Tag: faith

The Honest Truth


I’m starting to wrap my head around the fact that {hopefully} a month from now we will be finally pregnant with our 2nd. In just a few weeks I’ll find myself in the familiar routine of hormones and shots and Wanda. So. much. Wanda. By mid summer I’ll be peeing on sticks and praying for morning sickness. Especially against the backdrop of COVID19, I’ve been struggling to find my footing. 

Here’s the honest truth. I’m terrified. 

I’m scared of it not working…

  • of hearing the nurse call with that “I’m so sorry” tone in her voice I know too well
  • of the feeling of my heart shattering into a million pieces
  • of having to tell our son, who wants a baby sister so badly he never stops talking about it, that he has to keep waiting. 
  • of losing myself again. I’ve worked really hard to get back to a healthy place.
  • of having to decide whether we will try again, or accept that this is the end.
  • of wondering who she would have been, too– two babies in heaven is enough to wonder about. 

What I didn’t expect, though. What I’m still trying to sort out with God is…I am also scared of it working.

  • of losing the baby later in the pregnancy
  • of having a c-section again
  • of not having a c-section again
  • of an uncertain world that awaits us as we recover from COVID19
  • of not having a say in what vaccines she gets and when
  • of whether I can really handle two children and be a good mom to both
  • of getting postpartum anxiety again and losing all the progress I’ve made
  • of having another child to worry about. The thought of losing a child is crippling.

Do I have it in me? Do I really have the strength to face it all? And as I plead with God. As I bring Him each fear and beg Him for clarity, He reminds me: Isaiah 41:13.

For I am the Lord your God who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you.

God gave me this verse at the very beginning of our infertility.  “Nicole, do not fear; I am holding your hand.” 

He has never let go. He even gave us a little boy’s hand to hold to remind me when my faith is wobbly.

Does this make me stop feeling fear? Not always. But, it does remind me where to look when I feel it. 

Comin’ Home

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713FD137-DE02-4E7E-BFA4-BC423B29A7A2Oh hey! I know, I’ve taken a lot hiatus from blogging. But I’m back! Since the last time I wrote a lot of life has happened (hence the blogging had to take a backseat) so I figured a life update would be a good place to start. Here’s the bullet point version:

  • April- began 3rd frozen embryo transfer cycle (FET) with a new doctor
  • May – transferred a perfect embryo, but it ended with a negative test
  • June- Hubby got let go from job so we sell half our belongings, put the other half in storage and move in with my parents in NorCal
  • July- Hubby gets new coaching job in the Bay Area so we are staying put

Kinda makes your head spin, huh? It certainly felt like life decided to throw it all a us at once, just to see how tough we really are. Just to test our faith, see how we would handle it all. 

Our FET cycle was pretty rough on me physically-more than I remember the other cycles ever being. From the moment I started the birth control pills I was nauseous, dizzy, tired…ugh! I’ll save the whole story for another blog post. I learned a lot, faced some fears (like giving myself progesterone injections) and ultimately ended up heartbroken with another negative pregnancy test. 

We barely had time to begin grieving our loss when our life…got flipped turned upside-down 😉

My husband and the rest of the coaching staff at CSUN got let go. These things happen. Of course I have all sorts of feelings on the injustice of it all, but ultimately, in coaching things are never guaranteed. We knew at some point in his career this would probably happen. You never expect it to happen on a Thursday morning, a week after a failed FET cycle when you were supposed to go camping the next day. We did the math and despite my stable counseling job, the only thing that made sense financially was to move in with my parents back in my hometown. 

It’s funny… for months I had been praying a little prayer under my breath.. “Lord, get us out of here” Just like that. Blunt. To the point. Daily. It’s hard to fully explain; our life in SoCal was wonderful in so many ways, but I was tired. Tired of hopping on the hamster wheel every morning and hopping off exhausted at the end of the night just to do it all over again the next day. I was struggling to show up for myself and my family the way I wanted. The vision I have for my family didn’t look much like the life we were living. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. We were and are blessed beyond comprehension, yet I know there is something different for us. I wanted out. Out of the rat race, out of California with it’s crazy taxes and policies, out of feeling like I’d never catch my breath.

