Christmas

I've worked so hard to make Christmas amazing this year. I started my shopping in October, and for the most part, I was finished before Dec. 1. This year my homemade gifts were finished 2 WEEKS before Christmas instead of 5 hours before Christmas morning. I thought of the PERFECT gift for my husband and when I realized I wouldn't be able to find it, I instead started to buy EVERYTHING for him that I could think of. (Except a gun, I can't pick that out by myself and he is saving his Santa money for one on his own.) I have presents hidden in my house, my in-laws house and at work. Now I just need to sort them into Christmas gifts and Birthday presents and get them all wrapped. I worked hard on my own list and set Josh up his own checking account so he could surprise me this year. I even bought myself one gift and opened it last night because I just can't bear the excitement much longer. Josh doesn't care for Christmas music, but that hasn't stopped me from listening to it at work and on my iPod. I am determined that this will be the best Christmas we've had in years.

So why am I in tears today?

Because this was supposed to be the best Christmas ever. So many years of hoping. So many years of saying "Maybe next year we will have a baby." Last year we were finally able to say, "This is our last year just the two of us." Last year was exciting, mostly because we were already thinking about this year.

I've tried so hard to not think about it. I've watched Josh play Santa and I've tried to forget that this years Christmas card was going to be him dressed as Santa with me and our baby sitting on his lap. Each time I've bought a present, I've tried to not think about what I'd rather be buying. I actually thought I saw two babies at my moms house during her dinner, but then I blinked and realized there was only my nephew.

I've tried to forget that our baby would be six months old now. When we first learned the due date, we immediately counted six months. Josh's family went though the temple on his birthday. It was the most amazing day ever. We were hoping that we could choose that as our sealing date.

I think that is why I have worked so hard on Christmas this year. So I can forget about the Christmas we had hoped for.

Baby Dream

I had a dream the other night that has really bothered me.

In my dream I was playing with a baby and his diaper got real dirty, as in it was leaking every where dirty. I looked around for someone to change it, but I couldn't find anyone. So I changed the diaper myself. Just as I finished a women came in and started yelling at me for changing her baby's diaper. I tried to explain it was leaking and how I didn't want him to get diaper rash, but she just kept yelling at me, "This isn't your baby!" Then later in my dream I was playing with a baby. I would grab his toes and he would giggle. Then he would grab his own toes and giggle some more. We played this game for quite a while. Then the same thing happened. A group of people came in and started yelling at me for playing with a baby that wasn't mine. They just kept yelling "This isn't your baby."

The haunted pink room

Our home has three bedrooms; the master bedroom, the back room and the pink room. The back room is the smallest. For years it has doubled as my craft room and Josh's whatever room (i.e. hunting stuff, reloading stuff, etc.). I've tried to draw a line in that room to keep my side clean from his clutter. I've asked him to not put stuff on my shelf or table. My side stays somewhat organized. His side is a mess that slowly grows and finds its way to my side.

The pink room was just kind of dubbed the baby room, even though we have always called it the pink room. For years it has been a kind of, but not really nursery, and a overflow for when the back room gets full. At times it has been set up as a nursery with the pack and play, the swing, and the high chair set up. At other times those have been folded up and literally stuffed into the closet (they are too big, the closet doesn't close when they are in there). The pack and play has been used maybe 5 times in the four years we have owned it on the rare occasion that I was asked to babysit. And even then, once the mother brought her own pack and play with her. The swing has never been used, at least not for a baby. There have been lonely time where I would go in there and just turn it on and pretend. The high chair has gotten a little bit more use, but even then, not really. I'm tired of storing these items. I'm tired of having a room I don't use.

So its time to go in and knock down the cobwebs (both literal and imagined). But when I go in there, all I do is cry. Cry for what never was. Cry for what almost was. Cry for what most likely will never be. I've decided the room is haunted.

