Resolution

Over the month of December, I've been doing a photo a day challenge on Facebook. While I realize that my photo skills aren't up to snuff with the rest of the participants, I wanted to do it - for myself.  I wanted to try something different, to think and see just a bit differently. In these ways, it's been a rewarding experience, yet it's actually been quite a stretch for me to do this. More than a few times I wanted to just stop - it, like everything, felt too hard sometimes.  Ar has been a huge encouragement to me, helping me to keep going. Now, with only two more days left, I think I'll actually finish...

Anyhow, today's theme was resolution.  I struggled with what to do.  I don't even normally set New Year resolutions, but this year I know I must focus on letting go.  I'm not sure my photo will make much sense to hardly anyone else - in this context, anyhow - but it felt right to me.

It's amazing that God makes sunsets so beautiful, isn't it?  After all, the night that follows is terrifying.... it's dark and seems to last forever. Everything seems different in the dark, you know - and not a good kind of different.  We wonder if the morning will really ever come?  Will the sun that so beautifully went away really rise again?  Or is it just me who wonders such things?  Yes, every day has its glorious sunset - just before the world starts to turn terrifying...  only to get progressively more terrifying leading up to dawn. I'm not a particularly great sleeper, so I've seen many a literal darkest before the dawn.  Sometimes it takes a lot of faith just to make it through the night.

This is where I find myself now.  I've been fighting the day's end for too long - scrapping for more time... trying to squeeze more hours into the day, manage the clock, use every timeout and trick I can think of to prolong the inevitable - and terrifying - night.  Even though it looks far from beautiful, I'm here anyhow.  To provide a little context for my picture, in relation to the theme of resolution, I included this quote that has been bouncing through my mind for months:

"Some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is letting go." 

(Hermann Hesse)

This has been such a long and hard day.  As hard as it is to let go, I know that at this point the brave and strong thing to do is to let go.  It's time to accept the night has come, trusting that the dawn also will come - and hoping for a better tomorrow.  It's awfully dark, though - and it hurts an awful lot.  

In church this morning, the pastor spoke of when young Jesus gave his parents a big scare when he stayed in Jerusalem, while they were headed home.  They eventually, after a lot of anxiety, found him in the temple sitting with the teachers, listening and asking questions... and amazing them with his understanding.  His parents were astonished.  When his mother asked him why he would cause them this anxiety, he answered, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"  

To be honest, I've never really thought much about this passage before, but I'm glad I was there to hear it today, because it came to life for me today.  This, just a few days after I started reading a book called, "Where is God when it Hurts?"  (Philip Yancey).  So far I've not found the book to be that insightful yet - but I'm only about 25% in.  I've always liked Philip Yancey's writing quite a bit, so I'll stick with it. However, the sermon today seemed to be the very reminder I was looking for in this book.  "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"  

The pastor explained that the more literal translation would be to say, "Did you not know that I must be about my Father's business?"  He emphasized that while we - even those of us who know Jesus - search for Jesus, he's already made himself perfectly known to us.  He hasn't left; he's still about his Father's business. 

Jesus hasn't left - I know exactly where to find him.  

"God of grace and truth, in Christ Jesus you come among us as light shining in the darkness.  I confess that I have not welcomed the light, and have not trusted the good news of great joy.  Forgive me and renew my hope, so that I may live in the fullness of your love, trusting in the grace of Christ our Lord."

A kindlier dozen, please

I posted this same poem last new year; it still speaks perfectly to me:

"And ye, who have met with Adversity's blast, 

And been bow'd to the earth by its fury; 

To whom the Twelve Months, that have recently pass'd 

Were as harsh as a prejudiced jury - 

Still, fill to the Future! and join in our chime,

The regrets of remembrance to cozen, 

And having obtained a New Trial of Time, 

Shout in hopes of a kindlier dozen." 

(Thomas Hood)

AF arrived - five days late - on Christmas Eve to destroy any lingering hope that my body can do what women's bodies are meant to do... to destroy any doubt that what so many attain so easily, often without even wanting it, is just completely out of reach for me.  Yeah, I had such high hopes for 2012. Oh I am tired and ready for a New Trial of Time.  In this New Trial of Time, I must learn to let go...  to lay it on the alter....  to trust that it will be redeemed.     

Hazy

As 2012 winds to an end, as the days get shorter and darker, and as the world has gotten itself covered in whiteness, cold, and ice, I find myself utterly exhausted - physically and emotionally.  I started off 2012 with the highest of hopes that I'd be a mom, or very nearly a mom, by the end of it.  Could that have only been a year ago?  I feel like I've aged 15 years.

It had taken so much to get back into treatment; I went all in.  When that didn't work, I wish we could have taken the next step to IVF, but it wasn't - and isn't - possible.  I still sometimes fancy that perhaps we'll just find a baby or two that needs us and it'll all magically work out.  Still, I no longer hold hope for any of these dreams of motherhood - high or otherwise.

Yeah, it's been quite a year.  Certainly there have been plenty of sweet, fun, and loving times too, of course, which I cherish.  Yet I find myself anxious to be past this next week of Christmas and back home again, but then I want to nap.  I want to crawl into bed with Ar and nap for a very long time - maybe years.  I don't mean the dead to the world kind of sleep, but the sweet, cozy, warm, cuddly kinda nap where you're a little in and a little out...  During those hazy times, you remember only all that is good and wonderful in life - not the hard stuff.  Hazy times are great that way, all is warm and cuddly and funny.  Once you wake up fully, there's memory and pain and tears.  Oh I am tired of memory and pain and tears.  I wonder if spring will ever come.

Joy to the world...

...the Lord is come!!  

I love this song!  I love Christmas carols and I love church at Christmas time!  (Not that I don't love it the rest of the year, of course, but Christmas is... so very special.)

Today at church was the kids program - about 60 or more super cute kiddies up there singing and reading... They provided the entire service - and they were all you'd hope for and then some.  The older kids did an excellent job reading, some with more dramatic flair than others.  The younger kids sang great and provided some good comedy.  Some of the kids were dressed like little men and ladies, others in Angry Birds ties or blinking lights ties, others in Santa dresses or tutus...  It's hard to explain the complicated mix of emotions that arise with this sort of event.  It's wonderful to listen to children singing about Jesus!  It's sweet and lovely and fun - and incredibly heart wrenching.  We should have maybe a five and a three year old by now, if only...

Still, I thought I was holding up okay, but towards the end when we were closing with "Joy to the World," at the 3rd verse, the tears started to drop - and could not be stopped. I couldn't even finish singing.  These words just pierced my heart:

"No more let sins and sorrows grow,

Nor thorns infest the ground;

He comes to make His blessings flow

Far as the curse is found,

Far as the curse is found,

Far as, far as, the curse is found."

