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.