Six Plus Two

Hello world.

It's been quite a while.

Time marches on, doesn't it? Nothing makes it any clearer to me than looking at my growing children. Lily turned five years old a few months ago. She's tall, smart, sensitive, and sweet. She goes to pre-k and adores every minute of it. Anna will be three before November is over. She is independent, smart, silly, and has an adorable little face buried under a head full of blonde curls. They are our joy, our girls, the ones we got to keep. They constantly teach me new things about myself -- some good and some not so good. Parenting challenges me in different ways every single day, stretching me so far beyond my comfort zone. But each day I'm ever mindful of the privilege it is to do this job. I'm grateful.

Last month my little family did something we've wanted to do for several years. It was a beautiful, cloudless, blue-sky day that was almost fall-like in Southeast Texas. My husband picked up six balloons on his way home from the office, three pink and three blue. We loaded the kids up and drove a few miles to our favorite park, explaining to the girls what we were going to do and why. It was October 15, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

We spent a few precious minutes taking pictures -- Lily wasn't feeling well -- knowing that we weren't trying to get the perfect shot. We just wanted some sweet photos to commemorate the moment. My dear husband, however, is good at lots of things, including photography. In just about five minutes, he was able to capture some images that made our eyes tear up when we looked at them later that night. The pictures represent to us all of our children: the six in heaven plus the two on Earth.

We let the girls release the balloons (coincidentally, Lily's favorite color is blue and Anna's is pink), watching them go up until we couldn't see them anymore. We talked about heaven. We hugged each other, and we returned home feeling peaceful about having done something tangible to honor our babies. It was a beautiful day, in more ways than one.

Of course, we still think about them. Forgetting is not what we're about. This family wouldn't be what it is if we didn't remember all it took to get here. The first baby we lost was due in January of 2003. She (Emily Grace) would be approaching her teenage years. The youngest of the six (Aaron Joseph), miscarried in January of 2007, would now be eight years old.

Time flies.

And we always remember.

Agnes Faith

This is the fifth post in a series about our babies in heaven, all miscarried in the first trimester. The first four can be found here: Emily Grace, Callie Elizabeth, Luke Daniel, Adam Louis. Thank you for remembering them with me.
***

Every single loss is hard. Each one broke our hearts. It took a while for us to pick up the pieces after we lost our fourth baby. We thought surely, after finding out about the uterine septum and having it removed, we had figured things out and would be bringing home our baby. Instead we had another unfulfilled due date, in February 2006.

After the miscarriage we'd kept ourselves from the doctor visits. We didn't return until February, seven months later, for a consultation. Our doctor gave us a few suggestions that we could look into. It was good to have options, but it definitely felt a lot like grasping at straws. Try seeing a urologist for further sperm testing. Talk to a high-risk pregnancy doctor. Consult with a geneticist. Have lots and lots more blood work. (It's a good thing I'm not afraid of needles.)

My husband saw the urologist and was tested for sperm fragmentation. That turned out fine. No worries there. The high-risk pregnancy doc did some tests and thought we could try using blood thinners with the next pregnancy. My doctor was on board with this and we were willing to try it. The geneticist, after looking over all of our history, determined that she didn't think a healthy, full-term pregnancy was completely out of the question for us. Although we knew these were all just ideas and medical opinions, that was particularly nice to hear since our former OB/GYN would later call me on the phone and tell me that she thought I had a genetic problem that would prevent me from ever having a biological child. Wow. Talk about having the breath knocked out of you. Looking back I realize what an inappropriate opinion that was to give a patient, over the phone, when you aren't even qualified as an infertility specialist. Some days it truly felt like everything was working against us.

We knew the odds didn't look good. But we weren't ready to give up yet. There were many, many days when I thought about it. I felt incredibly weak. I was tired and discouraged, and depressed. It became increasingly harder for me to go anywhere and to face all of the questions about why we didn't have any children and what we were doing about it. Everyone had an opinion, a suggestion, and just the right answer for what we should be doing. They said we weren't thinking positively enough, we were worrying too much, we needed to take a break and relax. They said that this was all happening for a reason and that God wouldn't give me more than I could handle. And I began to hate hearing all of it. All of those words made us feel like we were doing something wrong; like it was my fault that our children couldn't survive in my womb. Or that God was trying to teach me a really hard lesson that I was apparently too dumb or had too little faith to grasp.

And so I started keeping it all inside and sharing as little information as possible with those people I knew didn't really care and were just curious. I stopped going to baby showers because it was just too hard. Even going to church was becoming almost unbearable. While I never turned my back on God, I definitely began to question His plan and wonder why this was happening to us, and why it happens to anyone at all.

Even in this state of mind, though, there was a determination inside of me. The desire to be a mother had grown, moving me forward and helping me to take another step, even if it felt small. I had a husband beside me who never gave up hope and always believed that we would have children. And through all of it, God really was teaching me new things about my weakness and His strength. He was teaching me about waiting and trusting and resting and hoping, and above all, about realizing that I serve a God who is infinitely bigger than my circumstances, my fears, and even infertility and miscarriage.

And so, after a new round of tests that revealed no obvious problem but with a few new options to try, we found out about our fifth pregnancy on July 27, 2006. With this pregnancy I began using daily Lovenox (blood thinner) injections in my stomach. Even with no fear of needles, it was a hard thing for me to get used to at first but became a bit easier as time went on. A blood test confirmed the pregnancy and we were back to waiting and hoping for good news. A few days later things were looking pretty good. The HCG levels were rising and progesterone looked good.

We were feeling confident. So much so that we made the (just over 2 hour) drive to Louisiana to celebrate my mom's birthday on August 6th. On Monday the 7th I went for more lab work. I felt hopeful as I waited to hear more good news, but it was not to be. The call would come later the next day, but before the phone ever rang I already knew. I woke up the morning of August 8, 2006 with cramps and bleeding, knowing I was losing the baby. I had been only about 6 weeks along.

It surprises me today to read what I wrote in my journal in the days after our fifth miscarriage. Somewhere inside I still believed it would happen and knew at that point that we would give it at least one more try. It might sound crazy but we suddenly had the feeling that we were getting closer. At that point it felt like we'd been climbing the mountain for so long that we must be near the top, even though we still couldn't see it. We had to be closer.

We've named this sweet baby Agnes Faith.

