Don't Ignore Infertility

"Riley!"  "Riley, stay over here please."  "Riley, please don't jump on the beds with your shoes on."  "Riley,  use your quiet voice."  A salesman approaches me, "Ma'am do you and Riley need some help?"  "Yes" I say, "We are looking for a bed."

I started looking for a big girl bed for Riley last December when I was pregnant and anticipating I would be moving her out of her crib to make room for the baby.  After the baby died, I kept Riley in her crib and have been procrastinating moving her ever since. Before she was even born I dreamed of her sleeping in that crib.  I brought my little baby home to that crib and she has slept in it for almost three years now.  For me, it's a big step to move her out of the crib.  It means she really is no longer a baby.  And if I'm being totally honest, after losing every child I have ever conceived with the exception of Riley, I battle the fear that something will happen to her too. Each night before I go to sleep I still feel her chest to make sure she is breathing, I still watch her on a baby monitor and I still use a SIDS monitor on her crib.  It just makes me feel better.  And after so much loss, a little reassurance goes a long way.  But you can't use a SIDS monitor on a regular bed, so I have been putting off the big move into the big girl bed.  But she's almost three and it's time.  So we go shopping for a new bed.  And as I chat with the 45ish year old salesman about coil count and durability and firmness he tells me that he has three children, a 29 year old, a 28 year old.....and a 5 year old.  "Yup, she was a surprise." he says and chuckles.  Seriously, this man and his wife in their 40's accidentally get pregnant and have a baby with no problem??  And then the knife right through my heart....he turns to Riley and says, "Riley, do you have any brothers and sisters?"  She looks at him like she has no idea what he is talking about and then repeats, "Broders and sitters?"  "No" I say to him, "It's just her."  "Well Riley tell your mommy she needs to get busy.  Every kid needs brothers and sisters!"  I can't believe I still purchased a bed from him.  And even more, I was nice and polite to him and didn't inconvenience him with my hysterics, but rather waited until I got home to start crying.  He has no idea how "busy" I have been trying to have babies for over four years now.  I have peed on hundreds of ovulation predictor kits and at least as many home pregnancy tests.  I have charted my temperature religiously.  I have been poked with needles more times than I can count.  I have agonized over a pink line and if it is getting lighter or darker than the one on the test I took the day before.  I have endured morning sickness and debilitating migraines all for the sake of babies I will never have.  I have stared at babies on ultrasound machines that I never got to meet in person.  I have never given up.  I have tried, tried and tried again.  I have pushed for tests that doctors are reluctant to order, I have traveled hundreds of miles from my home to see doctors, to find answers, to have a chance at hope again.  I have spent thousands of dollars.  And I have put myself back together every time I have lost a child.  If that's not busy then I have no idea what is.  

Unfortunately, this scenario isn't all that uncommon.  You would be amazed by how many strangers ask me when I am going to "give her a baby brother or sister", as if a baby is mine to give her.  As if I really have any say in that matter at all.  That is entirely up to God.  And why, oh why, do people say such stupid things?  If I have learned anything from this, I hope it is how to be a more sensitive person.  To know that everywhere around us, at the grocery store, on the interstate, at your kid's school, in Nebraska Furniture Mart are hurting people.  They may put on their make up and dress nice and masquerade around as totally happy, normal people.  But trust me, inside they are hurting and using a monumental amount of emotional energy to get through the exact errand that others may find to be so simple and just a part of their normal, every day lives.

RESOLVE, The National Infertility Association, is preparing for National Infertility Awareness Week beginning April 22.  The theme this year is "Don't Ignore Infertility".  I will be writing some posts on this topic in the coming months.  But for now, I would urge anyone reading this to do exactly that.  Don't ignore infertility, yours or someone else's.  Each day in the life of the woman struggling to have a baby is full of hidden land mines. She never knows when one will explode taking her completely by surprise and knocking her off her feet, taking the air right out of her lungs.  Strangers ask dumb questions, reminders of lost little ones pop up when least expected, new babies are conceived and born all around her while her womb and arms remain empty.  I read once that a survey was conducted that interviewed women who had experienced both infertility and a life threatening illness such as cancer.  Every women in the study rated her years of infertility as equal to or more painful and stressful than dealing with her life threatening illness.  This is tough stuff.  These women need time and space.  They also need love and support.   Know that each day could have been the day a salesman asked her why she doesn't have children (or more children).  Please don't ignore her.

I love you always and forever and no matter what.

Being Strong and Courageous

We are in the parking lot of a Chili's.  I am leaning over the backseat to get Riley out of her car seat.  I glance up and look through the windshield and see my husband meet my father in law on the sidewalk.  My father in law just looks at his son, says nothing and shakes his head back and forth.  Jason's head falls.  These two grown men stand there, heads town, eyes red and tears threatening to escape.  Before any words are said, I know.  We have been awaiting the results of these tests for weeks.  The latest treatment did not work and my mother in law's cancer is spreading.  We escape life for a few days and leave town, all of us together, my husband and in laws and Riley and I.  One little family with some pretty huge burdens to carry.