My sorrows have grown... oh how they've grown.  They have grown beyond my comprehension.  And don't even get me started on the thorns infesting the ground....

And so the tears did flow.

I'm so glad that Ar didn't have to work today, so he was there beside me.  There's a reason I posted this picture today, for the photo a day challenge I'm doing.  Today's theme was "hands at work."

I've posted this picture here before - all the other pictures (except a special one of Ar that I love) I'm shooting special for the challenge, but I felt this one was appropriate for today.  We ended up having a lovely day together.  What a blessing to be able to talk through the heart break, once again - and to still be able to have such a nice time together. I never understand why Ar hasn't grown sick of me yet, but I'm so very grateful.

I'll just never understand any of this, and I always want to understand.   More importantly, I want to fix this - to make it better, but it seems there's no making it better.  There's only forward and the hope that maybe one day I can sit through a children's program without bursting into weepy tears.

Oh Lord, how I need help.  I am so broken.  

Red nosed...

Hey - it's HJ the red nosed blogger checking in here.  I wonder if Santa needs my help guiding his sleigh this year....

Indeed, my lovely monthly pimple has arrived to usher in another month of confirmed barrenness.  AF hasn't arrived yet, but the arrival of the pimple means it's on the way; today is CD26.

This month's monstrosity decided to park its ugliness right on my nose this time.  It's perfect, really.  After all, by this time, that I need to find my way out of this monstrosity really should be as clear as the pimple on my nose.

How do you let go?  How do you give up on a dream that is so right and good?

I value perseverance so much more than acceptance, yet I do believe that sometimes strength is in the letting go. Belief or not, I've never been been good at the letting go.  In many ways this is a good quality in me, but of course, as with so many things, it can be a blessing - and a curse.  Have I laid it at the alter?  Have I laid at the alter that nagging spirit of mine that constantly, even in the depths of darkness, tells me to hang in there, to not let go...  that inner voice that so vehemently believes that the answer, the resolution, the way, is always there if you just dig a little deeper, work a little harder. 

Sometimes it's actually not there.  This is hard for me to grasp, let alone accept. Besides, what am I missing in my pursuit of it?  Perhaps the good really is the enemy of the best.

It's so hard to trust - to really trust, with more than just lip service (or fingertip service, as the blogging case may be) that God, our holy father - Abba - will not let this life of mine be unredeemed.

These are some of the lyrics to the Selah song I posted a couple posts ago:

The cruelest word, the coldest heart; The deepest wound, the endless dark; The lonely ache, the burning tears; The bitter nights, the wasted years.  Life breaks and falls apart; But we know these are...  Places where grace is soon to be so amazing. It may be unfulfilled, it may be unrestored; But when anything that's shattered; Is laid before the Lord; Just watch and see, it will not be unredeemed. 

I've had the strength to persevere for a long time, and I'm very tired.  I wonder if I have the strength to let go. Or am I off to the Island of Misfit Toys?

Pimply yours,
HJ

If only in my dreams

I'll be a mom for Christmas... if only in my dreams...

Indeed, it is only in my dreams, and it broke my heart to wake up.  The dream started out a little scary, but it became quite lovely.

I don't remember all the details, but these two adorable little kids - a little girl about 3 and her big brother of 4 or 5 - needed help.  Their parents had left them and someone was out to get them, so they were on the run - and I helped them escape.  This part of the dream must have been quite stressful because Ar says that my sleep-antics woke him up.  Apparently I was pretty riled up.  He woke me up because I was acting frightened, but I went right back into the dream.  In the end, the little girl told me she loves me and that they want me to be their mom.  I told her I would love that!  Ar wasn't seen in the dream, but I knew that he would love them as much as I did.  After that, I asked my boss to write me a letter that would allow Ar and me to be the kids' parents...   She didn't want to at first, because she thought I'd quit my job if I had kids, but finally she agreed.  In the end, the little girl was hugging me on the front porch of the house that I grew up in.

Then I woke up and ohhhhh - how I wanted to fall back into that dream, but it was over; I was awake and there was no going back.

Besides, this is real life and all there is is forward.

A great fall

I had a terrible realization today:  I'm Humpty Dumpty.  

Yet I can't be, right?  I mean, God won't leave me smashed to smithereens, will he?  My faith says no, absolutely not - but every aching ounce of me is certain that I can't be put together again.  

I hadn't told my dear friend about this particular episode of moroseness, yet she sent me this lovely song: "Unredeemed" by Selah.  Thank you, my friend!   ♥    My achiness and I really hope it's true - and we appreciate your friendship and encouragement!!

A word that isn't

"There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys, in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless supreme. If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would only show a woman looking down at her empty arms." (Charlotte Bronte)

My heart aches. Even in the midst of keeping on keeping on, it just -- aches.  Frankly, the word ache isn't sufficient to describe it.  I know no word that truly describes it.  And I don't know if it'll ever go away.

Proverbs 30 reads, "...weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning." 

So... when is this morning they speak of?  This night has been awfully long.

Is it really always darkest before the dawn?  

My night has certainly taken a turn for the dark over these last several months.  It's not the same grief as it was seven years ago, or three years ago...   Even just a year ago, I still hoped.  Hope evened out the grief. It was a roller coaster ride, to be sure, but the hope that the next cycle might just be the one...  the next treatment might just work... maybe, just maybe I'd be a mom soon.  This hope always brought me back.  That hope is gone. 

Infertility with no hope for momdom - with no options left - is just...  well, it's a word that isn't.  There is no word to describe it: ache, grief, sorrow, pain...  they only scratch the surface.  This wordless place is one that even my dear IF friends don't understand - because they have hope.  Wonderfully so, many are even coming out the other side - with arms full.  But I realize now that fellow IFers only understand up to a point - up to the point where the road forks. 

It feels like uncharted territory here, as if I'm (not so) boldly going where no one has gone before.  Those who are still trying, oh - I truly hope and pray they never get here.  When they reach the fork in the road, I pray they take the road more traveled, one way or another - the road to momdom.  As hard as it is to be here, I don't want any of them to join me!

Yet I am grateful to not have to go it alone; Ar makes for awfully good company.  He wishes he could stop this word that isn't; I believe he'd stand and fight anyone or anything to the death to stop it - if only he could. 

Nothing seems to stop the word that isn't.  I wonder if it will ever go away?  

Even so, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in him.'"  (Lamentations 3:22-24)

The handling of the truth

I often hear people say that, now that they have kids, they realize that nothing before kids really mattered... that being a mom is the highest calling...  that the only way one can truly know God's love is to have a child... that they never knew joy before they had kids...  that having kids makes the future worth living for.