I know that Agnes isn't exactly a trendy name these days. While I consider it a classic, it's not one of those that is enjoying a big comeback. It was, however, my great-grandmother's name, and she was truly a treasure. She was the most precious, sweet, kind, gentle, French-speaking old Cajun lady that you could ever imagine, and we all adored her. My mom was particularly close to her grandmother, and Mom was always so pleased to have Granny's name, Agnes, as her middle name.

August 8th, the day I miscarried, was Granny's birthday. She passed away in 1999, but I have so many fond memories of her. There were exactly 101 years separating my Granny and my little Agnes. I'm incredibly honored to name my daughter after her and after my sweet mom as well.

My mom is amazing and has been such a huge supporter and great influence in my life, teaching me about faith and modeling the kind of mother I always hoped to be. When I think of the name Agnes, I have two wonderful and strong women who immediately come to mind. I like to think my sweet little Agnes would have followed in their footsteps.

Her middle name is pretty self-explanatory. Faith. It's something I can't imagine my life without and it's the number one thing that helped me through this struggle. Without my faith in God I don't want to imagine where I'd be today.

Agnes Faith,
Oh sweet girl, your name is very special to us and we love imagining what kind of woman you might have grown up to be. We miss you, sweet one, and love you so much! I can't wait to wrap my arms around you.
Love, Mommy

All About Anna

Since Anna's birth in November, I haven't done much blogging at all. It's often on my mind, though, and I've been wanting to write a post that is all about Anna. I figured now would be a pretty good time to write out some things that are unique about her now that she has reached the ripe old age of six months. More than half a year has gone by already! Next week Anna will be seven months, so there's no time to lose!

As you know, our first daughter Lily is our "rainbow baby" -- our child who finally arrived after loss. She is the first baby we got to take home. Anna Evangeline is the second, and we consider them both miracles. I like to think of Anna as my "something extra" -- lagniappe, as we say in Louisiana. She's my icing on the cake and my precious "bonus" gift from God.

When my husband and I were newly married and for a few years after, we secretly always envisioned our lives down the road with two daughters. I don't think I ever wrote that here on the blog before and it's not something I tell lots of people. It's not that we preferred girls or would have been disappointed with boys. We had always been super close to our nephews. So much so, I think, that it already felt like we had our own sons! We were just a young couple allowing ourselves to dream and imagining what the future might hold. We had no idea what was to come. We never imagined our lives would be turned upside down over the next decade and our faith tested as we tried to have children and faced many obstacles and great loss. So, while we may have thought two girls would be our dream come true, we put that idea aside and focused on the present. We prayed and hoped for a child in God's timing. Boy or girl, it didn't matter one single bit. It never had, really, we came to realize. We knew we would have loved sons or daughters however the Lord decided. We just wanted the chance to be parents.

So when November 2012 came around and we were about to meet our second daughter, she felt like the last piece of the puzzle finally slipping right into place. We remembered those long-ago dreams of having two girls in the backseat of our car, or sharing a room upstairs, or staying up late giggling with each other just as I'd done with my sister. It felt like God was giving back what was lost. I don't mean the children we lost. No, they can never be and will never be replaced. But God restored a dream to a married couple who were afraid to hope that it could actually come true. He brought back that old dream we'd almost forgotten about and made it a reality. Two beautiful girls! We are still amazed.

And now, here are some specifics about my Anna.

There are some things that I guessed at and some things that I knew for sure during my pregnancy with her. I imagined her fairer than her sister, in coloring. It turned out that I was right about that. Anna's hair is lighter and she has the bluest eyes (which I know may still change), and her complexion is fairer like mine. Lily's eyes, even when they were blue in the early weeks, were always so dark. She has beautiful brown eyes now, which I also love, but Anna's are bright blue. I'm thinking that even if they change color, they'll probably stay lighter. (In case anyone is wondering, their daddy has hazel eyes and mine are green.)
The thing I knew for sure was that she would be strong. Mercy, is she ever. Anna was born weighing only about four ounces more than her sister did at birth, but she has consistently been bigger and more active.

Eating:
At her six month checkup last week, Anna weighed 17 pounds, 11 ounces (75-80th percentile) and was just over 27 inches tall (90th percentile). Her sixth month has been pretty busy! In the last few weeks she has started sitting up all by herself and has now had a taste of rice cereal, oatmeal, bananas, carrots, and prunes. I've been fortunate to be able to breastfeed again this time around, so I still nurse several times a day and usually once during the night. This baby certainly loves to eat. Spoon feeding seems to have gone easier this time, but it may be because I started it a bit later than I did with Lily. Anna has for months carried on a love/hate relationship with her pacifier. You just never knew when she might want it and when it would just make her mad. That's kind of how she is about most things. Interestingly, she has recently decided that the paci is her friend. Silly kid!

Personality:
My "Anna bear" (so far the only nickname that has stuck, besides what Lily calls her -- "Baby Anna") gives very sweet snuggles and drooly, open-mouthed kisses with her still-toothless little mouth. She likes ACTIVITY. I always joke that we need to hire a three-ring circus to keep her entertained. She is at her happiest when the house is busy with guests or when we are out and about (although not so much in the car). People always tell me what a happy baby she is, and it's true... but she's at her best when others are present! She tends to get fussy much faster when we're just at home and it's quieter. Anna loves attention and she loves being held. She has a huge smile, one of the things we most adore about her. She loves to be surprised with a "boo" or a "peekaboo" and she is very ticklish.

Sleeping:
My baby girl is a pretty decent sleeper, but has surprised (and delighted!) us with a full night's sleep only a handful of times. We are hoping this will be part of her regular routine soon! We just moved her up to her own room and crib and out of the bassinet in our room a few weeks ago. She has adjusted pretty well but would much prefer it if we'd rock and hold her all night long. :) We never know how the night will go at this stage. Night before last she slept straight through, but last night we were up a few times with her. At six months she is taking usually three naps a day (which are now coming at predictable times).

Sisterhood:
One of my favorite things these days is watching my girls together. They love each other so much and seem happier when they are together. Anna loves to watch her big sister, and Lily has never been jealous of the new baby. Lily, who is shy upon meeting new people, will always use Anna as an ice-breaker, pointing to her and yelling, "There's baby Anna!" Of course, Anna is JUST coming to the stage where she can interact more and grab toys or cry when they are taken away, so Lily will have some adjusting to do! I hope they will learn to play well together and become good friends. Each and every night before bed we pray that Lily and Anna will love the Lord, love others, and love each other. At this stage it is incredibly sweet to see them loving one another.

