ve ever had.

Austin eventually noticed that mommy was crying. It took him a surprisingly long time; I think children are so much more comfortable with emotions that it didn’t even register until he heard me choke back a sob.

“Mommy, you sad?” he looked at me with the tenderest eyes and came over to pat my knee.

In that moment I got to hold his angel face in my hands and tell him I wasn’t sad at all. I was crying because I was happy. So very happy that God had given him to us. He smiled and nodded like he understood. Then he went back to playing.  He probably won’t remember this specific instance in his life, but I hope he always remembers and feels the love we have for him.

What this morning’s emotional melt down revealed to me is this, the truth I know way down in the deepest parts of my soul:

Whatever the results of our embryo transfer, God is good. God promises that He has good plans for us and I trust him. Because He has always, always provided. He has always, always been good. Even in the hardest parts, He has been good. He’s blessed us beyond anything we deserve or have earned. 

It is a gratitude that leaves me speechless. A gratitude that I am blessed to know.

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A note to self…and anyone else who needs to hear it

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Hey Mama,

Yes, you. The one with the toddler who just flung himself on the floor screaming. I see you.

Yes, you- the one who clearly tried to look put together as you stepped out the door, but the day has run you a little ragged (the messy bun says it all). You still look pretty.

I know, I saw that deep breath you took. That extra few seconds spent closing your eyes praying for patience as your little one struggles to break free from your grasp. I’m proud of you.

Yes, I’m talking to you mama. I saw you glance longingly at that group of 20 somethings enjoying an afternoon of laughter .. and cocktails ..as you shoveled your lunch into your mouth with one hand, in between laps around the restaurant. I know you wondered if that would ever be you again.. and I know you felt a little guilty for thinking it. It’s okay to feel that way. It doesn’t mean you don’t love being mama.

Yes mama, you – the one who just said “no” for the hundredth time today. The one who is silently questioning if she is doing it all wrong because Lord knows the hospital did not send you home with a manual in how to parent a toddler. You, the one who dreads getting in the car because of the car seat battle that always ends in tears.

Yes, you… did you see that? Did you see the way your little person just looked at you, squealed your name and wrapped his arms around your neck. I know you were there, but did you really see it?

See mama, I know it can be tough, but the way that little boy just hugged you is all the proof in the world that you are doing … great. Your little one knows he is loved and that is all he truly needs. Sometimes you just need a little reminder. So sleep tight mama. It starts again tomorrow.. but you got this!

– Love, Me

Foreboding Joy

I’ve been on an infertility rollercoaster lately.

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We’re scheduled for our embryo transfer for baby #2 this summer and I’ve noticed lately that I’m feeling rather disconnected from this reality. Like there is something in me that is blocking out the anticipation, excitement, joy, even the fear. Like, I’ve been numb to it. Gah, so frustrating. I’ve slowly been peeling away the layers of why and I spoke it out loud for the first time to my girlfriends this weekend. Thank God for girlfriends, right?
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So here’s the thing I am SO DAMN BLESSED, like, beyond comprehension. And I look around and see so much heartache. Fellow TTC Sisters who are still struggling to have their first child. Friends who have lost babies before they even saw the light of this world. Friends who have lost children who were just getting started. Friends who have endured tragedy and trauma…and here I am asking for more blessings? Who the hell do I think I am? I have it so good…
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And at the same time, it feels like by asking for more that I just might tip the scale..and all those things, those “in my worst nightmare” things, will happen. Because there has to be such thing as too much of a good thing, right? Everything comes crashing down at some point, right? Maybe if I just ..don’t move…don’t change anything…don’t ask for more…then maybe I’ll be protected from all those scary scary what-if’s?
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Of course my friends gently reminded me that I have lived through some of my own nightmares. And that I have zero control over when, or if, another bad thing will happen. The only thing I am doing by not allowing myself to feel all the things that come with trying for another baby, is robbing myself of the joy that I have been blessed with.
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Everything about infertility and motherhood is vulnerable. It’s so easy to try and put up defenses. But I don’t want to lose the joy of this season in my life. Because it is so, so sweet. Brené Brown calls it foreboding joy, and I am the queen. She also says gratitude is the antidote. So, I am focusing practicing gratitude and savoring all of the sweet blessing of living in this moment, right now.

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