Wow!!  Such noble and lofty sentiments.  But is that all true?

Is it true that we can only know God's love through giving birth and raising a child?

Can we never know joy, unless we are mothers?

Is the childless life not worth living?

If all this is true, then I am destined to a life that forever falls short - and there's just nothing I can do about it.  Well, except have kids...  which, um, is a no can do.  Such a vicious cycle. No wonder so many of us feel so inadequate, disconnected, depressed, and anxious....

But aren't they just beautiful lies that distract from truth?   (Just like the uglier lies about how awful kids are.... yep, when you're IF, you hear it all.)

I tend to fall more for the beautiful lies, though I strive to remember that the good is the enemy of the best....

The truth is probably in between the ugly and the beautiful.  In any case, parenthood is a challenging blessing!  It is also quite obviously lovely and vital, and I wish - like crazy - we could have kids together, Ar and me.

However, despite my inability, and despite what my feelings may try to convince me, the truthiest truth is that knowing God's love is not limited by fertility, joy is still attainable - and my future is still worth living for.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."  (Jeremiah 29:11)

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."  (John 10:10)


"May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit."  (Romans 15:13)

^"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law."  (Galatians 5:22-23)

But can I handle the truth?

To blog or not to blog

I don't know why I'm still blogging here.  I'm wondering if it's time to stop?  After all, my IF journey is essentially over - at least the part where I try to beat it is over.  I will take my last dose of Clomid tonight and maybe, just maybe.... but I really don't think so.  We have no ability to continue with any more IF treatment, and the chance of anything happening on our own is essentially nil.  So maybe it's time to move on, stop thinking about it - and stop writing about it.  I don't even know that anyone really reads it, or cares about any of this, anyhow - I could just go holler into a hole in the ground if I need to vent.   I feel so disconnected. 

Maybe I should stop reading IF pages, too - and maybe I should drop out of IF groups.  Maybe I should just try to forget, you know?  (My good memory is a blessing and a curse!)   I guess I'm just wondering if it is all helping or hurting at this point - it has helped, but is it still?  I really don't know - I do know that I feel disconnected and STUCK!!!  Stuck in a really big way. 

I really wish I could quit my job, so Ar and I could travel together working the business.  We could be together, we could increase the business because he wouldn't be tied down by me - since I'd be with him....  We could escape these cold winters that I'm not sure I can deal with anymore.  We could be free!!

After all, how many times have I been told how lucky I am to be childless... If I had a dollar for every time I heard something like that, I could probably fund a few IVFs and maybe have a kid...  A dollar for every time I've heard of the trials and tribulations of parenting - it's just so horrible, apparently.  Contrast that to us lucky childless couples, who can sleep all day long, travel the world, be irresponsible - and who have money to burn.  Ooowee - yes, indeedy - I feel so incredibly lucky!!!  I'm feeling so good, I think I'll even go throw a few more stacks of hundred dollar bills into my solid gold fireplace, and then wash my hair in champagne and let it dry by my cash fire, while my servants feed me bon-bons.  Yep, life is good!!

Despite my dripping sarcasm, I do still believe life is good.  It's a gift that I'm so grateful for, despite how far from hoped for this journey has taken us. Childlessness will never have been my choice, but I do have to choose...  choose to keep living.   I just have to somehow get unstuck from this crushing and bitter black hole - that's all.  That shouldn't be too hard, right?

So... anyone want to give me a shove? 

It's not easy for me this year, but....

A Grateful Heart

Thou hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more - a grateful heart;
Not thankful when it pleaseth me,
As if Thy blessings had spare days,
But such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise.
(George Herbert)

 

Happy Thanksgiving!!

Here we go again...

For as much as I absolutely adore Rich Mullins music.... and for as much as I could listen to Chris Rice sing classic hymns all day long....  I gotta tell ya, I love me some good ole 80s' hair bands!   Oooh - yeah - give me a good rock ballad and I'm a very happy HJ!   Well, this evening what's come to mind is a little Whitesnake:

I don't know where I'm going, but I sure know where I've been

Hanging on the promises in the songs of yesterday

And I've made up my mind

I ain't wasting no more time

So here I go again - here I go again

Though I keep searching for an answer

I never seem to find what I'm looking for

Oh Lord, I pray you give me strength to carry on

'Cause I know what it means

To walk along the lonely street of dreams...

You're lucky you're only reading me writing these words, because I'm actually belting them out.  Man, I should have gone into the hair band business....  I wonder if it's too late?   What I lack in actual talent, I more than make up for in lung capacity and enthusiasm - and hair. 

I'm telling ya, I missed my calling..... 

Anyhow, this song is on my mind because... well, here we go again.  Ar and I talked things over and decided to do the next round of Clomid, starting Wednesday.  Clomid makes me feel crazy - really, really crazy.  Ar is actually a bit concerned about what all these drugs have been doing to my body...  but.  But we so want to have a child together... and we have another round of Clomid.  So, Wednesday, CD 5, it is: start on the Clomid, combined with timed sex.  The chances remain very small.  We've been down this road before.  In fact, doing this is actually going backwards, treatment wise - but we can't go forward. IVF just isn't an option for us.  Though Clomid makes me crazy, I'm so grateful for the opportunity.  

Besides, I do still know that every day holds the possibility of a miracle.  I see miracles happen for other people, anyhow - and I do still believe in them no matter what.  After all, I know that being a child of God is a miracle, and I know that this love I have with Ar is a miracle.  I truly wish everyone could have similar miracles; I'm blessed, indeed.

It's still very difficult. 

We also talked about adoption some more last night.   We mutually agree that pursuing a domestic infant adoption is not for us - it's probably not very feasible anyhow, but we both have the same concerns about it.  Unless we stumble on someone (who knows someone etc), who decides to give their baby to adoption, this will not be a path we pursue.  I guess it's good to have established that.  This doesn't mean we wouldn't consider other roads to adoption, but it would probably be in a more limited fashion.  For both of us, our hearts are still most truly to conceive a child together, but we've agreed to check out some other opportunities in that limited fashion.  So that's where we are with that.  It was a good talk.

I wish I weren't so old.  Please don't  argue that point... in the scheme of things, no, 41 isn't old, and I don't feel old, but when it comes to the NFL and fertility, 41 is pretty ancient.

Holy shnikies!!!!  I just realized something: I'm the B.rett F.avre of infertility!!  I'm too old to keep pursuing this next dream, so I keep coyly hinting that I'm done, then I keep giving tearful press conferences actually saying I'm all done, then I act like a crazy person...  but it seems, despite all wisdom to the contrary, I just can't give up.  Who knew the old gunslinger and I had so much in common?   Hmm.  And does anyone else relate football to IF as much as I do? 