Well, God answered, but not how I had envisioned he would. Typical. About a week after we moved in to my parents home, my husband was offered a coaching position at St. Mary’s College…right up the road (okay, an hour with traffic) from my parents. I attended SMC for my masters degree; my hubby had worked there as one of his very first baseball jobs. It’s a great place. 

I should have felt nothing but excitement- we were home! But, I’ll be honest, that wasn’t how I felt at first. I didn’t (and still don’t) know how we will make it financially in the uber expensive bay area when it’s time to leave my parents home. We’ll likely be here for a year. I don’t know where another baby fits in with this new chapter. I don’t know how the quality of life I’m craving for my family can exist here for the long term. And the control freak in me was having a really hard time reconciling it all. 

But then, we took Austin for ice cream at the dairy…

The dairy, for anyone who isn’t from here, is a drive-thru mini market that has been around for decades. Growing up, we would ride our bikes to the dairy for a 50¢ ice cream cone. To me, those cones taste like freedom, and friendship, and comfort. Everything good about growing up in Pleasanton exists in one lick of that ice cream cone. And there was so much goodness growing up here. 

We walked hand in hand with our son down main street with our cones and I could feel the weight of all the “what if’s” and “how will we’s” lifting. I have no idea what the future holds for us, but for now, we get to give our son a piece of the childhood I loved. He gets to wake up every morning and hug his grandparents. He gets to see his other grandparents and all his aunts and uncles way more often. I get to call up my besties for a random playdate on a Tuesday afternoon. I have dreamed of that for the last 9 years.

With the weight of it all just a little bit less, I’ve been able to see this change with new eyes. God has us here for a reason. He answered my prayer in His way. This will be a season of trusting Him more deeply. This will be a season of staying PRESENT instead of planning. A season of drinking deep from the well of family and friendship. Filling our cups with all the sweetness of home. 

The only constant in baseball is its unpredictability. We may stay here for 10 years. We might have a new team next season. I have no way of knowing and no way of controlling it. So, here I am, learning to let go, to trust and to focus on all the blessings in front of me instead of looking towards a future I can’t control.

Here’s to a new chapter! Thanks for coming along for the ride.

XO, Nicole

{Three Years With You}

The moment they put you in my arms for the first time was hands down the best moment of my life. It’s a memory that will forever be etched in my mind- the weight of you, the smell of you, the peace and love that filled my soul. Pure magic.

Three years with you, my boy. You’ve been with us now for the same amount of time we struggled to have you, wondering if you ever would be. Looking back I can see so clearly how each piece of the journey was preparing me to be your mama.

You do things your own way, on your own time. Just like when you took your time snuggling in as an embryo, leaving us waiting with baited breath. Teaching us to rely on God for patience.

Or how you insisted on snubbing all of your mama’s birth plans, refusing to flip head down no matter what I tried- forcing a c-section when all I wanted was a “natural” birth. It was as if you were warning me for what was to come: “don’t make too many plans, mom. None of this is going to go the way you thought it would, I’m gonna do it my way.” Oh, my independent little boy. I can’t help but laugh because really, with us as your parents how could I expect anything different.

You have made me a fighter. Your very existence is proof that deep inside me is the heart of a warrior. I fought to have you, fought to breastfeed you when many told me to just let it go, fought through postpartum anxiety to make sure I am the best mom I can be for you. I will never stop fighting for you, my love. Never. You’ve made me a mama bear, fierce.

I put you to sleep last night explaining that magic will come to you in the night and when you wake up you will be THREE. But the truth is, the magic didn’t appear last night. The magic started the day you were created and was with you every single day since. There was magic in each new word, each new step, each belly laugh, each “I miss you, mama”. Watching you grow is magic. You are magic, my son.

Each year your birthday is equal parts heartbreak and joy. Sad to leave behind another year knowing I will never again have two-year old you, but so very proud of the boy you are becoming and joyful that I have a future with you in it.

You correct me now, each time I call you “baby” – “no, mommy, I’m a big boy”. But you will always be my baby, my love. Always.

Happy Birthday, sweet boy. May this year bring more magic than the last.

