Tag: gratitude

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

::THESE WOMEN::

There is something so beautiful about the unconditional love that comes from true friends. Not bound to loving you by blood or by law, the love of a friend is something chosen freely, over and over again, through the good and the bad. I think that kind of friendship is rare. I’m blessed to know it and claim it as mine.

I got to spend the weekend with some of my oldest friends, women I have grown up with. We talked and we laughed. We played in the snow, fell into fits of laughter from a ridiculous game of charades, drank good wine and ate good food. Free of the all the responsibilities we carry at home (kids and husbands and jobs and…), we relaxed more deeply than we had in a long time. This weekend we were able to just be. And I was reminded of how insanely important this kind of time is. Not just because we all need a break- we most certainly do- but because drinking deep from the well of true friendship is essential for my soul.

These women, these are people who know me in a way that no one else on earth knows me. Women who have seen me grow and struggle and succeed. They’ve walked with me as I’ve made every decision of my life since I was…14… when I am in a season of struggling to remember who I am at my core, these are the women who can remind me, my compass on a dark night.

I remember moving away from them for the first time. We all went to middle school together and by the time we graduated high school we knew we would be forever friends. I went to college with 3 of my best friends and most of us ended up back in our hometown after college. So, by the time my new husband and I moved to Seattle to start our marriage in an unfamiliar city, I had been living in the same place as at least 3 of these friends for over 10 years. I didn’t know life without them.  I found myself in that rainy, Emerald city…completely lost, unable to find myself in this new life. My friends had been the mirrors reflecting my best self back to me for almost half my life. Without them, I couldn’t see my reflection.

Of course, there was a lot of necessary growth that came from being apart from my people. Being able to hold the mirror up for myself is one of the most important skills I’ve learned as an adult. But, what I also learned in those early years of being a coach’s wife and living away from my people, was how much I deeply needed these women. Our friendship was more than girl talk and fun (mostly boozy) adventures. These friendships were deeply woven into the foundation of my life and who I had become.

These are the women who can read my heart and speak the words for me when I can’t quite form them. These are the women who know exactly what hard questions to ask to help me find clarity when I can’t see through the fog. These are the women who remember small details of my past that I can’t locate- even the ridiculous ones, like how I would always eat tuna sandwiches at lunch in high school. I have no idea why they remember that, but I love that they do. These are the women who hold my hand and sit beside me in silence, when words just don’t feel right. These are the women who bring out the silly, crazy, lighthearted me that struggles to show up most days under the weight of adulthood. These are the women who challenge me to be better, not because they think I’m failing, but because they see the potential in me that I haven’t seen yet.

Our lives are busier than ever these days. We still don’t all live in the same town – in fact, a friend’s upcoming move to Arizona is the reason we moved mountains to make this weekend happen. I wish we could do this more, but I know for certain the last 3 days have filled my cup reminding me once again how insanely grateful I am that God gave me this tribe of strong, beautiful women who love me just as I am.

Sitting at the airport waiting for my delayed flight home, I opened my laptop to start writing because a knew I needed to capture these feelings before they were swept up and lost in the week ahead. I committed to putting my friendships on the top of my priority list. It’s easy to let them slip down to the bottom when things like work and family consume so much of my energy. But I am a better mom, a better wife, a better employee- frankly, a better human- when I connect with to these women. Our friendship is a vital piece of a healthy, happy Nicole.

What are some ways that you find time to connect with your tribe in the midst of your busy life? Share in the comments below!

XO, Nicole

Coping with Infertility During the Holidays

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surviving infertility during the holidays

Lately, I have this odd inner rebel thing that happens on holidays. Everyone posts their obligatory  “Happy (insert holiday)” pic on social media and I’m like “nope, I’m not gonna do it”…I generally end up doing it anyway (because I have a damn cute family – hello!?), but that rebel is silently shaking her head at me. I haven’t  really understood where it came from, but it hit me today…it’s the pregnancy announcements. The holidays naturally lend themselves to be a great time for pregnancy announcements. Families are together and the cutesy phrases are endless and adorable. “Can’t wait to welcome our little turkey”, bellies wrapped in bows, and ultrasound pics fill my feed…

It hit me today, as I was watching my not-so-little man drift off to sleep, that it’s quite likely we would have made a similar pregnancy announcement this holiday season had our little embryo snuggled in tighter. But he didn’t and we aren’t. So my inner rebel, or maybe really it’s my broken heart, is boycotting the cute holiday instagram feeds because inevitably I’m going to see all the pregnancy announcements and inevitably it’s going to hurt. coping with infertility during the holidays

The holidays are rough when you’re on an infertility journey. Being surrounded by family is at the same time comforting and a painful reminder of what you’re trying to create that just isn’t happening for you. Without fail, someone is going to ask me when I’m going to have another baby, launching into a monologue about how you don’t want to wait too long or the kids won’t have a close relationship and you don’t want to be changing diapers forever… and don’t forget, you’re getting older! There will always be the cousin who got pregnant on accident, the aunt who feels comfortable telling what you really need to do to get pregnant, the uncle who makes a tone-deaf joke about your husband’s manhood, the long lost friend from high school who, after too many glasses of pinot, asks all the inappropriate questions …maybe it isn’t these specific examples, but you get the idea… the holidays are an infertility minefield.