Oh, one other item of here I go again...  Today I again found myself in a position of having to be very honest about something related to how raw I am, IF-wise.  I wish I didn't find myself in this position so often lately. I have yet to find out if this person hates me for it.   Probably not - I certainly hope not.  So far I do seem to have lost one friendship out of this honesty, even though I truly think it was spoken with gentleness and humility about where I am and my own limitations.  I don't know if it's maturity and age that are giving me more boldness, or if it's the heartbreak of IF that's just wearing me down...  I hope maybe it's the Lord at work in me, and I hope I speak the truth in love.  In any case, I do feel better being honest about who I am and what I can do. 

This ride ain't no Tilt-a-Whirl

Tilt-a-Whirls make me shriek with a school girlish delight.  

IF does not.

Early this morning, I went ahead and POAS.  After all, it was CD 34 of a Clomid cycle and AF had not yet appeared.  I knew better, really, I did.  Aside from the fact of how incredibly smart I am and of how many times I've been down this road before, I knew better because my monthly pimple never lies.  Still, POAS is what we do, so POAS is what I did.   Of course it was a BFN.  Then I went back to sleep and woke up a couple hours later to discover AF had arrived.

I swear that AF somehow, someway just knows...  just knows and waits until one has even the smallest glimmer of hope.  Mine was pretty small, but not so small I didn't take Clomid this cycle, and then POAS on CD 34, err, make that CD 1.

I'm pretty sure I heard the sound of evil laughter in the background.

But I haven't even cried yet this time.  Maybe I'm all cried out now; maybe there are no more tears left in me after the other night...  Two nights ago I literally sobbed into poor, wonderful Ar's chest for more than an hour, repeating one of my favorite refrains dozens of times, "It's not fair, it's just not fair..." 

How do I get off this ride? 

The agency's response

Oh yeah, I suppose I should mention the response I received from my first adoption agency inquiry:

As far as age, we do not have restrictions.  The thing to know with domestic infant is that birth mothers (and fathers) look at a family’s profile and photo books and choose them based on aspects they connect to, which we can’t predict.   The most common ones we hear are other children in home, living in city or country, and age.  Since most birth parents are late teens or early twenties, they tend to choose younger parents they feel they can relate to.

I can tell you a little bit about domestic infant adoption: most agencies have you pay to be in their “pool” of waiting parents.  We are currently not accepting any more adoptive parents into our own HOPE pool because we are just not having a great volume of birth parents.  And with too many waiting, it gets very frustrating and disappointing. 

What many of our domestic-adopting families do is get their home study done through us and then adopt through another agency—usually in states with lesser wait times, such as Florida or Texas.  (No matter what type of adoption you do, you’ll need a home study from a licensed agency in your area, such as HOPE—this is the process of social worker interviews, background checks, references, and paperwork).  But most domestic infant families are coming to us having found their own matches, whether through marketing themselves (there are webinars/resources for this) or “a friend of a friend” situation.  If you would work with another agency on the child-finding end, there are no duplication of services.

If you’d like, I can put you in contact with our social services manager if you’d like to talk to her about more options, whether other domestic infant programs we would recommend, other programs you might be interested in, or possible next steps.  I could also tell you more about the home study process, which takes about 6 months or so.  Some families begin that right away if they know they want to adopt but aren’t sure what program they are going to do. 

If you’re not sure about domestic infant, we also have a Minnesota Waiting Child adoption program, which is kids who are in the foster care system under state guardianship.  They’re usually over the age of six, maybe in a sibling group, and have significant emotional, physical or behavioral special needs. 

I wonder what it's like

That's all, really - I just wonder what on earth it's like.  What's it like to get there?  To experience even a moment of the joy and happiness, even if nervousness and fear accompanies it, let alone a lifetime of it?  What's that like?  What's it like to be excited for the future again?  What's it like to actually realize the very thing that you've hoped, prayed, and worked toward for so very long?   Funny that I no longer even wonder what it's like for it to just, you know, happen.  Like, oh - we had sex, now we're pregnant - I've stopped wondering about that a long time ago.  That seems like the stuff of urban legend.  Now I just wonder what it would be like for all this heartbreak to feel worth it.

These are just some random thoughts I started experiencing today, but I don't have the energy to expound on any of them.

I should have AF any day now, but I don't have any hope that being on the late-ish side is a good sign.  With my cycle being how it is, I'm not actually late yet, it's just that I've sometimes been earlier. 

Everything holiday related makes me want to hide.  I wish I could hibernate until spring.  I wonder what it's like to know the excitement and fun and happiness of the holidays again.

Somewhere in here, I have to make the choice to be happy with it all anyhow, but I'm tired of having to make that choice.  I'm tired of this black cloud and of X always equaling IF.  I'm tired of all the things it steals.  I'm tired of resilience.  I think I'm just going to hibernate for a long time.

Fa la la

It's so hard to believe, but the Christmas commercials are already in full force.  Another one just came on, then my heart suddenly sank about five miles. 

Last Christmas, I was so sure that we'd have a kid by this Christmas...  After all, I was starting up treatment again soon - and surely the timing was right this time, right?  Everything looked good, you know.    Instead, now it just feels like another painaversary.  Another reminder of crushed hope. 

Instead, I'm watching everyone else around me living out my hope. 

I think I'm done.  I just -  I just...  I don't know.  Why can't things be fair?  What's wrong with fair?  Barring that, I wish I could just forget that I ever wanted this. 

A little something different

Today is CD 24 of a Clomid cycle.  AF is due sometime in 5 to 7 days or so, so we'll see what happens, but I have to admit that I don't feel any hope that we achieved pregnancy.  I so appreciate having the Clomid to try, though!  I have one more month's worth, so I suppose I'll take that too, just in case.  It sure makes me feel crummy though - and slightly crazy.  Still, it's hard to not try every possibility, no matter how remote.

In other news, I did something very different today.  I felt upset and jealous and I cried - no, that's not the different part.  That part isn't very different at all, unfortunately.  I also responded to some of my friends and confessed to my jealousy, which was hard for me to do and I worried they'd hate me - but I'm glad I did it.  Apparently they don't hate me.  But that wasn't what was really different, either...  

What was really different is that I emailed a local adoption agency.  Just a very non-committal email asking when their next free info session (for infant adoption) is.  Just one little email, but it was a big step for me, nonetheless.

Honestly, the thought of trying to figure it all out...  the thought of jumping all the hurdles...  not to mention all the major big bucks - is very daunting.  I'm afraid because we don't have all the up front money needed, and because of other factors that can make a person ineligible to adopt, such as age and size.   I'm not totally sure this is the thing for us, anyhow, but my heart says to at least look into it a little bit. 

