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Today I Wasted Time

I just put her down and I hear her soft, sweet, zombie-like coos over the monitor as she babbles herself to sleep. It is otherwise silent in the house. The clock was moved back last night and the world is collectively sleepier than we should be at this hour. It is dark and cozy and there is something about tonight that feels sacred.

I’ve found myself staring at her lately, even more so than usual, and today I ruined (and thus completely underutilized) a precious, rare, ever short-lived nap. Almost down to one a day now that she is about to be one year old. That birthday is why I stare at her. I stare at her and take her all in, her tiny nose, her wiggly hands, her round belly and disappearing luscious thigh rolls. I pray, “Lord, help me to remember. Help me to etch this moment into my brain, the feel of her in my arms and on my breast into my memory, her smell always on me, her soft hair as I kiss her for the thousandth time today forever on my lips.” What I really mean is, “Lord, don’t let this moment ever end. It’s all passing too quickly.” Deep down I fear I can’t handle it.

This past year has been full of those prayers. The “Lord, don’t let this moment pass” and “Lord, help me to remember, cause me to cherish every second” prayers. The “Lord, she is going off to college soon!” prayers. I prayed that one in the hospital last Thanksgiving, her first full day of life.

Like there are a thousand kisses a day to be given to my baby, there are a thousand ways I am changed by being infertile. I have written scores of blog posts in my mind over the past year and a half since becoming pregnant describing them. There is of course the hyper-vigilance and -paranoia in pregnancy. The foreign experience of being just another OB patient at the normal pregnant people doctor. What do you mean you don’t remember me from last month? The squeamishness of sharing your pregnancy with others, not wanting to hurt anyone else who may be going through infertility. And do you post delivery news or pumpkin patch photos on facebook? What if I’m contributing to the depressing news feed of an unbeknownst infertile friend? The cleaning out of hospital bills and seeing that your doctor had written in the medical record on your baby’s birth day “This was a very desired baby; she is welcomed by her parents with immense joy and they will be a great mother and father.” The laughing at your doctor’s insistence that you use contraception with a newborn. The struggle over whether you have the right to complain about the avocado stains on your pants because you wanted her so badly and moved heaven and earth to get her here. The wondering about her semi-twin, the frozen embryo and your other baby you pray and ache for from 15 miles down the road. Will he (she?) actually become a baby in my arms? The how do you answer too-soon questions about when you’ll have more children. Truly, the list goes on and those may have been helpful blogs to actually write. For me, the emotions were too overwhelming and at times confusing to share on a public blog. I have struggled with guilt over dropping off of the blogosphere and potentially hurting “friends in the computer” I had made. It just felt like too much to sort through and that work has had to be done behind closed doors with the Lord. The “I know you were there but where were you?” prayers that I don’t like to admit to but that He is answering because He is good and gracious and patient with me.

Had I really given it thought beforehand (but who has time for that amidst appointments, injections, worrying, and endless neurotic internet searching), I may have suspected some of these ways your infertility follows you even after you have a baby. What I did not anticipate is that, although she has been in my arms now for almost 365 days, I am still infertile and in some ways I can now count that as a gift (not one I ever would have chosen, mind you, or likely would choose again). Because of being infertile I am keenly aware – daily – that my daughter is a miracle and the greatest gift to have been given to me aside from Jesus and my husband. Like those gifts, I did not earn her or deserve her. The Lord did not owe her to me. I could even still be baby-less. But He did. He brought her to us and took that darkness away, and here she lies with those long eyelashes and chubby cheeks, having fallen asleep in my arms. I should go do some laundry or shower, but instead, I am washed over with gratitude and awe and stuck staring.   I’m sure every mom ruins nap times and gets nothing done just watching her baby – I realize I am nothing special. As an infertile mom maybe you let yourself do that more or maybe you just understand a bit deeper why that feeling overtakes you like it does.

I am perhaps a tad more patient, a tad more accepting of the sleeplessness, a tad more grateful for my daughter than my 26-year-old with a baby self would have been. Grateful for and swept up in those quiet, sweet sacred moments and also for the – the cloth diapers stink, poop up the back, here she goes again pulling every single book off the shelf – mundane kind of sacred moments. No, I don’t enjoy discovering there is still carrot in my hair at my husband’s fancy work event, and to be a good mom (infertile or not) I don’t have to. But I am glad that I can thank God for it. I am grateful to be grateful and, dare I say, if suffering had a role in getting me here, I also will thank God for that.

