Tag: vulnerable

::When Hope Hurts::

“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.” Friedrich Nietzsche

Well geez, Nicole, that’s a little dark. 

I know… and it’s not my usual outlook, but today, I’m angry at hope. I’m angry at the small, tiny voice of hope that says “what if”. What if you really are pregnant this time and not just late?

Of course I’m not. The red streak on that wad of toilet paper confirmed it for me just moments ago.

I’m angry that despite all logic, all knowing, all the years of irregular cycles that tell me this is just another late cycle…despite it all…I google the symptoms, I count the days, I negotiate when I will actually pee on that stupid stick…if I make it until Saturday morning I’ll test.  It’s Friday afternoon. 

I’m angry that I still, after all the needles and dollars and dates with ‘wanda’, I still found myself feeling giddy and daydreaming about how I would tell my husband that we were pregnant– on our own.

I still calculated the due date and wondered if maybe we wouldn’t find out the gender until the baby was born. I still allowed myself to believe it was possible.

Hope. Today I wish I could silence her tiny but unyielding voice. Today I wonder if I will spend the rest of my life, at least my pre-menopausal life, facing the heartbreak of hoping despite all odds that I’m actually pregnant this time. 

Tomorrow will be better. Tomorrow I will embrace hope, love hope, believe in the necessity of hope.

But not today.

 

 

::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?

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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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}

 

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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