In the shadows

Mostly for the purposes of documentation - or really, just out of habit, I guess - since what difference do any of my cycle days matter anymore, anyhow... AF showed up today:  CD 1. Super. Why do I even have to bother with such matters, since I don't get any of the upside?  But that isn't really the point of this post, I guess.   

Shadow: Noun 
A dark area or shape produced by a body coming between rays of light and a surface.

"In the shadows" was the week four theme for my Photo 52 challenge, but come to think of it... it's really hard to believe I haven't used "In the shadows" as a blog post title before. After all, I've been living in the shadows for years now.  The fleeting, dancing shadows of motherhood...  the long, menacing shadows of childlessness.   

One set of shadows skips tauntingly further and further away from me me - no matter how fast I chase after.  The other set... well, it unrelentingly looms over me - no matter how fast I run away.

I want to be in the light, not in the shadows.  I want to make shadows... I want to make beautiful, silly, dancing shadows.

Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward.  (Psalm 127:3)

A reward, a reward...  a heritage and a reward.  Hmm.

To be perfectly honest, the subject of fertility and infertility in the Bible is a rather confusing and difficult one to tackle.  Here, I'm living in the shadows of 90-somethings giving birth for the first time, not to mention wombs being closed... and opened - those who prayed fervently enough for long enough, and their womb was opened. Double hmm.

Now I understand that the promises to barren women in the Bible were promises to those particular couples - not all infertile couples - but it still makes ya wonder.  I mean, does God personally choose each womb to open or close?  He opened Leah's womb because Jacob didn't love her.  Perhaps Ar just loves me too much...  but wait, Rachel - greatly loved by Jacob - ended up having a kid too...  So perhaps I need to actually utter the words of Rachel, “Give me children, or I’ll die!” (Genesis 29)  Is that the winning formula?

Oh yes, there are so many shifting shadows, and I have been running to or from them for an awfully long time now. 

It's all so capricious, fertility. It's certainly not limited to only those who pray and have faith. It's not limited to those who make for good mothers. It's not limited to those who are capable of great love. It's not limited to those who have husbands - or even men at all - in their lives. It's not limited to people who want to have children.  It's not limited at all.  Unless it is.

I know now that shadows cannot be trusted - neither the beautiful, fun shadows - nor the long, menacing ones. I can't even always figure out what is making the shadow or where the light is coming from. Is the shadow bigger or smaller than its source?  If the source moves just a little, it changes everything. It's really not a great place, this living amongst the shadows.  I'm tired of running to and from. I just want to make beautiful shadows! 

Oh, but then I remember that light is the active ingredient in the making of shadows, so I must remember that it's more important to dwell in the right light, and rest in the right shadow. Maybe I could use a little rest. I really am so very tired. 

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress my God, in whom I trust.”  Surely he will save you from the fowler’s snare and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday." (Psalm 91)

Week 4 of Photo 52: In the shadows

A new look

To my dear and very few readers, yes - you're in the right place.  I just felt like giving my blog a whole new - hopefully fresh - look.  I absolutely love my green iguana photo (above).  He lives on the little rock of Utila (Bay Islands of Honduras), and it was such a delight to be able to get such a photo of him. I debated whether to use him or one of my owl photos for the blog.  After all, I really love owls, as many of you know, so it was a tough call.

Actually, I'd like to point out that I loved owls before it became trendy to love owls, over these last few years.  Nowadays, cute owl things are everywhere, which is nice, but I want it known that I loved them before...  Who knows, perhaps I even started the trend.  Anyhow, my fascination with them started several years ago when we had some owl visitors in our backyard.  In fact, our owl visitor is the reason I have my current camera.  We really wanted some nice photos of our visitors, so we needed a better camera, with a better zoom.  There is just something so awesome about them!  

So, these two (below) were my other considerations for the blog, but I think the iguana was the right choice. Partly so because the length of the landscape orientation makes it a nice banner picture (in my opinion), but also because... well, I kinda wish I could hide out up there, like Mr. Iguana is doing.  Looks like a pretty good gig, if ya can get it.

Fun and Games

Week 3 of Photo 52: fun and games

Fun and games... aka the picture I was terrified to post.  The outcome of my week three photo is rather bleak and sad.  It doesn't exactly fit the cheery image conjured up when one thinks of fun and games. This week I struggled not with what to photograph, but with whether or not I should post what I chose.  See, I want to be liked.  I like being liked.  It would be much more likable to post a beautiful and fun photo, right?

Besides, it's not like that would be so out of character for me. After all, as most people who know me know, I do like to laugh and have fun.  A lot, actually!  What most people who know me do not know, however, is that, while my laughter and fun is genuine, so is this incredible depth of sadness and grief.  I am both fun-loving and grief-stricken, lively and despairing, jovial and...  inconsolable.