This particular agency seems a bit on the smaller side. I don't know its reputation or anything, but this was encouraging:

"We work with singles, couples, people of all ages, sizes, income levels, ethnicities and religions, people who own their homes, people who rent their homes, people who have been divorced, people who already have kids. . . Whew, have we forgotten anybody?  Remember, at HOPE there is no waiting list. You can start right away."

So... perhaps our going and getting a little info wouldn't hurt, right?   I don't know where this will go, or if it will go anywhere at all...  it was just one little email, after all, but it was significant for me. 

What I really wish is that we just knew someone, who knew someone... someone who's pregnant and looking for adoptive parents - like us!  Wouldn't that be something?  

Words that break a heart to speak

I mentioned in an earlier post that I had started back on a PCOS medication, which my RE had taken me off of because of the risk of birth defects.  I still had a few weeks worth left, so I've already been taking them again.  I'll soon need a refill though, so I ordered one online, through my pharmacy.  Not surprisingly, my general doctor's office called and left a message for me.  The nurse didn't specify their question, but I knew they would want to know why I was ordering a refill of a med I've been off of for about a year, per my RE's instructions.  Well, I did try to call back, but the hold was long...  as I was on hold I realized I really did not want to speak the words I would need to speak, in order to explain the need for a refill.  I hung up.

Instead, I went through the clinic's electronic messaging system, stating that I'm assuming their question is why I'm ordering this particular refill.  I reminded them that I'd been on it for many years because of a particularly painful (emotionally) and irritating aspect of my PCOS, and that I only went off it because of the IF treatments and risk for birth defects. I explained that in the time I've been off of the drug, my PCOS symptom (which has made me feel ugly and horrid all of my life, by the way!) has noticeably and definitely worsened in the year I've been off it, and since it appears that pregnancy will not ever be in my future, I'd at least prefer to manage my PCOS better again.

I wrote and rewrote the words, trying to find a way to not sound morose and depressed, even though I am both of those.  I couldn't find a way, and hey, it's my doctor anyhow.  She already knows I'm a problem-child, after all, so I just said it.

Still, even to my doctor, it was oddly hard to write.  Hard to talk about my PCOS symptom, which mortifies me even now, and hard to realize that I definitely no longer believe I'll have to worry about birth defects.

To quote a lovely friend, sometimes there is this "weird sense that there are some things so awful that speaking them is a kind of injury."  She's both lovely and true.  There are several aspects of IF that fall into that category: giving up on our dream, involuntary childlessness, and this PCOS symptom all fall into that category.  That they exist hurts.  To speak of them hurts even more. 

Yet I also find myself hoping that perhaps speaking the awful words (or emailing, since the thought of actually speaking them made me feel ill) will take away some of the monster's power.

I am the other

Today was another very hard day, quite frankly.  Some days I feel like I work in a daycare, though really I work in a professional non-profit health organization, with a life-saving mission.  Yadda, yadda, yadda... 

It feels like a day care.  The office is about 80% first time moms and moms of the under 10 set, 15% empty nesters/active grandparents, and 5% other.  I'm an other, of course.   So, 95% of the office just LOVES all things baby and toddler.  Of the 5% other, several are young unmarrieds, who also love the baby and toddler life, because they know they'll be moms someday.

Then there's me.

Now, I don't want to sound like a total jerk, but honestly, I don't want your kid to come trick or treating cube to cube in the office.  I also don't want to see pictures, the next day, of the cube trick or treating event that I didn't want to participate in, in the first place.  Additionally, I don't want to have to listen to the chatter about it for two days, either.  Unlike you, I don't think it was a fun event. It wasn't a fun little something different.  Truly, I don't appreciate having to deal with these things in the work place, where I have to remain professional.  (My non-professional self cries a lot, you see.)  Apparently it's okay for the moms to be unprofessional though. 

And by the way, this is not, let me repeat - NOT - a department full of mommies.  It is NOT.  Granted, perhaps it's 95% mommies... but that's not full, because I count.  Maybe not to you, but I do count, so do not say it to me, or right in front of me, that it's a department full of mommies.  It causes me to be inches away from unrestrained violence and/or uncontrollable sobbing.  Who knows which one will come out at any given unprofessional moment, but neither is acceptable, so do me a favor and just stop.  STOP!!  Okay.  This is a professional workplace.  Yes, we are real and whole people who have outside lives, but there are limits - and the mommies are constantly crossing them.  The infertiles, we cannot.  Sadness in the workplace is not acceptable.  Insensitivity (unwitting, of course) is perfectly acceptable, but sadness resulting from that insensitivity is not.

So just stop, already.

These are the things I wish I could say.

With more holidays approaching, I know it will only worsen.

Yes, it was another hard day and I am very tired.

Now, in what will seem like a drastic change of subject, but it's less so than you will think, this weekend is Ar's daughter's birthday, so we went out to celebrate tonight.  She chose one of her favorite places, which I introduced her to a few years back, because it just happens to be one of my favorite places.  It's called Moscow on the Hill, and it is amazingly delicious!!

Babushka stew = yum, yum!!  Just one of many delectables at Moscow on the Hill.

Moscow on the Hill is just a wonderful place to eat - it's beautiful and intimate.  It always reminds me of my time in Siberia, but even aside from that, it's DELICIOUS!!!  I've never had anything here that wasn't just delectable!!  It was a fun evening with Ar and his daughter!

This restaurant is also located in a lovely part of town, just down the street from the St. Paul Cathedral (and just a bit further down is the MN state Capitol.)  Ar kindly drove me down toward the Cathedral to take some pictures.  I only had my smartphone, so I couldn't get a great picture, but I did want a shot because the Cathedral building is so special to me.  I've never attended church there, mind you, but worship never has been limited to a building, has it?

See, back in my early days in MN, I used to drive past the Cathedral daily, on my way to work.  Plus, back then, I used to go to a lovely church down that way, so I'd pass it every Sunday, also.

I always loved driving past it - even though I was on the highway traveling 55/60 miles per hour.  Seeing the cross raised up so high every morning always thrilled my soul.  It was a beautiful reminder of my Savior - and that I was covered by grace, free!  A child of God!  Though truly beautiful in itself, such classic church architecture is really designed to draw thoughts and hearts to our great God.  This Cathedral does just that.  Seeing that steeple, with cross atop pointing up toward Heaven every morning... Mmm.  It surely does its job - it always reminded me of who I am, because of who He is.   

Needless to say, it was always a wonderful way to start my day, a wonderful way to reflect and remember.   It's been many years since I frequented that route.  I don't miss the commute, but I do miss those times of quiet reflection and prayer.