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::The Magic of Sharing::

brene brown courage owning your storySharing is hard. There isn’t a single day that goes by that I don’t second guess my choice to start this blog and be so open on social media and in my personal life about our infertility journey. It’s vulnerable. Imposter syndrome runs wild- Who am I to think anyone wants to hear what I have to say? Who am I to think what I share could help people? Who am I?

But this week hammered home the truth.

On Monday night I posted on Instagram about some of my feelings on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I couldn’t even believe what I saw when I opened my Insta the next morning. I had 300+ likes, a ton of heartfelt comments and a full inbox of messages. That only increased over the rest of the day. Every time I opened Insta I had dozens of notifications. Even my girl boss hero, THE Rachel Hollis had liked my post- what the what?! It’s not about the likes, that’s not why I’m on social media. But the response and the messages were proof that my story resonated. It touched people on some level. People were thanking me for sharing and telling me their own stories in return. I’m not sure if there is a more precious gift than someone sharing their heart with you. I’m humbled. And in turn, their stories and their kind words healed my heart just a little more.

But God wasn’t done making his point.

Today was Mass day at my Catholic school and the theme was “Speak Life” in honor of the Catholic “Respect Life Month”. Of course the topic of babies came up. Of course it hurt.

Remember that colleague who stopped me in the hall, pressing me on when I was going to give Little Man a sibling?…well that day in the hallway, instead of just brushing her off and saying “oh, someday,” I told her. I told her about IVF and I told her we had just lost one. The conversation was brief, and though she was kind I walked away wondering if I had said too much. I felt a little raw. Well, today at Mass she made it a point to come hug me during the Sign of Peace and tell me she has been praying for a baby for me. Cue the tears. If I had chosen to put my walls up and not tell her my story in the hallway that day, I’d be missing out on a prayer warrior in my corner. I had no idea that she has been praying for me all this time. What a blessing.

The Mass continued and at the very end they played a little video of two young children being told by their mom that “there is a baby in Mommy’s belly”. It was adorable. And it totally sucked. I took a deep breath to contain my emotions and as I looked up, another colleague was looking over at me, blowing me a kiss because she knew. She knew that that video, that this Mass, was hard and that it hurt.  She knew because she has seen my blog and my social media and we’ve talked about our shared experiences. To seal the deal she ran over to give me a hug before Mass ended. In an instant I went from silently shouldering my hurt alone, to being held, comforted and seen.

Sharing my life with others is worth it. Sharing builds community. Sharing helps others feel less alone, understood, in it together. Sharing allows the people in my life to show up for me and it opens up the space in my heart to receive the kind of love and support I need. Sharing helps me own my story and my life and gives me courage to show up as my authentic self. I’m sure I will still have moments of doubt on this journey. Times when I wonder if I’m just speaking into the black void of internet-land. Times when I worry that people are really just laughing at me, or rolling their eyes thinking “who does this chick think she is?” Maybe I will even be burned a time or two for being vulnerable. But I’m going to remember this week.

I started Brave Beauty Mama because God was YANKING (not just tugging) on my heart and this week He reaffirmed that I am on the right path. It might be super foggy up ahead of me, but I’m going to keep trusting this path that He has put me on.

Thank you for being a part of my community. For lifting me up and for trusting me with your stories too. What a beautiful thing to be connected to one another.

 

XO, Nicole

Sand Paper Hands

{may 2016 :: baby hands}

I’m not sure when it happened. It feels like just overnight. But my little baby’s hands…they have lost their baby soft touch. No longer are his palms puffy and smooth. He holds my hand now and his palms feel rough…more like his dad’s. The palms of a boy whose been hard at work all day; busy discovering, making, doing. He’s a little boy now… my baby fading into a sweet sweet memory.

I wonder to myself as I snuggle him to sleep tonight, would I have noticed? If we hadn’t faced infertility, if I hadn’t gone through the years of trying and the pain of “what if I never get to be a mom”…would I still notice little things like that?

There’s no doubt that my experience colors my perspective on life, and more so, on motherhood. The mom I am today is 100% influenced by the path I took to get here.

Would I still be laying here snuggling him to sleep for much longer than I really have time for and feeling mostly gratitude? Would I still breath him in deep and kiss his forehead and whisper all the things I love about him, instead of worrying about the things I could be, should be doing around the house? Would I have fought through the impatience and the frustration to stay present with my child and savor this moment, if I had never worried that I wouldn’t have the chance to do it at all?