I went in tonight to start to gather a few things that I am donating to a friend for her Christmas Project to provide items to the women's shelter. A few years ago another friend gave me a HUGE garbage bag full of baby boy clothes. I thought I'd start by adding them to my donation pile. That was easy. Then I started going through the stuff I bought. The little boy and little girl outfits I bought because I was in the baby section buying something for a gift for someone else and I just couldn't leave without buying something for me.

And the blankets, oh the blankets I hold so tenderly in my heart. The first one is a cow one that I looked FOREVER for when we first decided to adopt. At that point we were thinking of just looking for a little boy and I was determined to decorate the room (which we would paint blue) in little farm animals. I looked all over the web and couldn't find anything I liked. So then I started looking at fabrics so I could have bedding custom made. Then one day on Ebay, I found it. It was PERFECT. When I got it, I set it up in the Pack and Play just so I could see it every time I went in the room.

Then when we were approved to adopt and our profile was published I bought matching John Deere Blankets in green and pink to celebrate. I bought the green one first on Ebay, but then I decided I needed a pink one too for just in case. (By that time we had decided to be open to any gender). The green blanket came with a little matching pillow. When the seller listed the pink set, it included a small receiving blanket along with the quilt and pillow. I emailed the seller and told them my situation and asked for if it would be possible to get a matching green receiving blanket. They told me if I was the winning bidder on the pink set, they would throw in the green blanket also. I was so excited about those blanket sets!  But they just sit in a box unopened and unused.

I am determined to get this room cleaned up and move my craft stuff into there. I would love to do it NOW but between the emotions and the pressure to finish up my Christmas projects it will probably have to wait. But I want to get it done just so I can get it over with. I've held on to this stuff to long. That's all it is anymore, just stuff. Stuff that seems to be holding me in a place I no longer want to be. I'm ready for the freedom that will come by letting go. In a book I am reading about infertility and moving on it said something to the effect of, as long as there is hope, there will also be pain. I completely agree. I'm ready for my life to move on.

Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

One of my dearest friends shared this excerpt with me from "Spoken From the Heart" by Laura Bush

"For some years now, the wedding invitations that had once crowded the mailbox had been replaced by shower invites and pink-or-blue-beribboned baby announcements. I bought onesies or rattles, wrapped them in yellow paper, and delivered them to friends. I had done it with a happy wistfulness, believing that someday my time, my baby, would come. George and I had hoped that I would be pregnant by the end of his congressional run. Then we hoped it would be by the time his own father announced his presidential run, then by the presidential primaries, the convention, the general election. But each milestone came and went. The calendar advanced, and there was no baby.

The English language lacks the words to mourn an absence. For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend, we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful some not. Still we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only “I’m sorry for your loss.” But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held? "

Source: Spoken From The Heart By Laura Bush

Thanks for sharing this with me Beth!

Miscarriage vs. Unchosen

In a way, I used to be grateful I couldn't get pregnant. Because if I couldn't get pregnant, at least I would never have to endure the heartache of a miscarriage. Before we got Josh's results back, I lived in fear that I would find out I was pregnant, only to later miscarry. My periods are never regular, and even though I would remind myself of that, each time I would think "but what if its late this time because I really am pregnant?"

One such period was really late and then when it came it was so bad I was convinced I was miscarrying. It was so horrible. I won't share the details because they are kind of gross, but it seemed so real. One thing I need to learn is that my periods are never on time, never normal and most defiantly never the same.

That is why, in its own way, Josh's results were somewhat of a relief. I have never been pregnant which means I have never miscarried. I used to pray and thank God that I couldn't miscarry. I couldn't get pregnant, but at least I would never have to mourn the loss of a child through miscarriage.

Then I realized, I was an expectant mother and I lost a baby. I know its not the same as a miscarriage, but it feels like it to me. There was a baby that was going to become a part of our family. We had a name picked out and we were just starting to pick out nursery items when we lost our baby. So many hopes and dreams were finally coming true.

Its so hard to loose a baby. It hurts so much. After so many years of waiting we were finally living the joy of expectant parenthood. My husband told me daily that I was glowing and I knew he was right because he was glowing too. I learned that expecting a baby is the highest of high, head in the clouds, kind of happiness. And losing a baby is the lowest and deepest hurt of all hurts.