Life is pleasantly full around our home lately. Motherhood continues to amaze me while also stretching and challenging me every single day. About two months ago I was (perhaps humorously to someone observing from the outside) frantically trying to balance potty training my two and a half year old and nursing my four month old, but we have settled in once again and adjusted to the new normal. After living with loss for so long, I'm humbled by this position and grateful for the opportunity.

To sum up, Anna is a precious addition to our family. We love her so much! The Lord gave us a sweet, wonderful, unexpected gift -- "something extra" -- when He gave us our Anna Evangeline. We pray that she'll always know just how special she is to us.

Is Eight Enough?

The following is a post that has been on my heart for a while. It's scary, sometimes, putting things "out there" that feel truly, deeply personal and private, knowing that one little negative comment could potentially cut you to the core. So this is me taking that chance and being brave, friends. I'm not asking for advice, but just a friendly, listening ear.

I'm nearing the end of my eighth pregnancy. I can count the remaining weeks on one hand as the date we've been anticipating since March now appears on our current calendar page. November 2012 is the month when we'll meet our second daughter on earth, the second child we got to keep.

As most of you probably know, my first six pregnancies ended in miscarriage. I know the story has been told and re-told on this blog, but I think perspective is important for this particular post. That was the most difficult time in my life, hands-down. And, not that it would have been any easier at all had they happened in a shorter time frame, my losses were spread out -- one a year for six years, between 2002 and 2007. The reason I'm pointing that out is that it felt like it took up so much of our lives. I'll even admit that looking at it written out doesn't seem like quite that long. Oh, but living it felt like an eternity. It felt like climbing the highest, rockiest mountain over and over again, only to find another one just as high and just as rocky on the other side.

I entered that time as a young, eager, (ahem -- much thinner), twenty-four year old with high hopes, and I exited as a battered and bruised, heartbroken, somewhat jaded thirty year old. We still had very few answers and (speaking for myself) not much hope that our situation would improve. Three more years went by while we waited. Those felt like silent years to me. I wondered if God had closed the door, stopped listening to me, and decided that my chances at motherhood had run out. I was thankful that those years did not include more loss -- I'm not sure if I could have handled more grief during that time. But the silence, too, was hard.

Everything changed in January 2010, when we were given another chance, a seventh pregnancy, and somehow it kept going. Our daughter was born that September and we were overjoyed. We'd grown and changed in many ways (some for the better, some not), but most of all we were tired and ready to rest in the joy of the moment.

The eighth pregnancy in March 2012 came faster and more unexpectedly than we could have imagined, but we were ready and hopeful, if not more than a little bit terrified. We knew that having had one successful pregnancy did not guarantee another, but as the weeks and months passed, the baby lived and grew. We began to let ourselves entertain thoughts of a family of four, and let me tell you, it was so far beyond where I was five years ago after our sixth positive pregnancy test resulted in another devastating loss. Sometimes I still can't believe it when I look around me. The rooms of our house are littered with toys and upstairs there are two bedrooms with cribs in them. More than that, though, my heart is so full.

And so, all of that brings me to this moment, right now. I haven't made any final decisions (or any of the permanent type), but I often wonder if this will be it. Will this eighth pregnancy be our last? If I had to answer as honestly as I can and exactly as I feel today, my answer would be yes. I guess "enough" isn't a great word here, because YES, it is certainly enough! The last thing in the world that I feel right now is unfulfilled or that our family is incomplete (with our six babies in heaven always in my mind and heart -- we know we'll see them again one day, and they are part of our family as well even though they are not here). Having Lily was all we'd hoped for, and now having Anna is all bonus and so much more than we'd imagined. We are fulfilled. We are happy.

If I were ten years younger and had never suffered through miscarriage or infertility, would we stop after two children? Probably not. And that's the part that is hard. I'll be 36 a couple of months after Anna is born. I don't bellyache about my increasing age on this blog because I know there are people older than I am who are fighting their own battles. But I mention it to say that I'm aware of it daily, and I'm more than aware that after eight pregnancies and multiple surgeries, etc., my body is weary. It has been a long and very difficult road to where we are. Not to mention that after six miscarriages, the fear of another loss is always with me. And even though I know it has nothing at all to do with "luck," I can't help but also think sometimes that after bringing home two babies I don't want to "push my luck." I guess that's the pessimist (or the realist) in me.

I do know that women who are older than I am have babies all the time. I think that's great and I like knowing that it may not be impossible for me as well if we pursued that. I think the point of getting all of these feelings out is that I don't feel like the average woman of childbearing age. It took us an entire decade and a lot of emotional and physical pain to have these two children, so I can't help but have lots of feelings on the subject. Sometimes I envy those who had/have no limitations whatsoever on their family size, those who knew from a young age that they wanted to grow up and have "x" amount of children and then faced no obstacles in doing just that. But I've accepted the fact that I'm not and never will be that person, and I know that what I went through to have my miracle babies is part of my story and what makes this family unique and special to me in its own amazing way. From my perspective, which is based on my own personal experience, the thought of closing the chapter of my life that has been consumed with fertility feels... quite freeing.

It's a difficult topic for me to mull over right now, even though I feel 90% sure (and generally okay with it) that Anna will be our caboose. I want to be content in what God has given us, yet I don't want to be the one who has slammed and locked the door if He has another child for us in the future (biological or otherwise).

I can't help but think about it in these final weeks of this pregnancy. I wonder if this will be the last time, while I'm still amazed that I've been given the chance (however hard-fought) to do this twice. Either way I want to rest in this moment and be content right where I am. And I think, whenever we're ready and after praying about it at length, it will one day feel great to say, "Okay. It's enough."

All In A Weekend

It's the Monday after one of those weekends that seems to encompass just about everything: highs and lows, storms and sunshine, and joy and sorrow.

Friday afternoon I wasn't expecting a storm, but the skies darkened and suddenly we were under a severe thunderstorm with lots of lightning and rain. I'm sure I noticed it a bit more because it hit just as we were leaving the house to go have Lily's picture taken at a photo studio. The storm blew through fairly quickly, though, and left us with much cooler temperatures (a blessing where I live, even in April!) and a near perfect forecast for the rest of the weekend.