There is so much you lose being infertile and going through any kind of suffering. I still don’t understand exactly what God is up to as He allows it for a time on this earth. And I am beginning to see a tiny glimpse of what can be gained. Gratitude. Freeing yourself to waste some time and to be present and to let go of all that doesn’t matter. Finding the sacred in the mundane. Worship.

As I mentioned in at least one previous post, a song that guided me throughout infertility is called “10,000 Reasons” and it meant so much to me because it basically is a prayer that we would be grateful and praise God at the end of the day no matter what. At the end of that darkness for me was a baby, but I still pray to the Lord that I would praise Him no matter how dark it might be again in the future. That I would have praised Him had a baby never come. That I will praise Him in the sadness that likely will plague me when she actually does leave and go to college (Lord willing). I pray that I will praise and trust Him should she ever be hurt or, God forbid I speak my and every mother’s deepest fear, that I lose her. I wish I would have trusted Him more in my infertility suffering but know there is grace for that, and pray that I will trust him more deeply now.

I fear this most definitely will come across as trite, but I pray for other infertile women out there waiting, trying desperately, crying out to God, doubting, maybe reading this blog, and I implore Him that out of His goodness we all might experience and trust His love for us and that we all would be grateful to Him not for what He does for us now but for who He is and for what He ultimately has done for us.  That whether He brought me a baby or not, whether He spares her and me from all future suffering or not, He has a plan to put an end to all suffering and to redeem us and our broken bodies and this needy earth. He cares that we are suffering and wants it gone and is taking care of that. I am so thankful for that promise that I know with my mind and pray to know more deeply in my heart, and hope that I might one day value that and Him above all else, even this precious baby.

I fear I cannot handle my baby growing up – we prayed and fought so very hard for her – just like I feared I could not handle each successive step of infertility. The truth I’m beginning to see is that I can’t, and I couldn’t. Infertility has given me the gift of seeing my utter need for the Lord to breathe and have life, to physically get through each day, to have any amount of a kind heart, to be grateful. Just as He breathed life into my baby, I need Him breathing Himself into me so that I can trust Him and praise Him no matter what.   These are the sacred gifts gained as He’s redeeming the ugly suffering. Let me be singing when the evening comes.

Today I’m Drinking Dandelion Tea

Sounds good, doesn’t it?  Like it would be yellow and pretty and smell yummy.  Wrong.  It’s kind of nutty and very bitter and resembles coffee in color more than chamomile tea.  But it is one of many things I’m changing lately to try to have only healthy things flowing through my body.

We have all but decided to go forward with IVF and have a tentative start date of December 31st.  (Yay, shots, happy new year!)  We would begin initial meds (birth control, which is so odd for any infertile woman to take) mid-December and stimulation would start the last day of 2012.  I hear the stimulation phase is the most intensive of the IVF process from a time and attention perspective, including shots a few times a day to stimulate your body to grow lots of follicles and every other day ultrasounds to monitor their progress.  This growing and watching leads up to a shot triggering the ovaries to release the eggs, retrieval surgery to get those puppies out, fertilizing them, letting them grow in the incubators, and transferring back in 3-5 days.  That’s IVF in a nutshell.  Oh, and the two week wait before finding out if it all worked.

It feels exciting to be moving toward beginning but also scary.  Obviously we’re wanting to do all we can to create a baby-friendly environment, hence the dandelion root.  I have to admit that it can feel very depriving and borderline masochistic to do all of these things.  But as my co-worker recently reminded me about scaling back with work hours, all mothers have to make sacrifices for their children and I’m just getting an early start.  This angle actually does help me a good bit, legitimizing and encouraging me forward in these decisions.

So, what I’m doing lately:

  • Eliminating processed foods, including diet coke (gasp)
  • Cutting way back (if not out) dairy, sugar, and soy to prevent inflammation and hormonal spikes/imbalances
  • Dandelion root tea and/or drops 3x/day and warm lemon water every morning for liver cleansing
  • Udo’s Omega-3 oil blend, vegetarian source of DHA (also ick)
  • Being a good girl with drinking lots of water
  • Acupuncture

As a vegetarian I’m used to having a limited diet, but adding these changes on top of that was beginning to feel overly restrictive and, enter feeling sorry for myself.  But I’m beginning to, instead, focus on being creative with all that remains — which, in reality, is most really good things.  If I were doing that Thanksgiving gratitude-a-day thing on Facebook I would say: Whole Foods iPhone App.  I’ve gotten some inspiring recipes on there and it’s helpful to view my market trips as time to stock up on good things to build up and nurture my body.  Mmmm, seltzer water.  Who needs diet coke?  Okay, fake it ’til you make it.