{first family portrait}

Would I have teared up earlier today, heart about to burst, when he beamed as he held out his first family portrait for me to see? His excitement as he showed me which scribbles were Mommy and Daddy and Sadie ripped my heart into pieces, happy happy pieces. I’m so acutely aware that this simple moment wasn’t promised to me, almost wasn’t mine.

I do know that the worrier in me is amplified by infertility. I see it in my need to triple check that his car seat is tightened correctly before every single car ride. I know it drives my husband nuts that I will recheck his work, making certain he did it correctly too.

The anxiety I feel every night now that he sleeps in his own room…triple check the locks…is the alarm turned on? Did I close every window, every door and the gate to the hallway? Monitor on? Check… And the several times a night I wake and zoom in on the video monitor, just to make sure I see the soft rise and fall of his chest… I’m pretty sure that is the infertility speaking.

I can see it in other peoples eyes, when my son is running a little too fast towards the street and though he’s still far from danger, there is a shrill in my voice that’s a bit unnecessary, a panic that I just can’t control… they must be thinking “geez, this mom’s is a tad overbearing”.  I know. I know it’s unnecessary, I know he’s like 50 feet from the road and I can calm down. But what you don’t know, judgy mom from the park, is how hard I fought for this little boy. Protecting him feels just a bit scarier, heavier than I imagined it would.

I’m pretty sure I can blame infertility for the tears I cried the other night, beating myself up for making him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for dinner, when I knew he hadn’t touched a vegetable all day. See, when you fear you might be childless, you start to make promises to God… “God, if you give me a child I swear I will be the best-mom-ever-on-the-face-of-the-earth” …and that mom would obviously feed her child the most nutritious food…hello!

*sigh* infertility has also taught me to give myself grace, because Lord knows that PB&J is a childhood staple and there is nothing wrong with serving it for dinner. That “best-mom-ever-on-the-face-of-the-earth” stuff has gotta go.

I really do believe I’m a better mom because of my struggles. Not a better mom than someone else, but a better mom than I would have been. Pre-infertility me was pretty selfish, and kinda lazy. My biggest concern about being a mom back then was losing my precious sleep, because I looooved to sleep in (I mean really, ask anyone). I still catch myself feeling surprised when my son wakes me up early on a Saturday morning and my first response is a smile. No one ever got a smile from me first thing in the morning before infertility.

I’ll never know for sure if the reason I can (usually) have eons of patience with my son or the reason I light up every time I see him is just because I’m a mom, or if it’s because I’m an IVF mom, but either way, I’m grateful. I’m grateful that my heart is full simply by seeing his grubby face after a day at work. I’m grateful that I have found value in living in the moment because I don’t want to miss a single thing. I’m grateful that being his mom has pushed be to become a better human than I was before.  

I do know for certain that infertility has helped me see God’s gifts in everything. That our struggle to have a baby taught me how to find gratitude in all things, at all times. Infertility has shown me that I am made for more, and given me the drive and strength to pursue that version of myself, the one God made me to be.

I might not be the best-mom-ever-on-the-face-of-the-earth, but I’m on my way to being the best mom for MY child, the mom that God created me to be. Isn’t that what matters most?

I have gut feeling that pre-infertility me would have missed the point in many ways. She would have gotten bogged down in the day to day, easily dismissed a moment to connect when there was something that felt more pressing to do. I know she would have been a good mom, but I think she’d have a harder time seeing the bigger picture, seeing the blessing that she had in her hands. She just wouldn’t have known. I don’t know for sure, and I am certainly not talking about other moms. I’m not trying to say that infertility moms are better moms…not in the slightest. What I am saying, is that I am a better mom and and better person for the battle we face. That’s my journey.  

I’ll try not to cry tonight when Austin’s newly sand-papered palms reach for my cheek in his sleep. Watching him grow is as much heart breaking as it is the joy of my life. Maybe these tears are also because of infertility. Because the last three years have gone so fast and while I believe I’ll get to see another child through these early years, I know that isn’t guaranteed. I’d like to pause time for a bit, find a way to carve these small moments into my memory so they can never fade, never be forgotten. Sometimes I’m filled with panic about the swift passing of time, grasping at anything to slow it down. Motherhood sure does a number on your heart.