We came up with the idea of spending our gorgeous Saturday at the downtown zoo. It would be Lily's first trip ever, and it was a perfect way to celebrate that our girl was turning 19 months old that same day. We called her aunt (my sister-in-law), who lives in town, and she was excited to meet us there for a fun morning. We arrived around 9:30 and just in time to watch the elephants eating breakfast and getting their morning baths. We saw lions, giraffes, bears, monkeys, and all sorts of animals, and Lily had a fantastic time running and playing as we wound our way through the zoo until just after noon. We had snacks right next door to the giraffes as they had their lunch, and Lily tried (and loved!) cotton candy for the first time. It was a perfect day and one we'll remember as a family for years to come.

Lily was fast asleep before we even left the parking lot. She had played hard and was exhausted, so I was glad she'd have nearly an hour to nap in the car as we drove home. She was still out when we decided to stop and pick up food as we got closer to home. Chuck went inside to order while I waited in the car with Lily. I pulled out my phone to check messages and facebook and such, when I saw some devastating news. A precious couple we know from the town where we used to live were involved in a serious car accident just hours earlier. He was in critical condition; she did not survive. I sat there stunned in the car. My poor husband had no idea what was going on when he came back to the car and found me sobbing. We made some calls to friends and family to see if we could find out more, and bits and pieces of information came in about the wreck.

I'm so sad for this dear family. What a beautiful person she was, and I was blessed to call her my friend. Chuck and I had gone to see them when we were last in town, at Christmas. We had a great visit and were so happy to introduce Lily to them for the first time. I'm thankful for that last time I saw her smiling face this side of heaven. They are in their sixties and have two grown sons and several young grandchildren. My heart aches for them right now, as I pray continually for God to comfort them.

We spent the rest of our Saturday in a bit of a fog, wondering why things like this happen and praying for the healing of our friend's body and his heart. We carried on with the necessary tasks -- getting Lily fed and changed, and starting on plans for supper. A few hours later I was cooking while Chuck took Lily in the back yard to play. They came in, we ate, and started getting ready for bed. Before her bath, Chuck mentioned that a mosquito had bitten Lily on the side of her face, next to her eye. Mosquitoes are rampant here, and of course she's been bitten before despite our best efforts to keep them away. The last bite she had recently near her elbow, though, made her arm swell up quite a bit. I hoped she wouldn't have the same reaction this time... but by morning it was clear that she would. Her eye was extremely puffy, and by the end of the day it was swollen completely shut. We'd called her pediatrician's office and talked to the nurse, who told us the correct dosage of Benadryl to give her. After a few hours the swelling hadn't gone down so we took her to the weekend clinic near our house. The doctor there examined the eye itself and said it did not look red and she had no fever. We felt better about it and were given medicine to make sure it doesn't get infected. She's still getting Benadryl, too. I had hoped that it would look much better when I got her out of bed this morning but the eye was still swollen shut. I know she's fine, but it sure looks pitiful! Poor baby girl.

It was one of those weekends, full of the good, the bad, and the unimaginable. Losing a friend so suddenly certainly puts everything into perspective and shifts your focus to the things that really matter. I hugged my family a few extra times this weekend, thanking God for each minute that I have with them.

Brief pregnancy update: I'm 8w1d today, and as far as I know things are okay. Hoping for a good report at the next ultrasound on Thursday.
Thanks, friends, for the supportive comments on my last post. I'm glad you guys understand that, even after you have a baby, life is full of ups and downs. I'll keep writing about them here. And I'll always thank God and give Him the glory for the blessings in my life, and keep praising Him through the storms as well.

Consultation and Jumbled Thoughts

My mind is racing today and I'm finding it difficult to rest right now even though Lily is napping. I thought it would be best to just write it all out here and hopefully feel some relief.

Yesterday was my first trip to MD Anderson as a patient. I've been to the big, famous cancer hospital twice before with two different friends who were receiving treatment for breast cancer, but this was my first time to go for me. I can say from experience that, every time you go there, it's a memorable and a sobering experience.

I want to start by saying this: I know that I'm going to be okay. I don't wish to sound remotely melodramatic about this melanoma diagnosis. I know that, while it is a very serious and potentially fatal disease, I'm fortunate that mine was found early and can be treated successfully with surgery. I have friends and family members who have fought different types of cancer -- some who have survived and some who have not. Knowing that my chances of even undergoing any type of chemotherapy or radiation in this case are between slim and none, I would never compare this experience of mine to any of those life-threatening ones.

It is a scary thing, however, to face cancer of any kind growing in or on your body. And scarier still, for me, is the fact that I'm already in the riskier stages of pregnancy. I was reassured yesterday by no fewer than three doctors that they will take the utmost care of me and my baby, and I believe that they will do just that. I know that, even without the skin cancer diagnosis, I would be feeling just as nervous about simply being 7.5 weeks pregnant right now.

I didn't get as many questions answered yesterday as I'd hoped, because for some reason my pathology slides had not arrived. This was disappointing because the doctor wasn't able to review them and decide on exactly what my treatment will be and when. I do know that I'll be having surgery, and my doctor was pretty sure that he wants to wait until I'm in my second trimester to do it. He said that, especially considering my history with first trimester miscarriage, he wants to go the safest route. That means it will probably be at least 6 more weeks. I hate to have to wait, but obviously I trust his opinion (he is the best melanoma surgeon in the country, after all!) and I'm willing to do whatever is best for the health of the baby. So, at the least, I'll have the skin around the area of the mole removed to make sure they get all of the cancer. At the most, I'll have that surgery plus a procedure to test the lymph nodes around the site. We don't know if that part will be necessary until he can review the slides, so I'm waiting to hear back from them on that and to get the date scheduled. And I met with more than one doctor who reassured me that there will be someone from maternal fetal medicine who will monitor the baby before and after the surgery and make sure everything is okay.

