Oddly Therapeutic.

About 2 year ago I began searching for a hobby. I am a substitute teacher that spends most of my time as a stay at home wife. I work only occasionally outside of the home, so I was looking to learn something new. My aunt is a very talented seamstress and offered to teach me a thing or two about how to work the sewing machine I had recently received for Christmas. Much to my surprise, once I learned a few basics I was set and ready to start creating.

When I first started learning to sew we were just about to start trying to get pregnant. I was dreaming of all the sweet things I would be able to start making in just a few short months for the baby that we surely would be expecting in no time. Ha.

Since then, I’ve made a gazillion baby blankets, burp cloths and booties for gifts and I find it oddly therapeutic. I know, it sounds crazy. How would making baby things make being barren any easier? Honestly, I have no idea. Maybe it is because with all of this practice, by the time I am making things for my own little growing babe I will most certainly be a pro. Or perhaps it is because throwing myself completely into the designing and creating process leaves me no time (at least for a few hours) to think about any struggle that doesn’t include thread, rotary cutters or matching fabrics.

I am thankful for the outlet.

Even Jesus Wept.

I recently purchased a book about dealing with infertility. It isn’t your typical go-to guide about treatments and diagnosis, but instead it is excerpts of people’s lives that have dealt with infertility on some level. The book is called Empty Womb, Aching Heart by Marlo Schalesky.
When I asked my husband to add this book to his order he was pained by the title. Even when he brought it home to me, he was concerned about how hard the book would be to read. As we sat on the couch, him watching TV and me reading this book, he looked over at me and questioned, “Sad?” For me this book isn’t sad, it is real. It is everything that I am dealing with on a daily basis. It is a reminder that better days will come, that we’re not alone and most importantly it is a reminder that while this journey is hard, it will only be harder if we feel sorry for ourselves and stop living our lives because it hurts too much.

I only have had this book in my hot little hands for a little more than 36 hours and I am already halfway through it. The pages are littered with post-it notes and words that I want to remember. Undoubtedly, there will be more posts to come on this topic, but for today let’s start at the beginning….

My first neon green post-it note reads:

“Even Jesus wept.”

As Christians we are taught to be thankful for the blessings that we’ve been given by the grace of God. Sometimes although we are thankful for the blessing we have received, we are pained by the ones that have seemingly gone unnoticed. In these moments I find myself feeling guilty that the gifts that I’ve been given are not enough. Like a spoiled child on Christmas morning, I run to my room sobbing that yet another month has passed and I am still not pregnant.

In this excerpt from the book the woman realizes that she isn’t crying out because she wants something so much it hurts. Instead she is crying out in grief much like Jesus did when Lazerus died. Jesus felt grief and wept even though he knew he would raise Lazerus from the dead, he still grieved the loss.

The tears of infertility are tears of grief. Our hearts are grieving the loss of children that we wanted and prayed for that haven’t come. The pain is not insignificant.

Which brings me to my second post-it note….

“I’ve come to realize that God understands my tears, and that they don’t fall to the ground unnoticed.”

He knows our pain and meets us in the midst of it.

Perfect.

There are a few IF blogs that I read pretty frequently. It is nice to read about other people who are transversing the same mountain that we are. It is good to hear where they are in the climb and how they are dealing with the conditions. In addition, there is the inspiration that comes from the tender words they write and the camaraderie that you feel just knowing that there really is someone else in your shoes.

This morning I clicked over to Growing Our Own Garden and it her post today was just what I needed to hear. It wasn't the words crafted by her that got me, it was a devotion that she shared that reminded me of the beauty that will surely come from this struggle. Someday.

He is right.

On hard days I always sit back and remember the words my husband said to me one particularly difficult day…

Someday you will be somebody’s Mommy. That doesn’t change the fact that the time between now and then will be hard, it will. It doesn’t matter if our baby is one that we make together or one that finds us. Somewhere there is a baby that needs us just as much as we need it. It will happen. Believe that it will. KNOW that it will. Stop saying maybe, and say YES.

These words make my day, bring tears to my eyes and remind me of all of the reasons that I love him. He is compassionate, loving and he gets me. Even in my most irrational moments he sits quietly and listens to my sobs whispering “someday.”

He is right.

YES, someday!

Things are lookin' up.

For the first time in six months I woke up this morning feeling great on cycle day 4. Typically I wake feeling sick to my stomach with a killer headache. Not today, there is no Clomid in my body to make me feel like death walking. I am going to enjoy this healthy feeling while I still can because I am sure once I see a RE I will be back on some sort of fertility drug in no time. Cross your fingers for my husband’s sake that it doesn’t come in the form of an injection. :)

For now, I am just hoping that I ovulate on my own this cycle so it isn’t totally lost. However, I am still ok with the fact that I probably will not. I need a break from both the physical and emotional pain and exhaustion. I am tired. I thought for sure once I reached the point in my cycle where typically I had already had some sort of intervention (drugs) I would be disappointed that I wasn’t doing something. I am not. Don’t get me wrong, I still think about it night and day, but I have a new peace about the situation, and I am not taking it for granted.

Breaks are good.

Again

Once again I find myself at cycle day one. For some reason it isn’t as hard this time. Maybe it is because I have come to expect disappointment or maybe it’s because I could see it coming, either way its here. My body feels horrible today. I am aching all over, sick to my stomach and have a headache that may or may not leave me completely blind by the end of the day.

I guess it is time, time to call my doctor. Instead of asking for my clomid, it is time to ask for a referral. I am not going to do it today; it can wait until next week.

I need a break.

An unlikely metephor.

I ran into this quote today, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. No one said it would be easy, but at least I know that it WILL be worth it. Every single tear I shed and every ounce of pain I feel...

God didn't promise days without pain, laughter without sorrow, sun without rain, but He did promise strength for the day, comfort for the tears, and light for the way.

After waking up this morning to a lower temperature than I was hoping to see, I was (and maybe still am) in a funk. I found a couple Christmas movies on TV and settled in to spend the day feeling sorry for myself. But then I read this. It reminded me to get things in perspective.

Although we’ve been waiting for what seems like a REALLY long time, there are couples who have been waiting MUCH longer. And although it hurts like crazy and is a pain that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, for me, infertility is kind of like living in Oregon. It takes months and months of rain and gray sky to make us appreciate the sun and warm spring and summer days. For us, it has been winter for over a year, but there is always the promise of spring, it WILL come. Someday.

Another one bites the dust.

Until last week I had kept our journey pretty quiet. We had told a couple of people, but for the most part they’ve been people who are pretty removed from our family. Just last week a good friend of mine (and my cousin’s sister-in-law) confided in me that her and her husband had been struggling to get pregnant and were in their first round of clomid. In an effort to lend a comforting ear and a little advice, I shared our story. It felt good to say it out loud and not have to hide how I was feeling. It also made it feel like there was purpose behind the struggle. I felt like if my heartache could help her deal with her own, it was in some tiny way worth it.

If you are or have been in this position, you know what is coming next. Yesterday, five days later, she found out that she is pregnant. Although I am thrilled for her, it still hurts just the same. Another one off to the races while I am still standing in the dust behind a locked gate, figures.

I am trying my best to stay positive. After all, this cycle isn’t even over yet. There is still a chance. A small chance, but a chance just the same. I am feeling pretty confident that the best next move is to just take a month off. I want to enjoy Christmas and not be thinking about the what-if. The reality is that I likely won’t ovulate without meds, but right now I am OK with that. Then, once the holidays are over, I might be ready to see an RE.