One of my most poignant memories about those mornings are actually from the days I couldn't see the steeple at all...  The days I couldn't see the cross.  I hated those days.

I remember the first time I couldn't see it... the morning was so foggy, so I should have had my eyes only on the road ahead, but my eyes searched for the cross - as they always did.  They searched and searched, but it was no where to be found.  I remember so well the despair I actually felt at not seeing the cross that morning.  The morning felt empty, so wrong.

As I drove past where I knew the cross should be, as disappointment and loss washed over me, suddenly there was a whisper in the ear of my ear: "Remember, HJ, remember... even if you can't see it, it's still there. It's still there, just like I'm still here - whether you see me or not." 

I hope to never forget that voice, those words.

My smartphone cam doesn't do it justice, but still... Remember, HJ, He is still here, whether I see Him or not.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you.” (Deuteronomy 31:6)

But honestly, I'm so afraid, terrified, and just plain...  put-out.  

So tired

Oh, I am tired.  Tired of being surrounded by people living out my dream. Tired of their chatter and (clueless) insensitivity.  Tired of being hurt and offended.  Tired of bravery.  Tired of faking it, but never quite making it.  Tired of grinning and bearing it.  Tired of having to schedule activities that shouldn't be scheduled.  Tired of caring so much about something that is almost certain to never be.  Tired of holding on.  Tired of not being ready to let go.  I'm just tired of all of this and so much more.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”  (Matthew 11:28-30)

From Beat It to Amazing Love

This morning, as I walked into church, I couldn't help chuckling as I became very aware that I was singing, "Beat it - just beat... beat it, beat it, beat it...."   It just seemed a funny selection as one walks into church.

By the time I walked out of church, I was singing "Amazing love, how can it be - that you my King should die for me..."  (Not the hymn, which I also love, but the more contemporary one.)


Amazing love, indeed!!


It's what happened in between those two songs that I'll write about today.

I got into church a few minutes late, so I just quietly sat in the second or third to last pew, where there was plenty of space and no one in front of me.  Ar is working this weekend, as he does most weekends, so it was just me today.  I don't actually know a single soul in this church, which is my own fault, as they have plenty of opportunities to be involved.  (I do, however, know that the pastor is a Packers fan!!)

Anyhow, as I was enjoying the worship music, "A Mighty Fortress," a family of four came and sat in front of me, rather like a hurricane...  The two little blond kids were maybe 3 or 4 (girl) and 5 or 6 (boy), I'd guess.  They were a handful from the get-go. 

Dad went immediately to singing and trying to focus on church, while mom went about trying to get the kids calmed down and organizing arts and crafts time in the pew.  Out came the sticker books and colored pencils and drawing paper... using the pew seat as a work area, so the kids were facing me.

The kids, however, would not settle into anything that quickly or quietly.  Dad quickly became quietly annoyed, giving exasperated looks at them and mom, while mom, rather frazzled, gave repeated - and super loud - SHHHHHes.  (I always find super loud SHHHing to be kind of hilariously ironic.)   Well, you can imagine that it wasn't long at all before I was really wishing I'd have sat elsewhere.  I mean that without offense.  It's just that, no matter how much one wants to focus on worship, it's a little difficult with all this ruckus right in front of you. 

Besides, it's hard, you know.  It's not like I have those sort of bittersweet feelings of, "Oh, I remember when my kids were that age..."  No, I don't have that.  What I've felt a lot of lately is jealousy, pure and simple.  So often we IFers hear the old, "Oh, you're so LUCKY!!" in response to saying we don't have kids.  So, this begs the question of, even today, even behind these little rambunctious and misbehavin' tikes, do I finally feel lucky?  Nope!!  I'd rather put up with the frustrations.

Oddly enough, while it did make me think a lot about my situation, compared to their situation, rather than being annoyed by this family, who most people would agree they would rather not sit behind, I was feeling an odd peace, even when things started landing on my feet.

Early on in the service time, the little girl was flailing around quite a bit, when suddenly I felt something hit my foot.  I didn't see anything though, so I just ignored it.  Then the girl started to scream and point.  It seems she somehow flung her little ring off her little finger and it flew all the way behind her pew, hit my foot, and was now under my pew.  She's screaming and mom looked desperate, so I picked up the ring, smiled, and gave it to the little girl.  Mom thanked me and told the little girl to thank me.  Instead, the little girl looked at me more like I somehow had stolen the ring right off her finger....  Oh well.

A little while of kiddie fun, and many very loud SHHHHs, later, little boy managed to dump his entire tin carton of colored pencils right on my feet.  What's with these kids and my feet?  Apparently that church needs pews with solid backs, rather than the partially open backs of these pews.  Well, the boy was looking very concerned about how he's going to get his pencils back.  They were literally covering my foot - some were balanced right on top of it.  The boy started to burrow under the pew, when dad yanked him back up.  Mom and dad both looked mortified, but I just smiled and picked up the pencils.  There were at least 30 pencils in this set - and some had rolled way off to the side.  I handed the tin with a bunch of the pencils in it to the dad (yes, the tin had gone w/ the pencils) and then set about picking up the stray ones.  The little boy, oh so helpfully, would exclaim (demand!), "There!  Over there - get that one too!" and so on.  His parents tried to quiet him, but he wanted to be sure I didn't miss a single one of his pencils.   I had to crouch down to get a few of them.  Well, I handed them all back to his satisfaction, while mom apologized profusely.  I told her it's no problem and gave her a friendly pat on the back.

Just a short while later, when the pastor started talking about going into a time of prayer and God knowing those things we've been praying so long for...  I suddenly found tears streaming down my face.  I kept trying to make them stop, but they didn't want to stop.  Oh, the things I've been praying and longing for.  Does He really know?  Have my prayers really made it to Him? 

Well after the service was over, as I was turning to leave and as the family was trying to get all their arts and crafts put back together, mom took the time to stop and apologize and thank me so much for my help.  I again assured her I understood and it's no problem, and just gave her another friendly little pat.  I don't normally pat strangers, mind you, but she seemed like she maybe needed it.  Couldn't we all use a friendly pat, sometimes?  Besides, wasn't having to hear my enthusiastic, but horribly off-key, singing punishment enough???

Anyhow, I found myself praying for them as I drove away.  I had taken it all in, but I wasn't annoyed by them.  I hope they can have a peaceful rest of the day. I hope that mom and dad can be on the same page and be supportive and loving to each other, I sensed that there was perhaps a lot of frustration there, instead.