I know that I'm in good hands and will receive excellent care. But I'm being perfectly honest with you when I tell you that I'm stressed. Really stressed. It's unnerving, to say the least, to spend the day talking to doctors about cancer and surgery and pregnancy all at once. It felt like an out-of-body experience when I signed a consent form to participate in a research study about cancer and pregnancy. It was one of those I-can't-believe-I'm-doing-this kinds of feelings. All the while, though, I couldn't help but think of people (a few I know and so many that I don't) who have sat in rooms like those and heard much, much scarier things. Several years ago I had a dear friend who learned toward the end of her pregnancy with her third child that she was facing leukemia. I still think about her all the time, and how brave she was and what her struggle must have felt like as she fought for her life with three young children at home. That sweet friend is in heaven now but she is often in my thoughts.

I'm grateful that that isn't the road I'm on right now. And although it's so hard to imagine, I know that my God would see me through a trial such as that one just as He did my friend, who took the time to call and encourage me about recurrent miscarriage even as she fought leukemia. Actually, I feel very very weak when I think about people as strong as she was.

Even though it feels scary, I know that this is going to be okay. I'm not saying that I know for sure that everything will go exactly the way I want it to and be perfect. I don't know that. But I know that, whatever happens, the Lord will take care of me. Perhaps you don't believe the same way that I do, but I have complete faith and trust in my God. I've been through miscarriage before and I know that if it happens again He will see me through. I've been through surgery before, too, and I know I won't be alone when it happens again.

Although I feel uncertain and shaky right now, I'm keeping my eyes on Him because it's all I know to do. The words to this Bebo Norman song have been playing in my head and comforting me today. Thought I'd leave you with the chorus:

I will lift my eyes to the Maker
Of the mountains I can't climb
I will lift my eyes to the Calmer
Of the oceans raging wild
I will lift my eyes to the Healer
Of the hurt I hold inside
I will lift my eyes, lift my eyes to You

Treasures

I think it's pretty safe to say that when you're going through infertility it's hard to find the bright spots most days. Life still has its joys, of course, but I mean it's difficult sometimes to recognize any good that could possibly come out of a trial when you're still so deeply submerged in it. I know that, personally, I spent day after day and year after year trudging along with my shoulders hunched and head down, bracing myself for another disappointment and just trying to make it one day at a time. It was hard to keep picking myself up after another loss... and another... and another. It felt (and still feels) like a burden, a struggle, and an uphill climb.

Thankfully, in the midst of all that, my husband and I worked to make some happy memories. We wanted to someday look back on our waiting years and see that there was still joy to be found -- but it took a few years for us to get there and actually put it into practice. That doesn't mean there weren't still a lot of hard days. It just meant that we tried to make the best of it. We spent lots of time with our families, we spoiled our nephews, we tried to be more spontaneous and do more fun things together, and we traveled. We went to Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, San Francisco, Florida, Nova Scotia, Prince Edward Island, Washington, D.C., and New York City. We saved our money for vacations and seized every opportunity to turn work trips into new adventures. We used money we'd been saving for baby furniture to buy a new camera and I documented our new memories in scrapbooks. And now, years later, while I don't view my battle with infertility as over and done (although I pray it is), I can look back on portions of that time fondly. Those memories are some of the treasures that have come out of that trial.

That's what this post is about. Treasures. And by far the most amazing treasures that I've found over the past decade have been people. Our family members and some of our oldest and dearest friends stuck by us during that time and prayed their hearts out for us. That's a treasure. It means more to me than I could ever express. Sometimes people I didn't even know that well sent a card or told me how they were touched by our situation and our faith. That always encouraged me to keep going, and it helped me to learn to be more open about sharing our struggle because I knew that others were hurting too.

Suddenly there were lots of new people in my life who had also been through miscarriage or infertility. There were others who understood all the devastation and disappointment, the guilt and the grief that we'd been going through. All at once I could use this blog to sort out my emotions and fears, and read about other people who were facing similar circumstances. And it all came at a time when I needed it the most. That was a treasure.

Soon I began to feel such a kinship with my blog friends. Over the years it has worked out (not coincidentally, I believe) for me to meet a few of them in person. It has been one of my favorite things about blogging and one of the biggest and best treasures to come from this trial. Even now that I don't blog as much as I used to, I've been able to keep up with several friends and get to know them a little bit better on pretty much a day-to-day basis through facebook and email. Oh, how I wish I could meet all of them in real life!

What really amazes me now is to be able to see all of our paths in hindsight. None of our experiences were exactly the same. Some were more similar than others, but all of them were about longing and loss in one way or another. I always felt an extra special bond with those who shared not only my fight but also my faith. It's just one of those common denominators that often makes an instant connection.

My first in-real-life blog friend experience was in February of 2009 when I met Tammy. (I originally wrote about it here.) I didn't really "know" Tammy that well when it worked out for us to meet, but we didn't want to pass up the opportunity and I'm so glad we didn't. Our friendship has blossomed ever since that day. Thinking back to where we both were in 2009 and all that has happened since is pretty incredible. Tammy and her husband are such a precious couple, and it was a joy to watch as they brought home their beautiful daughter, Hannah, at Christmas just a couple of months ago! I am still over-the-moon excited for them.

Just a few months later, in May 2009, I found myself on vacation with my whole family in a cozy and beautiful cabin in Tennessee. While we were planning the trip, I realized that we wouldn't be very far away from a dear blog friend in North Carolina, Beth. It was settled: we were going to set up a meeting! (Read more about our meeting here.) Beth and I had been communicating frequently through email ever since I'd first discovered her blog the previous year. I felt an instant connection with her and we'd formed a fast friendship. She and I shared so many griefs and fears together, and amazingly, we've celebrated with these dear friends as they've welcomed not one, not two, but THREE gorgeous boys into their family since then! It still gives me goosebumps just thinking about it.

Fast forward to just a little over a year later, in July 2010. I had discovered a while before that one of my sweet blog friends lived not too far from my hometown in Louisiana. I knew then that I was destined to meet Crystal during one of my trips back home, and I was so touched that our first meeting happened at my baby shower. (I wrote more about it here.) We were expecting Lily in September, and it was very sweet to share that time together as Crystal was also expecting her miracle baby boy that December. Our meeting is a very special memory of an amazing, almost ethereal time for me -- for us both, I'm sure, as we found ourselves in the middle of our long-awaited and much prayed for healthy pregnancies. It has been a special treat to be able to visit with Crystal and her adorable son twice more since then, at Christmas of 2010 when our babies were tiny and again last Christmas as they toddled around and played together. This friendship has been such a sweet gift!