While crying our way through lunch at Chili's I receive a rather insensitive and upsetting text message from a friend who means well but just does not understand what we are going through right now.  Oh, and I have to board a plane in two hours.  I think we all know my views about the human body being 30,000 feet above the ground...it's dangerous and should never happen!  That's just my opinion.  I'm pretty sure we were the only people traveling with a child who carried a car seat on the plane.  Imagine a line of people trying to get to their seats in the narrow isle but they can't get by because Jason is haphazardly trying to secure the enormous car seat into a teeny tiny airplane seat.  He would just as soon let Riley sit in the regular seat....let my precious two year old teeny tiny baby girl sit unrestrained in a death machine (sorry for the dramatics) that will soon be catapulting us up to a place in the sky so high even birds don't fly up there, I don't think so!  Thankfully the rest of our weekend was not as difficult as those few hours at Chili's and on the plane were.  It was a weekend planned to celebrate good news or find some escape from bad news.  We were happy.  We were sad. We laughed.  We cried.  We were together, all weekend, our little family.

"Have I not commanded you be strong and courageous.  Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." Joshua 1:9  Well I failed at that one.  I do every time I fly.  I try to be strong and courageous.  I try to not be afraid and I tell myself over and over again in my head that God is with us, watching over us, protecting us.  Then the voice enters, "If that's true then where was your God the six times you were pregnant and lost your babies?  Where is your God now that your only child's grandmother, who she is head over heals in love with, has cancer?"  "Get behind me Satan" I almost say out loud.  But then a mere bit of turbulence comes and my fight is over...."Jason" I say, "Get the stewardess over here now.  I need a drink!".  Isn't this how life is, we try so hard but when the bumps come we struggle, we question and we ask why, we turn to whatever we need to just get us through. 

Throughout the weekend I forced myself to think of things in light of my faith.  Six miscarriages.  Six unanswered prayers.  But how many times have I flown?  I can't even count all the times.  Definitely more than six, especially since I met my husband and his darn family that likes to travel so much (I love you dear Parkers! :) ) How many answered prayers is that?  Riley has fallen asleep and woken up safely every morning for almost three years now.  How many answered prayers is that?  Riley is perfectly healthy, growing, thriving and talking.  People once tried to scare us into thinking this may not be the case for her.  That's one huge answered prayer.  And the list goes on and on.  He blesses us abundantly, even on our darkest days.  We were never promised everything would go the way we wanted it to in this life.  And when I decided, when my mother in law decided, to give our lives to God we decided to let Him dictate our lives.  And we decided we would trust Him no matter what, even when it wasn't going the way we wanted.  I may not handle flying so well.  I am a nervous wreck for weeks before the scheduled flight, I am on pins and needles at the airport and it is nothing short of a panic attack as soon as we take off until the moment we land.  I may use anxiety meds and a few drinks to get me through (which, when timed just right, works quite well), I may not be strong and courageous as God commands, but I am strong enough and courageous enough to get on the plane.  To willingly and literally walk right onto one of my greatest fears.  Victims of cancer may not be strong and courageous every day.  But, at least the one I know (and actually I know two people I love who battle cancer right now) is strong enough and courageous enough to get out of bed every day, live her life bravely and boldly and all the while with a smile on her face.  We aren't perfect but we try.  We do our best.  And we thank God for His grace that covers us when we fall short. 

Fighting the Good Fight

Fight the good fight.  We've all heard that saying before.  But what does it really mean?  I have always attributed it to mean fighting for something worth fighting for, staying in the game, holding on when times are tough.  I said in my last post that I felt bad that this blog is rather depressing but there was nothing I could really do about it.  Six of my children have died.  That's just plain depressing no matter how you look at it.  But maybe I was wrong.  Maybe through my pain, through my struggle, through the words of my heart poured out on this blog there is some hope to be found, some joy to be found, some meaning and purpose that far exceeds anything that is of this world.