One of the hardest parts of a miscarriage is the silent mourning. No one seems to understand just how hard it is. They try to reason that there wasn't actually a baby so how can there be a loss. That is something which haunts me the most. I lost a baby! Couldn't some of the closest people in my life acknowledge my loss and how hard it was on me? Their feelings seem to be "just get pregnant again" or "just get back out there and try to adopt again."

It was so hard to mourn because I didn't have some thing physical to direct my grief towards, like a funeral and a monument like mourners have when they loose a loved one to death. But it was so real. I loved that little baby. I had no control to keep her in my life. And there is no way to replace that specific baby. If your husband dies, you don't just go out and marry the first man you meet so you can replace him. Even if you find another man, fall in love and get married, it doesn't replace the your first husband. It is the same when it comes to a miscarriage. You can't just have another baby, that doesn't replace the one you loss. You could have 10 babies, but they all still couldn't replace the loss of the one you lost. There is a hole that will never fully heal in my heart because of my loss.

Now each time I hear of a friend miscarrying, my heart cries out in anguish, because I know how real that loss is, how much it hurts, how devastating it feels. When I try to find the right words of comfort, I realize, there are no words that can be said to make this all better. But I still try because I have to. I have to let them know how I hate that it happened to them and how unfair it seems. I have to let them know I love them and care for them.

Miscarriages are real. And loosing a baby is so painful, so hard.

Waiting for the wind

A dear friend and I were emailing back and forth yesterday about National Adoption Month which of course led to talking about being unchosen. She also has felt the pain of loving a birth mom and her baby, only to have things change. Its a stinging pain. Its a pain that I am learning lessens with time, but still has its moments where it flames up and you feel like it might consume you. I've been focusing mostly on the good memories and rereading some beautiful emails that were my lifeline a year ago. But its so hard to stop the reminiscing there; its hard to remember just the good parts of a story that has a sad ending. But I digress.

In our conversing, my friend said something that I really liked and I wanted to post it so I don't forget it.

"Play it by day by day and see how you feel. You'll either get a 2nd wind to jump in again...or you'll feel the wind blowing you somewhere else. Either way, everything turns out all right in the end."

That is exactly how I feel right now. The wind isn't really blowing me towards adoption right now, but it also isn't really blowing me away from it either.

A year ago...

A year ago we got an email. At first I thought it was simply another scam. We had seen plenty of those. I was at work when I saw it, so I called Josh to tell him about it. I remember telling him, "Its probably just another scam, but we got an email from Parent Profiles." She had mentioned her due date and in my rush to prove it a scam I did the math, and it was off. But then I decided to turn the calendar to the due date and count backwards 40 weeks. The math was on perfectly. After that I started to hope.

After calming myself for a minute, I sent an email back. Then very impatiently, I waited for a reply. Each hour felt like a week! Finally after 5 LONG hours, I got a reply back from Parent Profiles. Apparently you don't send replies through them. You have to click on the email address from the sender instead of just hitting reply. So I had to send the message again.

After that it just seemed to be a whirlwind of emails. An unbelievable dream. We had finally met someone! She was beautiful and kind and perfect.

A year ago was one of the happiest days of my life. Which really was perfect because a year and a week ago was one of the worst days of my life. C helped me through a hard time. C gave me hope again. C's emails meant the world to me.

Today I'm not going to think about our sad ending. Today I am going to think of the happy beginning and how it changed my life. Today is going to be a good day because a year ago I had a good day. :)

Birds and Bees can't always make babies

Go HERE to learn more.

I'm still here

To post or not to post, that has been the dilemma. I start a post and then it becomes too personal so I end up putting it in my journal instead.

So I guess the short version is: most days are fine. For the most part, I am at peace. But infertility is not something you can ever recover from or get over, so that means I still have bad days. I will always have bad days. The problem is I only feel like posting on those bad days, but after writing out my feelings I can't share it.