That brings me to 2012, and the addition of a fourth friend to this special list of treasures. At the end of last month on our way back from visiting family in Oklahoma, we were able to stop by the home of my blog friend, Jessica. Our trip would take us within just a few miles of their house, not far from the interstate, and it was the perfect opportunity for our families to meet. Jessica and I had an amazing moment not long after she found my blog when we realized that we'd attended the same college. We never knew each other there, but before long we also made the connection that she and my husband had both grown up right there in that small college town and had -- brace yourselves -- graduated from high school together! Oh, I just love the way God works things out. We had a wonderful visit with Jessica and her husband, and we were thrilled to be able to meet their precious new miracle girl, just 7 weeks old. It was the kind of meeting where everything just clicked and it was as natural and easy as being with old friends. We are so thankful that we got to meet these friends face-to-face after sharing in the struggle, and it touched my heart to watch our daughter play in their daughter's room. What a blessing it was!


To each and every one of the special friends we've "met" along the way, I hope you know what a treasure YOU are.

2012

Here we are, one week into another new year.

Before we had Lily, New Year's was always one of the most difficult times for me. Sure, I guess that somewhere deep down there was just a smidge of hope that it might be our year to have a baby. But honestly, as the years passed, that hope for me had begun to shrivel and shrink until it was almost completely unrecognizable. It had become a challenge to face another year that may contain yet another miscarriage and even more heartache and longing.

As this new year approached, about two weeks before Christmas I found myself in a familiar place -- my bathroom, waiting for the results of a home pregnancy test. (It was negative.) It wasn't the kind of situation where we'd been planning and trying and scheduling doctor visits, and now today was the day to test. Instead, it was more of a wait-a-minute-I'm-several-days-late kind of situation, one where I thought that maybe, just maybe, there could be a baby there without all the stress and worry and agony over what might happen if we tried again, and without all of the dates and schedules and medicines. I thought there could be a slim chance, so I did something I hadn't done in almost two years. In fact, I hadn't done it since January 20, 2010 -- the day we found out I was pregnant for the seventh time and the pregnancy that gave us our take-home baby.

So, I woke up that morning and opened a fresh box of pregnancy tests and waited to see if my world was about to change in one way or another. It didn't.

And I was disappointed. But instead of letting it overwhelm me, I scooped up my toddler and went to the kitchen to feed her some breakfast and tried to carry on with our daily routine. During the next week I waited for that confirmation to come but it didn't, so I took another test a week later just to be sure. Still negative. Just two days before the new year -- a new cycle. A fresh start, so to speak.

And so 2012 began for me in a way that was familiar but not necessarily welcomed. It would have been a wonderful, amazing surprise, but I'm not despairing. As for trying again, we're trying not to stress about it. For right now, it would be wonderful if it happened, but we're not letting it consume our thoughts. We're just living in a place where we want to be content with where we are, with our family of three, but we're still allowing ourselves to dream that the Lord may give us another child.

We're hoping. We're trusting. And we're following His plan for our family in 2012.

Just Lucky?

Thanks for the encouraging comments on my last post. It's good to know that I'm not alone in my feelings, but at the same time I always hate that others are struggling with some aspect of infertility, too.

We had a lovely anniversary. It was on a Monday this year, so it was a regular work day for my husband and a regular day at home for Lily and me. That evening the three of us went out to dinner together to celebrate. We weren't at all sad that we weren't able to go out alone on that day. That's nice to do, but it was really great to be together. We had 12 anniversaries without children and were so happy to have her with us for the occasion this year.

Two days later we had our follow-up visit with our RE. We have to drive into Houston to get there so we dropped Lily off with her aunt (my sister-in-law), who was very excited to spend some one-on-one time with her. (That evening Lily stayed with her aunt again for a couple of hours while we went out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary... again. We had a very nice time but we sure did miss our girl! It was so sweet to come back to her smiling face.)

It felt very strange to be back at the doctor's office. There was a couple in the elevator with us on the way out who looked nervous and uncertain, and we both wondered what kind of news they had gotten or what they were facing. We said nothing to them, though, because we know there just aren't any words that help during that time. Still, our hearts were very sensitive to those around us who were still waiting on their babies. And while I would have liked for Lily to have met Dr. G, I was glad she was happily playing at Aunt Allie's house instead of in the waiting room with us, just in case it might have caused anyone additional sadness or hurt.

As I wrote in the last post, I was unsure what to expect from this appointment going into it. I was not expecting that it would be treated as my well-woman exam. Frankly, I thought I was going to remain clothed during the visit and was a bit surprised when we were led to an exam room and I was instructed to undress from the waist down. No harm done, of course -- I'm used to those appointments by now. And I don't have to worry about having another well-woman visit for a whole year, which is always good.

The checkup didn't take long and we did have a little bit of time to chat with the doctor. My main question that I wanted to ask was whether he thought that using Femara and Ovidrel was what made the difference for this pregnancy. Did it help our chances because we started with a really good egg? I had, of course, hoped that the answer would be yes. Unfortunately, his response was that we had either started with a really good egg... OR we had just gotten lucky this time.

Now, I know that you know that I attribute Lily's existence to God and His power. That won't ever change! I won't dwell on the whole matter of God or luck in this post because I think it's clear to you what I believe. And I don't think that the doctor was trying to discount that either. I think that, in his medical opinion, he simply can't determine medically whether the fertility meds aided in the success of our seventh pregnancy, or whether it was just the one that worked.

To be honest with you, it was the answer I feared. It would have been great to know that we could identify exactly what to do to increase our chances of another successful pregnancy. It would have been so reassuring to know that we had a solution -- a way to avoid going back to where we've been so many times in the past when we've gotten pregnant and lost the baby.

If/when we do try again, we will have to make the choice of either trying on our own or doing what we did last time. Either way, I know it will be in God's hands.

I'm thankful that we do have Lily. I'm grateful that God intervened and gave us a beautiful daughter to love here on earth. I'm confident that He knows what my future holds even when I feel scared to move forward.

And, no matter how it turns out, I'm relieved that I can trust Him instead of relying on luck.