I’m sorry to say, my fellow infertility warriors, but it’s pretty unavoidable. So, how do we survive the holidays…or even more importantly, enjoy the holidays… as we navigate the minefield?

tips for surviving the holidays with infertility

Here are some of the tips I’ve been working on. I’d love to know your holiday survival tips too!

  1. Take care of yourself first. There is no way that you can respond well to Aunt Ida’s probing questions if you are tired, stressed and overwhelmed. What is in your toolbox? What are you go-to things that help recharge you? Know them. Do them. Often. For me, I know I’m better with a good night sleep, some exercise and time spent focused on what I’m grateful for.
  2. Know how you are going to respond. For the most part, we can anticipate the kind of questions or comments that are coming. It’s so helpful to plan and visualize what you want to say and how you want to respond. Have a one-liner ready for when people start asking. It’s the hardest when we aren’t prepared to respond; we tend to respond out of our emotional rawness. I think it is 100% okay to respond with tears, or to express to that their words, though likely unintentional, were hurtful. But, when we find ourselves out of control of our emotions that is when things can spiral and head in a direction we don’t want to go. Similarly, know how you are going to respond internally. You might be able to brush off your cousins questions and change the subject, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t spinning on the inside as she blabbers on about her annoying coworkers. Find a word, phrase, mantra or prayer that will center you, comfort you and allow you to let go of the inner emotional storm. Repeat until you can breathe a little easier.
  3. Identify your safe spaces. Where are you going to go if you need to take a break, if you need to cry, or punch a pillow? Who are the people who you can talk to? Your spouse is a good one to start with, but they could be dealing with their own struggles, naturally. So who else can be your “person”? Know who you feel comfortable asking to hang with you for a minute. Maybe that person can play defense for you too if they see an awkward situation unfolding. Let ‘em know you need their help- heck, make up a code word that lets them know you need to get OUTTA HERE NOW!
  4. Focus on the parts you love. If there is anything I’ve learned it’s that we HAVE to find joy in the waiting, in the pain, in the fear and doubt… it’s the only way. So, what do you LOVE about the holidays? Do you love baking with grandma? Card games with your cousins? Long afternoon walks admiring the gorgeous fall leaves? Do you love visiting the houses that go all-out with Christmas lights? Or snuggling up by a fire with a good book? Fill your schedule with the things you love about the holidays and try to just get lost in them. Be in the moment as much a possible. When that wave of sadness arrives, let it wash in and wash out. Acknowledge it and then turn your attention back to the beautiful moment that is right in front of you. tips for surviving the holidays with infertility
  5. Give yourself grace. Like heaps and heaps of grace. It’s okay to not be okay. It’s okay to feel sad, and to cry and to think that your cousin’s pregnant wife was a total jerk for complaining about feeling fat- you’d give anything to feel “fat”. It’s okay if you need to skip your neighbors holiday party because what really feels good for your soul tonight is snuggling up with your hubby and watching Love Actually. It’s okay to put your needs first, to take care of your heart instead of worrying about offending someone else. Grace, my friend, lots and lots of grace.

 

How do you find joy during the holidays while walking with infertility? Let me know in the comments.

** for the record, not all of these examples have happened to me in this exact way, or on this particular holiday. It’s a combination of my stories and my fellow ttc community’s stories

{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

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

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I didn’t expect the tears today. I knew it was infant loss awareness day. I knew I’d want to say something about it. Light a candle. Say a prayer. But I didn’t think it would hit so hard. I’m not someone who really gets caught up in themed days. ⠀

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If I’m super honest there is a part of me that doesn’t feel like we fully belong to this group of grieving parents. Our sweet embryo baby only made his home on my womb for a few short days. He tried. A chemical pregnancy is what the doctor called it. ⠀

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But I have friends who have lost babies at 10 weeks. At 22 weeks. At birth. After… ⠀

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So much of me feels like our loss just doesn’t touch that kind of loss. And in a way I still think that’s true. ⠀