I think of the "what if" occasionally, but not obsessively like I used to. The first Sunday in church after the baby was born all I could think was "I shouldn't be here." And it was so frustrating because no one knew. The next day I had to celebrate a birth, all the time knowing that the baby I had dreamt about was being placed in the arms of another couple. I hate how infertility makes you plaster on a happy face and pretend like nothing is wrong, even when you feel your heart breaking inside.

Now my thought only dwell on the "what if" when things are brought to my attention, so I avoid those situations. Some may call in denial (and they might be right), but I call it self preservation. I know what I can and can't handle and I don't push myself past that point. Its hard to establish that point, because it affects others, but I've decided my own sanity is more important then what they think of me.

A while back I realized that adoption is no longer my heart, at least not like it used to be. Adoption is a part of my heart, but not my entire heart anymore. I'm not sure what that means for our future. For now, we are okay with how things are. We're not sure what the future holds, but we are not going to worry about it. Our new motto is "Find joy in the journey...now."

Am I happy? Yes, I am. Josh and I have been able to take a great relationship and make it even better. Our family may be small, but we are still a family and we try to celebrate that every day. Each day I am amazed at how much our love has grown. Next month marks our 12th anniversary since our first date. Every day he amazes me. Because of him, my heart is full.

What if?

This year, Josh and I decided we would not attend the Families Supporting Adoption Conference. We have attended the last three years, and have loved it each year, but each year we've always thought, "next year we won't still be looking."

I thought I would miss it. I thought Friday morning I would wake up in a panic, pack a bag, head out to Layton and hope to find a hotel to stay in. But Friday came, and that panic did not set in. Sure, I missed it, but mostly I just missed the friends I have made there. The friends I met last year and planned to meet again this year. The friends I have made on-line this last year and hoped to meet in person while there this year.

We have reached a new level of peace in our family building. We are okay with how things are. Feeling like I could miss conference has just helped add to the peace I have found lately.

Two months ago I started a blog post, but it never got past the draft stages. Here is part of it:

"I'm tired. I'm broken. For now, I am done.

Done with the waiting. Done with the hoping. Done with the looking."

Most days I still feel broken. But that's because I am. My body doesn't work. As a woman, I'm designed to create babies, but my body won't let me. I guess because of that, I will always be broken. Infertility will always be a part of me. I have fought against it for years, but its something I will never be able to change. There are dreams that will never come true.

Some days, I feel the same about adoption. All the waiting. All the hoping. All the heartache. All the unanswered questions and unanswered prayers.

I'm tired. Tired of waiting. Tired of hoping. Tired of the unknown. Tired of the things I can't control or change.

A few months ago, we took on a new outlook on life. What if we never become parents? What if we are wasting all this time on something that may never happen. What if we loose ourselves so completely in the waiting game, that we loose each other? What about all the other stuff we've wanted to do with our lives? Things we can do now.

So what if we never become parents? Is that so bad? We married because we loved each other. That has never changed. We didn't marry each other because we thought we would make beautiful babies. We married because we wanted to spend the rest of eternity with each other.

What does all of this mean about our future family building? I'm not sure yet. I just know I am ready to start living a new way. I want to enjoy each moment. Not spend each moment going, "Nope, can't do/spend/plan that because what if we get chosen?" If it is going to be just the two of us, then we are going to live it the best way we can.

Glad June is over

I wish I could find the right words to express the feelings in my heart. Some days are good. In fact, I seem to have more good days then bad days now. But I still have those sad days. Days where I feel like I cry non stop. Sometimes I don't even know why I am crying.

I was so glad when June ended. What a horrid month, I don't think I will ever enjoy that month ever again.

Its become hard to post on this blog. I only feel like posting when I am down. I don't want this blog to become a depressing blog.

If they only knew

So hard for so many reasons. It just seems to surround me from every direction. I'm sure right now I must act like the most uncaring person, but why can't they see my pain? Why do they ignore me when this is the most painful thing I have ever gone through? I fear I will suffocate from all of it and they won't even notice I'm gone. They ignore my pain and in my anger, I push away from their happiness. They don't want me. My unhappiness is a burden to them.