A Longing Fulfilled

After much consideration, I've decided to change my blog up a little. My hubby has been helping me create a new header and change the template, but the most important change is the title. I will still be sharing my thoughts about how infertility and miscarriage have affected my life; that's why I started a blog in the first place. My perspective has changed a bit now that my life has changed a great deal. I wanted to rename the blog to reflect that, using a favorite Bible verse:

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life." Proverbs 13:12

Miscarriage brought about a lot of changes in my life -- in who I am and how I relate to others, and in many other ways. It was my "hope deferred." All I ever wanted to do with my life was to be a wife and mother. It became very healing to write about my experience, but I wish that I had started blogging about it much earlier than I did. By the time I started blogging in 2008, I had lost six babies and, while I certainly wasn't alone thanks to my family and a few very supportive friends, I had been through recurrent pregnancy loss without having people around me who could truly understand what it felt like. My heart was sick, to say the least. I didn't know what else to do except to finally open up and write about it. I didn't know if anyone would ever read what I wrote, but it felt great just to get it all out.

The past few years have brought with them great healing for me. Blogging has been part of that. Having the opportunity to have a successful pregnancy was definitely a huge part of it. Bringing home a living, healthy, beautiful baby after so much pain and loss, after so many years of hoping, has been my longing fulfilled. Lily has changed my life and my heart. She is the answer to so many prayers. Every single day that I get to wake up and be her mother is an incredible blessing to me. It's something I don't take for granted. And I know I say this often, but I can't forget about the babies that I lost. I don't want to forget about them. They didn't live or grow for very long inside my body, but they certainly did in my heart. They were loved and they were wanted and we will always feel their absence. I believe that one day we will see them again, although I have no idea what it will look like or feel like when that happens. But it makes me look forward to heaven even more.

So, this is the same book, I guess, but a different chapter. It's still part of my story, and I'm very grateful to those of you who read it.

Thankful

This year it's easy for me to say that I'm thankful. I have an amazing baby girl who is healthy and happy and here to stay, and that's something that I wasn't sure could ever happen. That is certainly reason to give thanks to the Lord! My heart is full of joy for this holiday season.

For many years it was hard for me to say what I was thankful for. Don't get me wrong; it's not that I wasn't thankful or didn't appreciate my loving family and precious friends. I have a husband who loves and supports me no matter what, and I loved the life and the home that we'd made together. All of that was true, but at the same time my heart was hurting. I knew that, if asked at Thanksgiving what I was thankful for, I wouldn't be able to speak without breaking down. For a long time I allowed the wonderful things in my life to be overshadowed by my grief and heartache.

It was around the time that I began to blog and really open up about my feelings about recurrent pregnancy loss that my heart started to change. I felt like there might be some meaning in all of this and some way of reaching out by sharing my experience. I had no idea how large the community of IF bloggers was when I started, but finding it really helped to give me a sense of purpose through that trial. To know that there were others out there who understood was also a huge help for me. Before long I was once again able to feel thankfulness -- even though I was still in the midst of a painful struggle.

Soon I realized that I could be thankful not just in spite of what I'd been through, but because of it. Let me be clear about this, though. I'm NOT thankful for miscarriage. I wish I had never gone through that horror in the first place and I wish that no one else ever had to experience it either.

But I AM thankful for...

• Learning to lean on my Heavenly Father, and knowing from experience that He will never leave my side, even when I'm full of fear, doubt, and anger.
• Learning that with God, nothing is impossible.
• Seeing firsthand that I was much stronger than I ever thought I could be.
• Reassurance that I married the most caring and loving man who would stick by me through thick and thin.
• Renewed faith in the love and support of family and friends who prayed for us so faithfully.
• An entire online community of new friends who encouraged me along the way and helped me find some good in a bad situation.

I could really go on and on! All of this came out of some pretty dreadful years when I felt like I was struggling just to keep my head above water. Those are the reasons why I can look back on that time and be thankful for what came out of it. I can now be so grateful for where I am today, Thanksgiving 2010.

Thank you for contributing to that, for sharing in my joy now and for holding me up when I needed support then. Wishing you all a very Happy Thanksgiving!

On Infertility and Faith

(Normally when I get ready to type a post, I sit down and write what I want to say and hit "publish." It usually takes me about an hour to write and proofread it. This post, however, is one that I've been chewing on for several days before putting it out there. It's been on my mind this week after the combination of an article I read and an e-mail from a friend. I'd be interested in your feedback if you wish to share it!)

I wish we lived in a world where people who desperately wanted to have children could always succeed. I think it will always hurt my heart that this isn't so.

One of the many things about infertility that is so hard to grasp is that it's not the kind of journey where it always ends the same way and everyone gets a baby. I know that, and while it may be hard to hear this from me at this time in my life, that's where I thought my journey might very well go. While I always prayed, hoped, and wished for children of my own to love and raise here on earth, I had no guarantee that it would really happen one day. I had absolutely no way of knowing whether I would ever have a normal pregnancy. Even though that's what I hoped for and tried to achieve, in my mind I knew that I needed to plan for either outcome. Children or no children. That was by far one of the hardest parts of my journey, aside from losing my babies to miscarriage.

There are so many positive-sounding pieces of advice that we've probably heard all of our lives, like "If you work really hard at something and don't give up, you will succeed." Or, to quote Back to the Future (part one), "If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything." And there's the old standby, "Good things come to those who wait." These might work 99% of the time in business or many other areas of life, but they just don't apply to infertility. "Hang in there" and "don't give up" don't necessarily always work with having a baby. With that being said, I firmly believe that you should pray and try and seek medical help for as long as you can or want to or have the means to, if your desire is to have a baby. I think you should give it your all and plead with the Lord to intervene. But I don't think that the right combination of effort, good luck, positive thinking, and strong faith are what will make a baby.

I always would cringe when someone told me that my pregnancy would work if I had enough faith or if I just thought happy, positive thoughts. You can imagine how I felt when it didn't work. What was wrong with me? How did I manage to mess this up again? Was my faith really so weak?

While I'm not always the world's most positive person, I think I do okay at having a decent attitude most of the time. And I certainly am a person of faith. Without my faith, I don't know where I would be. But I don't think that having faith in my amount of faith will get me very far! And I don't even think that the key was having faith that I would one day have a baby, because I knew deep down in my heart that it might not happen for me. I could have faith as small as a mustard seed or as huge as a mountain, but the size of my faith doesn't affect my ability to carry a baby to term. (Stay with me here!)