So while I love fun and games, as I pondered it as a theme, all that came to mind was...  loss.

(Are you tired of hearing me go on about grief and loss yet?  I guess I wouldn't blame you, if you were...)

Well, as a person who loves fun and games, who so very much wants kids, but can't have them... who dreams of family game nights and swinging on swings... and young laughter...  well, that makes the theme of fun and games a rather bitter one, indeed.

Ar has been encouraging me to go out and take pictures even when, and especially when, I'm feeling my worst.  So that's what I did.

Fun and games.

I strongly considered not posting it, in favor perhaps of posting a picture of one of my high points in Words with Friends...  or making Ar suffer through a game of Scrabble with me. I can guarantee I could get some awfully cute shots of Ar making some awfully funny faces, if I'd gone that direction...  Something like that would be cheerier and more relatable, after all.  The only problem would be that I really desire to be genuine in this journey - to grow through it - and what I felt was loss, pure and simple loss....

Besides, when I asked my fellow IF friends what they thought, they encouraged me to post it - and be true. In fact, one of them even informed me that art isn't depressing... it's moody.  Get me, I'm an ar-teest!! 

Just keep swimming?

How much value is there in the philosophy to "just keep swimming"?  Maybe it's too much trying.  Maybe I could just nestle down is some beautiful coral reef and sleep away my blues for a while... Sleep away my barrenness and my pain...  sleep away the harsh truth that I don't want new hopes and dreams... what I want is to be a mom, to have my husband's child.  Ahhh, but the many harsh truths would still be there when I awake, wouldn't they? 

I'm afraid that my barren womb is metastasizing to a barren heart and a barren mind and a barren soul.... barren soil.  And then what of new growth?  

Doesn't this fishy look almost exactly like me: pudgy and disgruntled - but still kinda cute...

New

Week 2 of Photo 52: new

New, new, new... what is new?  New is the theme of this week's photo challenge.  So what is new?  Initially, three thoughts came to mind - none of which I pursued.  The first was the answer my old friend O always gave when people asked him what's new, "Babies.  Babies are new."  Then he'd usually walk away chuckling, like it was the first time he ever said it... even though it was the umpteenth.  Crazy O!  He had a few other kinda O-isms like that.  For instance, if you asked him what time it is, he'd answer, "10 to."  You'd normally ask, "10 to what?"  His reply, "Tend to your own business!" and then start laughing and expect you to crack up too.  He's a good guy and you can't help but laugh at his dorky little jokes.  There was something about the consistency and delivery of them that just made it all the more lovable.  Anyhow, that was the first thing I thought of, that babies are new, per my friend O.  Hmm, yea.  Nowadays if he said that to me, I'd probably burst out in tears!  Oh well.

The second thought I had was, "There is nothing new under the sun." 

My third, and most promising, thought was, "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases.  His mercies never come to an end... they are new every morning, new every morning - great is thy faithfulness, Oh Lord, great is thy faithfulness." (Lamentations 3:22)

I like the third thought - a lot.  Lamentations 3:22 has long been one of my very favorite verses and songs.  The song has been running through my head quite a bit this week, in fact.  I even liked the idea enough that I strongly contemplated getting up and trying to photograph a sunrise.  Well, let's just say... I am so not a morning person.  If I'd managed to do so, that would have shown quite some commitment. Well, I didn't, but one of these days I'm really going to do it.

Much as I love it, the sunrise picture idea wasn't quite speaking to me in this context. Certainly not because I doubt its truth. I don't.  Even though I often don't feel or see them, I am absolutely convinced that His mercies truly are new every morning. I cling to that, even in my darkest days. It's just that I am looking for this photo challenge to be a growing and stretching journey for me, so I wanted to stretch myself to have a new thought about newness.  That struggle is good, I think.

So as I struggled in my mind with what is new other than the Lord's mercies, the realization kept hitting me that, with the exception of my marriage and friendships, nothing feels new or fresh right now.  Nothing. Everything feels like the same ole same ole, and not the same ole in a comfy cozy way like the getting raggedy heart-patterned jammy pants I'm wearing yet again. 

So I wondered about photographing what I wish were new.  Well, perhaps I should say I wondered about photographing a plan B for what I wish were new, since I don't have the choice to have my plan A, of what I most truly want to be new...  After all, having my actual dream come true is completely out of my control, and extremely unlikely.

Then the more general thought of - dreaming new dreams - came to mind.  As I've been writing about lately, I know I need to try to move forward, to cross that threshold that I don't want to cross. I guess maybe that means I need to try to dream new dreams. I don't have new dreams, but maybe they can grow. I at least need to hope that, though I can't grow and nurture life in the way the great majority of women are so blessed to do, that there can still be growth in me.  I need to trust that I'm not dead yet.