Though poignant to me, this was just a small thing today.  It wasn't some major heroic effort.  I guess, it's just that...  Well, I'm really thankful that God's grace came through me today, despite myself.  That it came through despite how incredibly far from perfect a vessel I am, and that it wasn't false.  I wasn't just doing what was right on the outside, while grumbling inside.  Again, I know this was just a small, everyday occurrence for most people.  Sympathizing and helping harried moms is commonplace for many people, after all. Besides, what kind of person wouldn't return a ring and colored pencils?  I didn't do anything impressive, and I know that.  So why write this long post about it?  

It's just that, I've sometimes wondered lately if I've run out of grace... out of love, at least towards the people who have what I so long for.  I feel like I have.  After all, things feel so unfair.  What about me, you know?   When one focuses on the unfair, it's particularly easy to be irritated and judgmental, especially about the behavior of "some peoples' kids," you know.  It's probably easy for anyone to feel that way sometimes, but, well - I really am quite jealous, more so lately than ever.  Since I so painfully don't have kids, it can be quite easy for me to judge. I don't think I'm unkind to anyone outwardly, but... but that's not really grace, is it?

Jealousy and love don't really coexist well, so it doesn't speak well of me that I've been so jealous.  After all, what place does jealousy have in a life of love, grace, or peace?   Granted, I wouldn't have chosen to sit behind this harried and loud family, but in a strange way it was a blessing.  I'm thankful to know that God's grace and peace are indeed still rooted in me, despite these weeds of jealousy I've allowed to flourish.  Please Lord, yank out those weeds by the root!

Frankly, I'm not exactly sure what the lesson here is, but somehow this was a poignant morning in church, but not for the normal reasons church can be poignant.  Honestly, I couldn't tell you what the sermon was about today, and not for lack of trying.  I remember words like "slavery" and "freedom" and "sin," but that's about all I can tell you.   Maybe it was about, as my dear old friend Ron would reply to his parents questioning him about what church or Sunday School was about that day, "God, Jesus, love..."  

"I’m forgiven because You were forsaken,
I’m accepted, You were condemned.
I am alive and well, Your spirit is within me,
Because You died and rose again."

Mama never said there'd be days like these

 Actually, theoretically, today wasn't too bad.  I figured out how to make fillable PDF forms at work, after all.  That was exciting!  (I'm not being sarcastic - it was awesome!!)  After work, I had a nice little glass of wine and split a burger w/ a friend.  Then I came home to my Ar, who is so sweet and wonderful, as always.   So, what's to complain about, right?

Nothing really, but all day long I was battling a no-kids-for-me funk.  At one point I felt like I couldn't breathe. But I have to keep smiling, have to keep being cheery and helpful.  Oh - I don't know why it was so hard.  Maybe the Clomid is making me moody - it's certainly a side effect.  Or maybe it's because one colleague is just back from maternity leave this week, and another is just back from paternity leave - so there's a lot of chitter-chatter about the baby this and the baby that.

Then in our management meeting, the one who is back from maternity leave was being asked about being back - and much motherly commiserating ensued.  Who cares that it's totally inappropriate for a work-place meeting - or that it really hurts some of us, right?  Anyhow, my favorite line was from a colleague with a one year old, who said, "Coming back to work after maternity leave was the first time work felt like pure FREEDOM to me. It was great!"

So... ahem, guess who, later in the day, announced she's pregnant again - expecting in April?  

And you wonder why I get so persnickety....  I mean, sheesh, gripe without discretion about your lack of freedom, and just go ahead and get pregnant again without any problems.  Ugh.   Some of us would love to have your problems, lady. 

Well, it's just hard to not feel these constant stings.  I'm so tired of sitting back and watching everyone else living the dream.  But hey - I know to make a fillable form!!  (That really is cool, by the way!!)   

Also, I'm not entirely sure if my new food blog will be a good idea.  It may be, but it may be hard too, if I even keep it up.  Here's the thing: it may seem insignificant, but I always pictured teaching my kids to bake and cook - teaching them my (and my mom's) recipes... and the food of Ar's background.  I'd really - really - enjoy that.  I used to get to teach kids some of these things, back when I worked at camp. I loved it.  I always thought, one day... one day I'll teach my kids. 

So, the food blog may sort of fill that void.  Or it may pour lemon juice in my open wound.   

As with so many things things, I suppose time will tell.  In the meantime, I'm still struggling with figuring out whether or not I'm really real... and if I am, why? 

"For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." (Ephesians 2:8-10)

Bloaty and bloggy

Yikes!  Clomid really makes me feel bloated.  Well, the injectibles did too, I guess.  I always like to think that if I feel bloated from IF drugs, then maybe it's working.  I don't think that's necessarily true, but I do like to think it.  Along with the Clomid, I'm also taking a tablespoon of Robitussin and 1mg of melatonin.  Today is CD 9, so I only have one more dose of the Clomid.  Theoretically, I should ovulate sometime between October 29 and November 3.  We'll see.

In totally other news, I decided to start a new blog.  This one is about cooking and whatever other culinary adventures I might stumble on.  I don't know how seriously I'll take it, but I thought it would be fun to try.  Some of you have encouraged me to do something like that, so I am giving it a try.   Since I keep this blog pretty private (except from the good people of the internets...), I don't have them connected.  I'd rather keep this one by invitation only, when it comes to people in "real life," as they say.  Anyhow, if you're interested in looking at my single post on that blog, here's the address: http://heathiehove.blogspot.com/ .  It may be my one and only post ever, it may be fabulous - only time will tell!!  

I'm not sure why I posted this picture, but I just felt like it.  I look at those little guys pretty much every time I write on my blog, so I guess it made sense to let them show up in here!!  Somehow they represent Ar and me, but I'm honestly not sure which would be which...   But we sure are cute, right? 

News of the real

Yesterday I thought about stealing a very adorable little toddler boy.  He looked a little like Han, from my dream, only even younger.  It's important to emphasize that I did not, and would not.  Ah, but he was a sweetie!!   Do (fertile) parents realize how incredibly blessed they are, I wonder.  I just hear so much complaining, so it's hard to know -  but I really hope they do realize it.    

Also yesterday, CD 6, I started taking Clomid - 150mg.  It's leftover Clomid, which I'm not taking under doctor's supervision.  I'm grateful to have some leftover Clomid, even if the next logical step - for someone who had the wherewithal, which we don't - would be IVF.  I figure something is better than nothing, right?  Clomid is what I have, so Clomid is what I'll try - again.  I've previously done 8 (obviously unsuccessful)  rounds of Clomid, so I know how I respond (or don't) to it.  The best response I had was at the 150 mg dose, but - lest anyone worry - I'm seriously under virtually no risk of hyper-stimulating. 