And yet a ray of love from an unexpected direction. Of all the people to take notice of me right now, she was the last person I expected. Which just further proves, she really is an amazing person. I can't believe that while her own heart is breaking, she would think of me.

At least I have my husband. My friend. My protector. My everything. Without him by my side, I would be totally lost. He is the reason I live each day the best I can, even when my best is so little.

I thought after it all happened, it would start to get better.

Waiting for the end

I keep rewritting this post. I want to share my emotions, but then I don't. So here is the short version.

I know I haven't posted much here for a while. There just isn't much to say. I still feel devastated that I won't be a mom this summer. I still don't understand what we did wrong. I don't understand how we could meet someone so wonderful, and then only have her in our life for such a short time.

Crying has become a way of life for me, a daily part of my life. Everything makes me cry and so does all the nothingness.

I haven't blogged about my feelings much because it tends to bring out the anonymous comments. Anonymous rarely have something nice to say. They make me feel like I'm not allowed to feel such a loss. I was finally going to be a mom! After years of trying and years of waiting, the end was in sight. We had a due date and we were in love with someone. This is a loss. My pain is real.

So anonymous, before your panties get in a wad, let me try to clarify myself.

My feelings are not meant as an attack against any birth mother. My feelings are about me not becoming a mom in the near future. I still love C. I think of her often and hope she is doing well. She is an amazing young women and I am sure the adoptive family she chose are just as amazing. I know God's hand was in the choosing of the family for her little girl. I just don't understand why God wanted us in her life for such a short time. Maybe if I could find peace and understanding there, maybe I wouldn't cry so much. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much.

But on the other hand, I think by not blogging, I have given the illusion that all is fine. I can't keep pretending that all is fine. My heart is broken and I don't think it will ever heal.

There is two rungs on the ladder before I hit rock bottom, and they are coming up fast. I just hope that once I do hit bottom, I can find the strength to pick myself back up. Right now I'm just sitting on the edge waiting for it to all happen...

Anonymous, feel free to comment. I actually get a kick out of what you are willing to say since you don't have to attach your name. You have not beaten me. If you had, I would no longer accept anonymous comments, or I would make my blogs completely private. Have a nice day.

PS - I'm getting ready for a relaxing weekend. I think I'll try to stay offline this weekend. If you don't see your comment published for a few days, don't panic. I'll do that when I get back online on Monday.

The little things

My purse feel apart a few weeks ago. It had been hanging by a thread for quite some time. I loved this purse, Zipper loved to chew on this purse and that is the reason for its demise.

I can't bring myself to go buy another purse. A few months ago when I noticed its condition I decided I would tough it out until this summer. Then I would need a diaper bag and I could just carry my wallet in it.

I don't need a diaper bag anymore...

I am amazed at how the little things, like a purse, remind me that I'm not going to be a mom this summer.

We have talked about letting Ally have kittens this summer, but I didn't want to have kittens at the same time we had a baby. We think she is pregnant now and they can't come fast enough. I need a distraction and her belly isn't even growing yet.

I think about taking a day off of work and I won't because I was saving all my time for when the baby came.

I'm not even going to mention the baby shower invites.

I wish every little thing didn't remind me I'm not going to be a mom this summer.

He Lives!

Every day is a new struggle. Why did we wait so long to just be looked at? (We started the adoption process three years ago.) In September of 2009, we had the chance to visit with a young mother on the phone. I begged and pleaded with the Lord to let this work for our family, knowing the entire time that it wasn't our baby. I remember the next morning posting on Facebook, "Its still early in the morning, but already I know the answer is no, and it breaks my heart."

Why was it so clear then that that situation wouldn't work out, but why did everything with C feel so different, like it would work out? Why were we chosen, only to later be unchosen? So many questions, and still not many answers. I think I'm okay with how things turned out with C, things happen and minds change. I understand that. But now my questions are for my Heavenly Father. Why must I suffer this heart break? Why after so much yearning, am I still childless? Why did we come so close, only to be so far again?