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But then I saw this image. And then the tears. Because no matter how short lived. No matter how teeny tiny that baby boy was, he still WAS. He existed. He was loved and wanted and he is no longer here. I haven’t cried for our loss in a while. I’ve been focusing on positive things and gratitude, but I’m gonna cry tonight and that’s okay. ⠀

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I’m crying tears for you too, mama. I am 1 in 4. ⠀

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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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Comparison is the Thief of Joy :: Friendships & Infertility

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I have a superpower. I can predict when my friends are pregnant before they tell me. I just have a sense, and no joke, about 2 weeks later, I always get the call. I think God gave me this superpower as a way to protect me and help me be a better friend. See, I get to process ahead of time the idea that my friends are pregnant and I {save for the 9 months that I was} am not and will struggle to get pregnant every time I want to. So, by the time they actually tell me, I can be present for that conversation. I can give them the response they deserve, my joy. I can save the tears for later so they don’t have to be burdened in their time of happiness.  I’m not always great at that part, despite my superpower, but I can certainly respond better than if I hadn’t been predicting it when they told me.

But you know what is really interesting, during that time before they tell me, I often fear that they won’t tell me because they are afraid to upset me, knowing what I am going through.  I have vivid dreams of running into them at the grocery store, their belly clearly pregnant, and despite having spoken recently, they hadn’t told me. It’s almost a worse feeling than that of them being pregnant when I am not.

What would it say about me if the people I love don’t think I can handle hearing their joy in the midst of my pain? I want to be someone who can love my friends exactly where they are at, no matter where I am at.

Because here’s the thing, it always stings. It doesn’t matter if they get pregnant in the thick of my struggle or while I’m pregnant and in the height of joy. I literally was holding my newborn in my arms when I found out a friend was pregnant and even then, even when I had my miracle baby safe in my arms, it stung. Infertility never stops hurting. One of my older friends is 25 years removed from her fertility struggles and she told me it still stings when she hears of people getting pregnant. It’s not logical anymore, but it’s real. The sense of being an outsider, of missing out on one of life’s most anticipated, longed for experiences in its fullness; I don’t think that ever goes away.

It shows up all the time- when hearing a birth story, at a kids birthday party, in a memory of a time we were all together, but I was still not pregnant, in a passing complaint about how hard pregnancy is, or how hard motherhood is, or how “oops she’s pregnant again”.  It will show up on a random Tuesday in the hallway at work when a well meaning colleague presses you about when you’re going to give your son a sibling- time is ticking you know. The sting feels the same whether it’s a stranger or my closest friend. The mom at the park who’s pregnant with her 4th, all the kids are less than 2 year apart and she looks…tired…ya, that hurts too.

It is always going to sting; I have a choice in how I deal with it. It doesn’t feel good to wallow in “Why them? Why not me?” It feels better to celebrate with them. It’s okay to cry about it. It’s okay to feel the sting, to acknowledge the pain and the unfairness of it all. But really, what good does it do me to take away from them the joy that I wish was mine? None. It does me no good. In fact, it only makes things worse.

And the truth of it is, every single one of them has their own pain. Things I wouldn’t wish upon them in a million years. Things I am grateful I haven’t had to walk. Things I’m not sure I would be able to cope with as insanely strong as they have. So feeling jealous, feeling sad, feeling angry…that is normal and has its place, but I could flip that around and they could have felt that way about my joys, too. We all have our stories. They become more bearable, and perhaps more meaningful, when we can walk alongside each other through the good and the bad, the highs and the lows. Being strong when they are weak, letting them be strong for me, when I am weak. I’m lucky to have found friends like that.

Comparison is the thief of joy. The truth of that couldn’t be clearer than when you are walking with infertility. But if I focused on comparing my path to being a mama with everyone else’s, I would miss….everything. I would put distance between us at a time when I need their companionship the most. I would miss out on the depth and richness of friendships that I treasure. I would live my life with everyone at arm’s distance, suspended between the need for connection and the wall of my pain. That’s no way to live. I choose to be present in my relationships. I choose to be vulnerable. I choose to be brave.

{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?

Simplifying Back to School: Part 3 {routines}

“Embracing chaos might be the journey we take to finding peace” – Rachel Hollis

Can I get an amen?!?!

As a true INFP (Myers Briggs!) I struggle with routine, structure, rules, step-by-step ANYTHING. It’s not my natural inclination and when you add a heap of inner rebel {don’t tell me what to do} it makes following any sort of daily/weekly schedule near impossible. The harder I try to white knuckle my way through sticking to a strict schedule the more I end up with a tension headache and less accomplished than if I had just winged it. It’s also one of the quickest ways to send me into storm of negative self-talk and anxiety:

“Why must you ALWAYS fail at this one, Nicole? If you just tried harder and weren’t so lazy, You never follow through on what you say you’re gonna do. You are sucking at this mom thing- don’t you know that kids need structure?! Everyone else can stick to the schedule and do it all, all the time, perfectly- why can’t you?”