After a particularly heartbreaking year, here's to finding new hope and new dreams - new growth - even amidst such loss. None of it is very clear yet, but if the Reverend Mother says I have to look for my life, look for my life I will!

When I thought about what would represent these new hopes and potential, all I could think of was a little plant... fresh and young and full of potential.  It's not very original, I suppose, and a dear friend even told me it was not a very good idea because plants die - and if the plant represents my new dreams and growth, a dead plant would be pretty depressing.  True enough, but one of the beauties of photography is that the moment it captures lives forever.  A photo, like a song or a scent, can bring you immediately back to a time and a place.... a feeling...  like so few other things can.

Well, I do hope our new plant lasts a long time, but either way, I have this photo to remember that I hope for new hope.  I hope for new dreams.  I hope for new growth.  I hope that unbelievable heartbreak can be redeemed.  

Thing is....  it turns out that hoping for new hopes and dreams is a quite heart-wrenching experience in itself.  To be perfectly honest, I really rather prefer my old hopes and dreams.

Crossing thresholds

Thanks to a lovely friend - the same one who got me involved in the photo challenge I did in the month of December - I am embarking on another photo challenge.  This one is a 52 week challenge, so one photo a week for all of 2013.  I'm so excited to do this, and very much enjoyed the experience of doing the December one.  Besides, as my lovely friend said, a year through the camera could do me some good.  I agree!

This first week's theme was crossing thresholds.  As usual, I struggled with what to do...  not because I didn't have ideas, but because I'm often rather sad, as any of you who read my blog have probably figured out by now.  (Doesn't take a Dr. Freud to call that one, right?)  When I think of crossing thresholds, I picture beauty and excitement and promise.  Yet that image doesn't jive with the threshold I see before me.  I do not wish to cross this threshold before me.

One small problem I had with the December photo challenge was that it seemed everyone made everything look so beautiful - so perfect. Hardly seems like a problem right?  Capturing beauty is obviously one of the lovely things about photography - and Christmas certainly is a beautiful time of year to capture.   Oh, but all these depictions of beautifully perfect family and home life.  Sometimes it hardly seemed real, but it was beautiful and I wanted it.  Kind of like Captains Kirk and Picard in the Nexus (Star Trek: Generations.  Yes, I am a nerd.)

No one's life is perfect, though, of course, but seeing some of the pictures people posted often gave me that old familiar twinge....    I wished I had the beauty presented before me, and the skills to capture it.

I wished I had adorable babies and children to pose and capture their preciousness.

But all I have is my oh so incredibly far from perfect life.  Yet there are glimpses of perfect beauty even within such dreadful imperfection.  There really is, and I'm so grateful for them.   Maybe they're made even more beautiful because of the surrounding dreadfulness.  In any case, they are perhaps a bit more difficult to capture in photos.  And I do so want the beautifully perfect life I see in others' photos.

Sometimes I wonder about the concept of the beauty of imperfection.   As a very small example, I prefer my food homey - not gourmet.  My food seldom ends up looking perfectly beautiful, like in the magazines - but I think it's all the more beautiful as it is.

So... could I start to see my life the way I see my cooking?  I never wish the food I prepare looked more perfect - never!  I truly prefer my homeyness.  It's so real.  And real is so delicious.  Can I transfer that to my life?   Perhaps that's what I was thinking when I recently picked up this new plaque (above).

Well, I honestly don't know, but I do know that today in church a couple and their beautiful baby came in and sat in front of me.  I could barely take my eyes off the child.  The father was doting on this baby like nobody's business.

And....  oh how I want that.  And... oh why can't I have that?

The melancholy settled over me like a wet blanket.  I prayed and prayed, but it seemed to just wrap itself tighter around me.

I keep thinking I'm on the threshold of letting go, of truly and finally laying this all on the alter... and sometimes I am pretty sure I've done just that, but then....   

X always equals infertility.  

Even if I could truly and finally let go, when will it let go of me?

After all, I didn't start out with the melancholies this morning...  I felt quite pleasant. I had a lovely day yesterday, getting lost and taking pictures...  seeking something that would depict this threshold of mine, this threshold less crossed...  this threshold I have no desire to cross...  this threshold I know I must cross. It's a little nebulous in my mind still, but this is what I sought.  Truly, I delighted in getting lost.  I hiked around and got my feet wet with snow... I huffed and puffed up some hills.  I breathed. I saw great beauty and felt contentment and peace, even in my constant sense of loss.

Yet the sight of one precious baby and her doting father brought the melancholies on me in a rather big way.

The threshold less crossed...