If you’re a mom, squeeze those babies tight tonight and take a minute to remind yourself how precious that gift is. Then give yourself some grace – you’re doing great!  If you’re not a mom yet, if you’re in the trenches of infertility, trust that God is using this time to shape you into the mom He created you to be for the child He’s got waiting for you. And give yourself loads of grace too!

Sending all the moms and moms-in-waiting love tonight. We’ve got the hardest and best job in the whole wide world.

XO, Nicole

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{THIS TIME}

 

I had a “voice of God” moment last week. I was cleaning my office desk and glanced at the cork board hanging above. Pinned there is the picture of our embryo, the one that won’t ever become the baby we asked for.

“I gave you this time for a reason”

I heard it loud and clear (in my head of course). I knew instantly it was a message from above. I am grateful to have heard His voice like this before and could recognize it. I stopped in my tracks, took a deep breath and whispered “thank you”.

God gave me THIS time for a reason. The message was both reassuring, there is purpose to the pain, and heavy. It felt almost like a command, a challenge. I’ve been wrestling with what to do with this knowledge. How do I make the most of this time if it was given to me for a reason? What does that look like? I don’t want to waste it.

Two bible verses have popped up this week since hearing that voice. They seem to reaffirm that there is a purpose to this season. Urging me to be patient and to keep moving forward.

James 1:2-4  Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.

Genesis 50:20 You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

This time is preparing me.

This time is being worked for good.

This time is making me better.

I’ve been talking about my big dreams on Instagram a lot lately. Dreams to build a business that makes an impact in people’s lives. Dreams to write my story so that other people can embrace theirs. Dreams to quit my day job, but still provide financially. Dreams to be able to be more present for Austin and my husband. Dreams to be an example of bravery, authenticity and hard work for my family. Dreams to become the best version of myself- the one God had in mind when he created me.

Big, scary dreams. I’ve been asking for a lot.

So, maybe God is saying: “I gave you this time to prepare you for all those big dreams you’ve been asking me about.”

I don’t know for sure why this time was given to us. I certainly would rather it wasn’t given. I’d rather be pregnant and adding another baby to those big dreams.

But I am trusting that, just like God wove Joseph’s trials and heartaches for good (Book of Genesis), mine too will be used for good.

And what bigger dream could there be than creating some piece of goodness in this world?

Learning to Recognize Myself Again :: Overcoming Shame and Anxiety

I had pineapple for breakfast recently. It’s not a normal food in my house (although I do love it) but supposedly it helps embryos implant after transfer so I had stocked up for my post-transfer meals.

Smells and tastes have a powerful connection to my memories and the leftover flavor of pineapple in my mouth transported me right back to breakfast with my host family in Costa Rica {ten whole years ago}

And for the first time, in a LONG time I didn’t think to myself – “gosh, where did that girl go?”

See, “Costa Rica Nicole” was adventurous, independent, driven by passion and BRAVE. I set off all on my own to explore a country I didn’t know, to serve a community I could tangibly help and…to learn to surf. I spent 3 weeks traveling alone. Three weeks figuring it out on my own. And I was: fearless, confident… vibrant. I look at pictures of me on that trip and I know that was absolutely a “best version” of myself. In all honesty, for the last 10 years I’ve been looking back on those pictures wondering where that girl went and how I could get her back.

Not too long after that solo trip, I got engaged, graduated with my masters, got married, moved to a new state and…lost sight of that girl. My life got flip turned upside down {get it- hehe} and while it was filled with all great things, I struggled to find myself in that new season.

June 2010

I became fearful, unsure and deeply ashamed of myself because of it. I was SUPPOSED to be “Costa Rica Nicole” and I was so embarrassed that I wasn’t her anymore. My inner voice was loud and mean, but I struggled silently for years.  When our little boy was born, after an infertility diagnosis and going through IVF, the underlying feelings of self doubt, unworthiness and shame blew up into postpartum anxiety. I spent many days crying on the floor of my bathroom holding my newborn, who I loved more than life and had fought harder for than I ever thought was possible, asking what the hell was wrong with me? Why was it so overwhelming to take a damn shower? I didn’t tell anyone about those mornings on the floor- in my mind I was supposed to be this uber-capable supermom, and it killed me that I was struggling so much. No one could know.