I literally laughed as I wrote that because it sounds so ridiculous when you say it out loud. SO MANY LIES! But somewhere along the line I had internalized that the women who were really winning at life were the ones who could follow their planned out life to a tee and never dropped the ball. I don’t know any of those women in real life though…I think the internet created her??

Alas, I do recognize that structure and routine can be very helpful in getting things done. I have a lot of roles and responsibilities these days {coach’s wife, mom, high school counselor, Beautycounter consultant, friend, daughter, sister…} and if I want to bring my best self to each day, I have found that a **LOOSE** plan for each day and a few simple routines do help me tackle my to do list. More importantly, they help me stay positive and motivated and help prevent me from burning out.

Here are some of my tips and tricks:

Plan only the week ahead.  When I am in a place of anxiety, I will try to plan each day of the rest of my life, knowing full well I won’t follow any of the plan I just made, which stresses me even more. So I’ve committed to only planning out my week ahead. Of course the big calendar events get planned ahead of time, but the little details, like when I’ll be hitting the gym and when I’ll fit in paying the bills happens on Sunday.

Prioritize the things that matter most. Know your goals and the things that fill your life with joy. Make sure you are planning in a way that lets you have those things in your life. Don’t expect to do them all in one week though. I can’t have a date night, girls night, family time, me time, workout 3-4 times and spend solid time working on my business all in the same week. But, I can pick what is most important and add one or two into my week. So maybe this week we get a date night and I really need some solid biz time so I schedule longer chunks of time for those two. Then, instead of girls night I can call a girlfriend on my commute home and make one of my workouts a walk to the park with Austin- my neighborhood hill is a killer.

Be careful what you commit to. Don’t make promises (including to yourself!) that you won’t realistically keep. If that means you only hit the gym 2 times this week instead of your wishful thinking 5–so be it. Better to feel good for hitting your small goal than beat yourself up for failing to hit the one that was never going to happen anyway.

Have a set wake up and bedtime. Don’t let them be compromised. I’ll be honest, this is a work in progress. I LOVE MY SLEEP. Going to bed early is no problem. Waking up early, not so much. But, I notice a huge difference in my day when I go to bed at a reasonable hour and wake up early. I aim for 10pm bedtime and 5:30am wake time.

Streamline your morning routines so you can get the day started on a positive note:

  • Start with a little me time- fill your cup first. For me, that looks like a little time in a devotional and prayer (currently loving 100 Days to Brave), writing down my goals and what I’m grateful for and setting a priority list for the day.
  • Simplify your beauty routine (check out my routine here!)! I used to spend way more time in front of the mirror, but I’d rather spend it sipping coffee in silence before little man wakes up. Beautycounter’s Flawless in Five makes looking put together so easy! Most days I do my makeup in my car. If you can- let your hair air dry. I know my hair could look better if I styled it, but I pull it into a bun most days anyway.
  • Try taking a shower the night before and make that be bath time for the little one. Two birds, one stone. #winning
  • Make sure you have easy, portable breakfast options for the family. I don’t cook in the morning-ever.

 

 

Have just a few non-negotiable afternoon routines – these are mine:

  • Spend at least 15 minutes just playing with Austin. Getting lost in play with my son will ground me and uplift me every time. He soaks up the quality time and I really think it makes a difference in his behavior through the evening.
  • While making dinner, make lunches and tackles dishes. Then be done with the kitchen. I keep meals simple so that I’m spending the least amount of time in the kitchen as possible. You can read more about my meal planning here.
  • Set out as much as you can the night before – clothes, fill water bottles, purse, kids backpack, gym bag, setup coffee maker, etc. I spend about 10 minutes running through my mental checklist of things I’ll need in the morning and just speed through it.
  • Bring bags to the car so you aren’t juggling all the things AND a toddler {but don’t leave valuables in the car. People can still be jerks}
  • Spend 10 minutes before bed writing down what you’re grateful for that day. Gratitude is the key to basically everything- I swear. I just bought this Five Minute Journal to use in my morning and evening routine and I am really excited about it!

There you have it. If I try to get more planned out than that, I set myself up for failure. Because come on… no two days are the same when you’re juggling all the things, especially if you have kids in the mix. I believe as women we can have and become all the things we want, but we probably can’t have it all in one day, or even one season of life.  You have to be flexible and roll with it or else every day will end with frustration. Embrace the chaos, give yourself loads of grace, and focus on what matters most to you.

XO, Nicole