I'm not sharing this news with my IF groups because... well, I don't know.   It kinda feels weird not to, but mostly it seems so silly for me to start taking Clomid at this stage in the game.   Such wonderful things are happening for so many of the group; somehow it just seems silly to even bother mentioning this.  Admittedly, I've also started to perceive that IVF is the only treatment that seems to really matter in the IF world - that you're not really a veteran IFer until you do that.  I don't agree with that, of course, but I'm obviously feeling that vibe enough to not share - except to those trusted few of you who also read my blog, of course.  In any case, I'm taking it and am so very glad to have it! My options are so limited, I guess I just want to pursue any options that I do have.   Even if I am getting left in the dust, I'll keep crawling along as best I can.

But I do promise to not steal any children - no matter how cute they are, or how adequate of parents I think Ar and I would make.  I do so like to keep expectations low, you see, but honestly, I really do think we'd be okay, ya know.  I just wish we had the chance to find out for real.  Then again, what's real anyhow?  Sometimes lately I don't even feel real.  Isn't that weird?  Am I real?  

Well, I'm not sure if I am real or not, but if the scale is to be believed, I'm very much real.  Otherwise, I'm the heaviest imaginary person ever!!  On the weight loss front, I have lost no weight over the last two weeks.  Hey - I'm pretty awesome at segues, aren't I?  That was a pretty sweet one!! You might be interested to know that I almost spelled that as segway, which is a whole different thing to be awesome at!!  I'm pretty sure I'm better at segues than segways.

Getting back to my weighty point, I also haven't gained any weight over the last two weeks, which is a big victory, actually.  It was two crazy weeks, including our anniversary - and so I just did the best I could without worrying too much.  I'm incredibly pleased that I didn't gain!!  This week, however, will hopefully bring a pound or two loss.  

I tried a new Weight Watchers recipe tonight; I must say, it was delicious!!  It was Shrimp Creole, which I served with brown rice and John-na Cakes (a very non-Weight Watchery variation on baking powder biscuits).   It was yummy, and we both enjoyed it very much - but the Shrimp Creole made Ar sweat...  ha ha!  Our friends always enjoy hearing that this Wisconsin girl takes the heat so much better than that cute guy from the Caribbean does!!  Then again, cute Caribbean boy takes the cold (weather) so much better than the Wisconsin girl.  What can I say, I guess we're just a riddle, wrapped up in a mystery, inside an enigma.

Well, I wish I could leave this post on that incredibly exciting high note, but unfortunately I also have sad news to share. Yesterday I attended the funeral of my former boss - and friend.  His service was full of much laughter and many tears.  Let me tell you, he was one of the really good guys!!  He made a big difference in the life of so many.  It's impossible to believe he's gone, impossible to see him like that.  He was always so full of life... it just doesn't seem right.  It was incredibly lovely, however, to talk with his son, who looks and speaks so much like he did; it was uncanny at times.  I hadn't seen his kids since they were just young kids; now they're such impressive young adults!  They are now the age that my bros and I were when our dad died.  It breaks my heart to think of all the life they will experience without this wonderful father. I am glad that they had the chance to say goodbye before he left - it's not that it makes his loss easier, but at least they hopefully won't have regrets about things left unsaid.   So...  goodbye, farewell, and amen, to a most excellent man.  

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him." (Ecclesiastes 3:11-14)

Life is but a....

A candle is burning next to me as I type tonight.  I lit it as part of the "World Wide Wave of Light," which honors pregnancy and infant loss - today is the national day of remembrance.  Having never been pregnant, I've not personally lost a pregnancy or child, but many of my dear friends have lost their beautiful little ones.  They are each in my heart, today and always.  This candle is lit for them.

 

To be very honest, a little bit this candle is lit for our losses too.  I know that, because I was never pregnant, our losses aren't actually considered losses - but the loss of that which I've never had is so incredibly real to us, to me.  Our losses never had hearts, names, or faces, but they are real losses.  There are no days for this kind of loss, though - this grief of nothingness, so I truly hope no one minds that just a little part of that candle flickers for our losses too.  

In other news, yesterday was Ar and my seventh anniversary.  We had an AMAZING time away at a resort that's just a few hours away!!!  It was purely delightful!!!  I felt like we were practically newlyweds again, only seven years more experienced - seven years more sure of each other and in our ability to weather horrific storms together - and seven years even more in love than we were back then.  It was wonderful!!!    

AF, who has never done me any favors, finally did me one.  She waited till today to come - a miracle, to be sure.  After all, she was expected early last week.  When she didn't come on time, I feared that she would come only in time to negatively impact our weekend.  Please note: being the beat down dog that I am, I never once suspected I might be pregnant.  Anyhow, I'm so thankful she didn't come till today, because our weekend just wouldn't have been quite the same.  It was a lovely and much needed get-away.

I only experienced a few moments of IF melancholy while we were away, as I was determined to set aside  our troubles and just be... together.  It's impossible to forget, of course.  Forgetting IF would be like forgetting to bring my nose with me...  

One of the melancholy moments came as we were floating on tubes down the "lazy river" at the resort's water park.  It was so relaxing that my mind just quieted... I was actually singing (to myself, luckily for the rest of the resort guests), "...merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream..."   Then the thought suddenly struck, "Is it a dream or a nightmare?"  Cheery, huh?  Sorry, but as surely as my nose really is still on my face, these thoughts do come.  As these thoughts of IF danced mockingly in my head, I remembered a quote I heard recently, “Some of us think holding on makes us strong; but sometimes it is letting go.” (Herman Hesse)

Is it time to let go of this hope?  It's never time to let go of Hope, of the Hopest of Hopes, but is it time to stop hoping to be a mom?  This is where my mind went as I floated merrily down the lazy river.   Part of me so wants to give up, because holding on this tightly hurts so very much - yet letting go feels so unacceptable.    

A little later, Ar and I talked about this, while relaxing in the jacuzzi.  It was a quiet, wet, and short talk, but I'm glad we had it.  It's important that I keep sharing my feelings with him, even though I feared I'd ruin our loveliness.  Thankfully, he's not like that - loveliness goes on.  As for what he thinks: he doesn't think it's time to let go yet, though he knows our chances are incredibly slim.  He wants me to take the lead on whether to let go or keep trying.

I may as well add that though my mind is turning to those thoughts of letting go, it also sometimes wonders if it's time to just throw all caution to the wind and find a way to get an IVF - no matter what it takes.  (Even though I can't figure out what it would actually take for us to get there...  Robbing a bank?  Growing, and selling, illegal substances in a balcony greenhouse?  Discovering the fountain of youth?  Time traveling back to when I was younger and thinner?  The possibilities are almost endless...  Harrumph!!!)   

Well, my candle is still burning bright in love and support of my friends and all their lost little ones - and yes, for our losses too. 

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; And through the rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, Nor will the flame burn you." (Isaiah 43:2)