National Infertlity Awareness Week - Bust a myth

It is National Infertility Week and RESOLVE has challenged bloggers to blog about an infertility myth. The goal behind this challenge is to help bring infertility bloggers together and to also help others learn about infertility.

I have faced many of those myths head on over the years.

"Just relax."

"You're still young."

"Just adopt."

"Just try again."

Each of those statements (along with countless others) don't actually help someone with infertility. You can't just relax and suddenly your pregnant. You can't just adopt, its not like going to the store.

But right now the myth I struggle with the most is when people imply that we are not a family if we don't have kids.

Ten years ago, on February 9, 2001, my husband and I were married for time & eternity in the Jordan River Temple. When we went there that morning, we were just two people with no lasting connection. But after that, we were husband and wife. We were officially a family. A family starts the second you are declared man and wife. It doesn't wait to start until you are pregnant. It doesn't wait and start when you hear the first heartbeat. It doesn't wait and start when your first child is born. Josh and I have been a family for 10 years. Not having children doesn't make us less of a family. We are just as much a family as anyone else, whether they have one child or twelve.

Which leads to another myth, our lives aren't complete and happy, unless we become parents.

We've always been happy, even during our struggles. But this last year has been one of the best years of our marriage. Our lives are complete. Our lives do have meaning. We aren't empty shells because we don't have children. We still enjoy things. We still have a life.

My new favorite scripture is 2 Nephi 2:25. "Adam fell that men might be; and men are, that they might have joy."

It doesn't say, men have children so they can have joy. Just simply, "men are they they might have joy."

Its okay if we choose to be happy while living a childfree life. That doesn't make us selfish. We are not forced to sit home in tears that we aren't parents. We are allowed to find new meaning in life. To experience other things.

I don't like it when people imply I have "yet" to start my family. Josh is my family. I also don't appreciate when people act like we are missing out on the world. We have a very rich and full life. I have nothing to complain about. Josh makes me happy. He completes me. If he is the only member of my family, that is okay. I find joy in that.

To learn more about RESOLVE visit HERE. To learn more about National Inferility Awareness Week visit HERE.

Breathe

A year ago, that was all I could tell myself, "just breathe".

I see you face in my mind as I drive away

'Cause none of us thought it was gonna end that way

People are people and sometimes we change our minds

But it's killing me to see you go after all this time

Music starts playin' like the of a sad movie

It's the kinda ending you don't really wanna see

'Cause its tragedy and it will only bring you down

Now I don't know what to be without you around.

And we know it's never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

And I can't breathe

Without you, but I have to

Breathe

Without you, but I have to

Never wanted this, never want to see you hurt

Every little bump in the road I tried to swerve

People are people and sometimes it doesn't work out

Nothing we say is gonna save us from the fall out

And we know its never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me

You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand

And I can't breathe

Without you, but I have to

Breathe

Without you, but I have to

Its two a.m., feelin' like I just lost a friend

Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me

Its two a.m., feelin' like I just lost a friend

Hope you know this ain't easy, easy for me

And we know its never simple, never easy

Never a clean break, no one here to save me, oh

I can't breathe

Without you, but I have to

Breathe

Without you, but I have to

Breathe

Without you, but I have to

*Lyrics found at http://www.metrolyrics.com/breathe-lyrics-taylor-swift.html

Hello World

"Well, hello world, how you been?

Good to see you, my old friend

Sometimes I feel as cold as steel

And broken like I'm never going to heal

I see a light, a little grace, a little faith unfurl

Well, hello world"

One of my New Years Resolutions is to try to find more joy in everyday life. Infertility has held me prisoner for too long. I became so caught up in my infertility that I lost everything else about me. Now I slowly feel like I am rediscovering myself. I can't be a mom, but I can still be other things.

I am a wife.

 I am an aunt.

I am a mom to too many cats.

I am a friend.

 I am a crafter.

I am a somewhat good cook.

I am a wanna be amateur photographer. 

I am a over zealous blogger.

I am someone who enjoys good company.

I am someone who enjoys reading.

I am someone who enjoys girls nights.

I am someone who loves learning new things.

I am a child of God.

I think I still have a ways to go before I feel complete and content with the life I have, but I'm enjoying my journey as I look for other ways to enjoy life.

Traffic crawls, cell phone calls

Top video screams at me through my tinted windows I see

A little girl, rust red minivan

She's got chocolate on her face, got little hands

And she waves at me, yeah, she smiles at me

Well, hello world, how you been?

Good to see you, my old friend

Sometimes I feel as cold as steel

Broken like I'm never going to heal

I see a light, a little hole, and a little girl

Well hello world

Every day I drive by a little white church

Its got these little white crosses like angels in the yard

Maybe I should stop in and say a prayer

Maybe talk to God like he is there

Oh, I know He's there, yeah, I know He's there

Well, hello world, how you been?

Good to see you, my old friend

Sometimes I feel as cold as steel

And broken like I'm never going to heal

I see a light, a little grace, a little faith unfurl

Well, hello world

Sometimes I forget what livings for and I hear my life

through my front door

And I'll be there, oh, I'm home again

I see my wife, little boy, little girl

Hello world, hello world

All the empty disappears, I remember why I'm here

Just surrender and believe, I fall down on my knees

Oh, hello world, hello world

Hello world

(Lady Antebellum "Hello world" lyrics found on http://www.songlyrics.com/)

Baby Stuff

Yesterday I sold my baby items (pack n play, high chair, bouncy chair and swing). I thought it would hurt. I thought it would make me cry. But instead it was such a freeing experience. We bought those items several years ago with such big hopes and dreams. But actually having those items didn't make our dreams come true. It was just stuff. Stuff that sat around getting dusty and not getting used. Stuff that because it was in a certain room, made me so I couldn't go into said room because I knew I would see it and I would cry. This stuff was holding me back. First it held me back from living my life. Then it held me back from finding myself. Now I feel like its holding me back from healing and peace. Sometimes its just time to let go.

I would have loved to have used it. But when I gave it to the newly expectant mom yesterday, she was so excited. I'm glad someone else gets to be excited about the stuff. Yesterday morning when I packed it in the car, I was mad that it sat there so long. Why didn't I do this sooner?

What if we become parents down the road? Well, its just stuff. Stuff that can be easily bought and replaced. But I'm not worried about that. Now I have a craft room and that makes me happy.

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.