Of course, the cracks showed and my husband was pretty aware that his wife wasn’t doing so great at this point. I wish I could tell you that one day a light bulb went off and everything got better, but it wasn’t like that. It was a painfully slow process. At one point I went to a therapist, but I didn’t continue…because I was too embarrassed to tell my family, who was in town helping take care of A while I went back to work. Oh the irony, a counselor embarrassed to go to counseling. As much as I didn’t want to go back to work, I have to admit that it helped. It reminded me that I was capable and valuable in at least one area of my life. I was good at work. I didn’t feel like I was good at much else in my life. In my mind I was a failure in so many ways. I recognize now that it wasn’t remotely true, but those lies are powerful when you’re in the thick of it.

Not long after I had Austin I had this crazy nagging in my mind for over a month that I needed to become a consultant for this amazing safer beauty brand that I had fallen in love with {enter Beautycounter}. I had no business adding more to my plate but I joined anyway. It plugged me into this community of empowered and encouraging women. And since they were all reading these “self-help” books, I figured I should start reading them too. So, I started listening to Audible and podcasts. Present Over Perfect was a balm for my heart. I’ve listened to it 3 more times since then and it always grounds me. One Thousand Gifts helped me see God’s gifts in the simple and the hard. The Power of Vulnerability gave me strength to break free from who I “should be” and just embrace who I am. Girl, Wash Your Face gave me the kick in the a$$ to finally start this blog and hustle for my dreams. Eventually, the voice in my head started to sound more like these amazing authors and less like…mean old me.

I started to eat right {most of the time} and take some supplements that helped get my gut health in order {shout out to Plexus}. Eventually I started working out and discovered I actually did like the gym- go figure. (Thank you Faster Way to Fat Loss.) I had been telling myself that lie for a long time (eye-roll).

I took up a morning devotional that I stick to about 75% of the time. Time spent with God and with gratitude is always the answer.

I made the choice to give myself grace instead of holding myself to a crazy supermom standard.

I am working on being intentional about slowing down and enjoying time with my family or time alone instead of always feeling like I have to be productive. The compulsion is real, y’all.

I made a promise to myself that I would never stop fighting to get back to a place of self-love. To get back to a me that I recognized and felt proud of.

And it worked. Little by little I started to see victories where I used to see failure. I still fight the “shame gremlins” as Brené Brown would call them. I still struggle and I still have anxiety. But, today I am able to make brave “Costa Rica Nicole” choices everyday, instead of hide, paralyzed by fear. Today, I can roll with the punches a little easier. I can laugh at my mistakes and learn from them, because GROWTH is my mindset. I try to greet each day with a positive attitude and believe I am capable of anything I put my mind to because I’ve seen it happen before. I cut myself some slack in the areas that don’t really matter to me (like having a perfectly clean home) but I’m determined to never again break a promise I make to myself or my family because those things matter most. I’m grateful that I did this work, especially as we face this failed IVF cycle. I can’t imagine how I would be coping if I hadn’t.

I’ve now realized that I was far from alone in my struggles, especially after birth. A staggering 50%-75% of women struggle with some level of postpartum anxiety or depression. Women who faced infertility prior to having a baby are even more likely to experience PPD/PPA.

And yet, I was so embarrassed. If only I had known. If only I had known someone else who was talking about it. So, I am talking about it now. If you can relate, know you are not alone and trust that you will get through this. It will take work and it won’t happen overnight. Reach out to people you trust. Feed your heart, mind and soul with positive words, images, and sounds. Turn off the negative. Start small and take it one day at a time. Little things add up to big things and one day you’ll realize the fog has lifted and you can breathe again. You can recognize yourself again.

If you don’t know where to start- read these books. I am literally forever grateful to Shauna, Ann, Brené and Rachel. They do not disappoint. I am praying for you sweet mama. I believe in you.

Present over Perfect by Shauna Niequist

One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp

The Power of Vulnerability (and literally anything by Brené Brown. She should be required reading)

Girl. Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis

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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}