"Fight the good fight" originates, as many sayings we have do,  from the bible.  "Fight the good fight of the faith.  Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called when you made your good confession in the presence of many witnesses" 1 Timothy 6:12.  Somehow the last line of the sentence, "of the faith" has generally been dropped from the saying that most of us have heard.  But when I ponder this saying and think over the entire verse it brings new insight.  Admittedly,  I have not been fighting the good fight lately, or at least I haven't been fighting for the particular things I wish I could have been.  It's hard to fight the fight of faith when you are struggling just to hang on to it, your hands are soaked in your own tears and they are slipping.  Now you are holding on just by your fingers and they too are wet and slipping.  You feel yourself slipping further and further away and you are terrified you will lose your hold completely but there is nothing you can do about it.  You are trying so desperately just to hang on.  That is the fight I have been fighting.  Just trying to hang on.  Hang on to my daily routine, my responsibilities as a wife and mother, just trying to hang on to my faith.  I have never been much for New Years resolutions and even when I do make them, I rarely keep them.  But I suppose if I want to make one for 2013 it would be this, to get back in the fight of faith.  There's nothing wrong with fighting to hang on, fighting to just get by and survive.  That's part of the fight, part of the process.  But at some point you have to get back to fighting the good fight of faith.  So what does that mean?  It doesn't mean the fight to get through the every day pain and struggle that comes with my grief is over.  It is still very much here and is a battle I must continue to fight.  For me though it means that battle takes on a new form.  I must fight the one who fills my mind with lies and makes me believe I deserve the tragedies I have experienced, the one who makes me feel inferior and broken, the one who convinces me I am being punished for something, the one who fills me with fear to the point that I just sit and await the next tragedy, the one who makes me doubt that my God is big enough to handle this, to resolve this, to heal this, to redeem this.  I must lean not on my own understanding but on trust (Proverbs 3:5).  And it will have to be an all out war, one where I show up with my entire arsenal ready to fight, reaching out to take hold of the eternal life to which I have been called, reaching out for the eternal Jesus who I confessed my need for and gave my life to in the presence of two special witnesses.  The good news is, once I grasp Him, my fight is over.  He takes over from there and He will fight the battle for me, not just fight it, but fight it while He stands in front of me, protectively shielding me from the onslaught that will surely come. 

I am reading a book right now entitled "Get Out of That Pit" by Beth Moore.  The pit she describes has most certainly been my residence for over a year now.  A pit I was thrown into, not because of anything I did but because that's life.  And life has no shortage of events that can throw even the best of us into a deep, dark pit that we feel we may never escape.  I could quote many amazing insights from her book but for today I will focus on these two that have been especially profound to me.  In the book of Genesis there is the story of a young man named Joseph, whose brothers plotted to kill him by throwing him into a pit (a literal one) and leaving him there to die.  Beth says this of that story, "God did not haphazardly or accidentally let Joseph's brothers throw him in the pit.  He had already thought it out in advance.  Considered it.  Weighed it. Checked it against the plumb line of the plan. He had looked at the good it could ultimately accomplish, the lives that could be helped and even saved.  Then, and only then, in His sovereign purpose did He permit such harm to come to His beloved child. Had the incident not possessed glorious purpose, God would have disarmed it."  Wow.  Could it be that God has not just swiftly allowed Jason and I to miscarry six children, but rather He thought it over, gave it much consideration and looked at the whole picture which we cannot fully see.  He saw the good He knew He could bring out of it and then, make no mistake about this, He did not cause, but permitted the miscarriages to occur and these losses, my little babies, me, my grief has a glorious purpose.  Beth goes on to say, "If God allowed you to be thrown into a pit, you weren't picked on; you were picked out.  God entrusted that suffering to you because He has faith in you.  Live up to it.  All the way up."  God picked Jason and I and our children out for His special, glorious purpose.  He has so much faith in me that He believed I could handle the grief with grace, endurance and yes, even faith.  He wants to use me to accomplish His good in this world.  I have not suffered because He is mad at me but perhaps because I am even more loved by Him.  To know that God could trust me with not one, but six of his children.  He trusted me to carry them for all the days they had written, to love them, to go to bed every night with my hand rested on my stomach as I prayed for them, to fight for them when I knew something wasn't right, to graciously and thankfully accept one of His children into my arms, alive and well, and then to bless me with her amazing little presence in my life.  And to know that He trusted me to let them go and return them to their rightful Father when He called them, to grieve them, not perfectly but honestly, purely and openly and most importantly to honor and love God through it all, to find my way to a faith strong enough to bring glory to God in all situations, all circumstances.  To know He trusts me, loves me that much causes tears to stream down my face as I write this.  I think back to when this journey first began and you may remember how I shared the story of when God spoke to me through a rainbow and told me to trust Him.  It has taken me four years to see that the trust He spoke of was not just of me trusting Him, but of Him trusting me.  Him trusting that I would use this for His good.  What an amazing honor.  What else can I do but fight the good fight?  Hang on tight to my God. Find a way to bring glory to Him through this pain. And rest in His loving arms.  I love You always and forever and no matter what.  Tell my babies their mama has the same love for each of them and that I anxiously await the day I will see their sweet faces.  I anxiously await the day I will see my sweet Jesus.  Until then, I have a purpose and maybe, just maybe, I am on my way out of the pit.