So as we’re looking to jump on the IVF track here in a couple weeks I’m yet again struggling a bit with the balance between doing my part in it all and yet acknowledging that I can’t control this process.  I’ve even wondered if we should postpone IVF until threeish months after I’ve consistently implemented all of these changes because what goes in my body now affects eggs that will be ovulated in three months.  But then I step back and wonder about all of the people out there who make terrible health decisions, abuse substances, live on doritos and are still pregnant.  These things help but are they enough on their own?  No.  Dandelion root can’t create life.  Omega-3s can’t create life.  I’m praying for an accurate perspective right now.

I also don’t want to get in a position of blaming myself or putting all of the pressure on me to perform just right in order to become pregnant.  As I’ve said many times before, a baby is not something I can earn or make happen for myself.  I would have done it by now.  The parallels with God’s grace really can’t be overlooked here.  I couldn’t make Him love me or earn my way into a relationship with Him.  It’s just a gift.  I don’t know how all of that works and applies in this situation with a failing body, but I do want to remind myself that He gave me that best gift already and that He is the same God I’m crying out to hundreds of times a day now.  He is a God who hears and I have seen that before.

In the meantime, in all the waiting and the hard work, I’m taking pleasure in the small things, like the holiday with family, the Christmas tree being up, a fire in the fireplace, and my amazing new fuzzy slippers.

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Today’s One Line

Today it is beginning to sink in.  Just one line yesterday, no pregnancy.  We’re off to the world of IVF (we think).

There’s not a whole lot more to say at this point.  I had this moment yesterday looking in the mirror, it was so palpable and distinct that we are on a different road now.  The hard road of investing a ton of emotion, money, appointments, hope into getting pregnant.  We’ve been doing this already, but now it’s to the furthest extreme.  The hard road that doesn’t seem fair and seems at times like it will be too much to handle.  Today I’m sitting with these feelings and stepping into our new reality.

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Today I Found Pumpkin Spice Creamer

I’m beginning to worry that my readers are on to my all-too-frequent trips to Target and/or obsession with beverages.  If I can no longer hide it, then I might as well share this story with you.

I have scoured the dairy section for pumpkin spice creamer at different groceries no less than eight times the past month but with no success.  I started to feel cheated and deprived (melodrama?  I don’t think so.).  As usual the Target trip to pick up my prescriptions felt like a bummer at the end of a long workday, not to mention the disappointing reminder of getting started on these meds yet again.  I did my routine drive-by in the grocery, couldn’t even find it listed on the shelf labels, and began to walk away, only a glimmer of orange happiness caught my eye.  In the middle of the jumbo creamers — there it was — one solitary pumpkin spice lovely, all alone and reaching for my buggy (yes, I’m from the south).  This totally made my day and gave me a chuckle that it seemed like a single bottle had been placed there just for me.  Now, don’t worry, I don’t think God sent down a creamer fairy (I suppose angel would be more theologically correct if we weren’t, in fact, talking about coffee creamer), but it did make me think about how He does love to show up and provide for us and make Himself known.

We stayed with some friends this weekend as we traveled out of state for a wedding and went to church with them.  Their pastor preached on Genesis 16 about Sarah and Hagar.  Seeing this in the bulletin triggered a fight or flight response but I thought about social acceptability and took a breath and managed to stay put in the pew.  I was surprised when he pulled from this passage that: God sees, God hears, and God speaks.  Verse 13, Hagar speaking, especially resonated with me, “She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.'”  This is a message God has been — quite literally — speaking to me the past couple weeks, and yet again in this church miles away.

My last story.  I’m in church a couple weeks ago and a woman I have chatted with a couple times and who is known for her amazing prayer life pulled me aside.  She said to me, “I know I don’t know you very well, but I wanted you to know I couldn’t stop thinking about you last weekend.  You just kept coming to mind and so I kept praying for you.  I felt like I should tell you that God hears and that He remembers you.”  Needless to say I was enormously moved to hear that.  It felt like God offering me some assurance in response to all of my questions and grief lately.

Her comments nor her prayers made my pain or confusion go away, but it was a gift in the form of a reminder that He does hear and care and that He is present in this.  As I continually beg Him to provide in the way of a child and finances to somehow make it all possible, I’m also beginning to think of His very hearing, His very seeing, His very being there and reminding us of that as the provision itself.

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