Today, comfort came in the form of a Swaperoos gift. I was in tears before I left the Post Office.

A charm from my favorite Etsy Store.

Last year my Swaperoo partner had a failed placement. I hope it is okay with her if I share part of her message to me.

"Anyway, something I found myself clinging to last Spring was the hymn I Know That My Redeemer Lives. The lyrics got me through a lot. I knew he could take pain and grief and sorrow from me, but it is a continual process to remember to access the Atonement as you travel down your path laden with twists and turns and roller coaster rides. The first package holds something special I custom ordered for you from The R House Couture (hence the two packages...that one is coming directly from Lindsey). Before you open it, I hope you'll read through the hymn and remember that Spring/Easter is a time of new beginnings and that He lives to take away your pain, wipe your tears away, and silence all your fears. I hope you love it!"

This used to be one of my favorite hymns, I'm surprised I had forgotten it until now. On the drive home, I tried to sing it, all I could remember was most of the second verse. Here is the lyrics to the entire song if you're like me and can't remember all of it.

1.

I know that my Redeemer lives

What comfort this sweet sentence gives.

He lives, He lives who once was dead.

He lives, my ever living head.

He lives to bless me with his love.

He lives to plead for me above.

He lives my hungry soul to feed.

He lives to bless in time of need.

2.

He lives to grant me rich supply.

He lives to guide me with his eye.

He lives to comfort me when faint.

He lives to hear my souls complaint.

He lives to silence all my fears.

He lives to wipe away my tears.

He lives to calm my troubled heart.

He lives all blessings to impart.

3.

He lives, my kind, wise heavenly friend.

He lives and loves me to the end.

He lives and while he lives I'll sing.

He lives, my Prophet, Priest, and King.

He lives and grants me daily breath.

He lives, and I shall conquer death.

He lives my mansion to prepare.

He lives to bring me safely there.

4.

He lives! All glory to his name.

He lives, my Savior, still the same.

Oh sweet, the joy this sentence gives:

"I know that my Redeemer lives!"

He lives! All glory to his name.

He lives, my Savior, still the same.

Oh sweet, the joy this sentence gives:

"I know that my Redeemer lives!"

Text: Samuel Medley, 1738-1799. Included in the first LDS hymnbook, 1835.

Music: Lewis D. Edwards, 1858-1921

When I got home, I remembered a seminary lesson many years ago. This is taken from my seminary journal, November 19, 1999:

"My favorite reason 'He lives' in Hymn #136 is 'He lives to comfort me with faint." I have felt his comfort before, so real that it seemed as if i was in his lap crying and that he was there offering me support and comfort.

Here is my own verse to this hymn -

He lives to hold me when I cry.

He lives to protect me from all lies.

He lives and watches me from above.

He lives and extends me all his love."

I will admit I am weak and I've had my moments when I've wanted to be mad at God. (I will also admit how relieved I was when our caseworker told me all the feelings and emotions I am experiencing are a normal part of the grief process.) But I can't be mad at God because I know that He does live, and He does hear my souls complaint. He has comforted me and He has helped calm my troubled heart. I find it odd I only wrote half verse all those years ago. Here is how I would end it:

He lives to grant me daily peace.

He lives, helping to build my eternity.

He lives to tell me if only I could see,

The promises He holds for me.

Thanks for the gift Megan, it was perfect.

For My Broken Heart

Tuesday we were unchosen by our potential birth mom. I was at work when I got the email. I don't remember much more of that day except trying to hide the tears. On Wednesday I woke up to realize it wasn't a bad dream. I figured since the world was still turning, I might as well go to work. I made it through the day, but just barely. The most touching part of the day was when a co worker helped spread the word, so I wouldn't have to.

I don't think I can make it through another day of normalcy. We are taking the rest of the week off and are headed out of town.

Great post on Infertility

A friend of mine wrote a beautiful post about serving infertile people. It has a touching movie on it too. Go check it out on Giving What I Am.