Faith in my Lord's ability to act, on the other hand, is what matters. One of the lessons I learned through recurrent pregnancy loss was that I needed to focus my faith and my trust on my Savior, and on Him alone: on who He is and what He can do. My job is to believe, but it's His job to act. I was beginning to place all of my faith in having a baby someday, just knowing that if I could do that I would be happy and fulfilled. I came to see that God was the only one who could make this happen for me. He was the only one who could give me joy, peace, and fulfillment, and He was certainly the only one who could put life in my womb. Now, that didn't mean that he ultimately would make that happen. What it meant to me was that I needed to trust Him and have faith in His ability to act no matter what. As hard as it was for me to grasp, I had to learn that He would still be Lord and He would still be sovereign even if I never had children.

As I wrote about in my last post, the Bible tells us that nothing is impossible with God. This is a wonderful promise for the barren woman today, just as it was for Elizabeth way back then! I firmly believe that sometimes this is the message that might just help someone to keep pressing on when they feel like giving up. God can do the impossible, which is immensely encouraging when you feel that your situation is impossible! That's where I was without a doubt. I couldn't see how my crazy, death-trap of a womb would ever become a good home for a baby. I had tried and failed six times and had no real answer or solution, no guarantee that our seventh attempt would be any different. But we hoped and prayed for a miracle anyway, and we trusted that it was up to the Lord to give and sustain life to this baby.

Believing in the impossible (translated = believing that God could do the impossible and praying that He would) helped us to carry on and find the courage to give it another try. And by His grace, our baby is surviving. It's not because we had faith in our amount of faith (because believe me, I know I didn't). It's because God acted and because He is God. I don't think for one second that I'm still carrying this baby because I finally figured out the right formula. On the contrary, I take every opportunity to make sure that it is God and only God who gets the glory for this miracle.
(I recently read a great article about this topic of faith on the Desiring God blog that I thought was so helpful. It certainly explains things much better than I could. Here's the link if you'd like to check it out: Peter: When the Rock Sunk Slowly)

I've come to realize that there are several other places in Scripture where we see examples of this. It appears that Jesus healed many people on the basis of their faith. It would be easy to think that they were healed simply because they had tremendous faith. But if we look closely, we can see that they had faith specifically in the fact that they knew and believed that Jesus was able:

As Jesus went on from there, two blind men followed him, calling out, "Have mercy on us, Son of David!" When he had gone indoors, the blind men came to him, and he asked them, "Do you believe that I am able to do this?"
"Yes, Lord," they replied. Then he touched their eyes and said, "According to your faith will it be done to you"; and their sight was restored... (Matthew 9:27-30)
(See also Matthew 9:20-22; Luke 7:1-10)

Something else that I've seen in my reading this week is the reminder that there is power in prayer. I believe this with all of my heart, which is why I've prayed for so many years for our children and why I continue to pray diligently for each of you. I'm reminded of Hannah's story in 1 Samuel, as well as this verse in Genesis 25:21, "Isaac prayed to the LORD on behalf of his wife, because she was barren. The LORD answered his prayer, and his wife Rebekah became pregnant." The Bible invites us again and again to approach the Lord with confidence and bring our requests to Him with expectant hope. (Ephesians 3:12; Hebrews 4:16; 1 John 5:14-15)

At this point let me say that I know that some people who have walked the road of infertility and/or miscarriage will prayerfully come to a time when they feel that it's right for them to stop pursuing pregnancy or treatment. I think this is a brave decision that takes far more trust and faith in the Lord that I can fully imagine. And I don't believe that it is lack of faith or "giving up." I don't understand why loving, caring, wonderful people who want to have children sometimes won't have the opportunity to do so. I'll never understand that, and knowing some of the truly wonderful women in my life who haven't had children and yet always wanted to will always make my heart ache. Another thing I've learned on this journey is that adoption, as wonderful as I think it is and as much joy as I've seen it bring to families over the years, just isn't realistically an option for all couples in all situations all the time.

I believe that sometimes God may be telling us to stop. I would never, ever second-guess a person who felt like this was where they were on their infertility journey. I have absolutely no doubt that it is also in His ability to give that person peace and fulfillment in their life. (That may very well be the part of your situation that feels impossible!) That is my prayer for all of us, no matter what the end of our struggle may look like.

But, unless that is where your journey has taken you, I'll be here to encourage you to keep pressing on and believing that God can do the impossible. He can change our hearts and even our circumstances. I'm living proof.

For Friends Who Are Hurting

Sometimes our circumstances are hard. Sometimes they're beyond hard and it seems like more than we can bear.

During my most difficult times I needed to be reminded that God was still good. It didn't help much (or at all) to hear that my baby wasn't meant to be or that I was still young and it would happen one day. It didn't help when people tried to comfort me by saying that at least I knew I could get pregnant. What I needed was someone to listen and try to understand instead of trying to put a tiny bandaid on my gaping wound. I struggled with my faith. My faith had never, ever been tested as it was during my years of one loss after another. I had never learned how hard it would be to trust God when my circumstances were terrible and I was at rock bottom.

I know what it's like to be angry, even at God. I know how it feels when you can't find the words to pray. While I have blogged through some pretty tough times, I didn't have this blog during my hardest times. I never wrote out my feelings of utter despair while going through a miscarriage. I don't know why it happened this way, because I'm sure I could have used the support during those times. For some reason I didn't think to start a blog until I could write about most of my pain in retrospect. Maybe that was a good thing in a way. I'm telling you this because I want you to know that you haven't seen me at my worst. You haven't seen me when I doubted that God actually cared about me and my barrenness, when I wanted to give up, and when I felt like my life was completely meaningless.

Fortunately it has been a long time since I've felt many of those things. While waiting three years for another pregnancy was far from easy, I did have a long break from experiencing miscarriage. For six years the losses had come back to back, one every year. That was an incredibly hard time for us, and even though we were trying again for another pregnancy, we were grateful for the break from losing babies. No, our problems were not solved. Our journey had not come to an end. We still didn't have children to love here on earth, but it did give us time to reflect and time to process some things.

One of my biggest struggles had been letting my circumstances and emotions determine whether or not I was happy. When times were good, God was good, and I was blessed and happy. When times were bad... well, you get the picture. It took a long time for me to put into practice what Paul taught in the Bible. Rejoice in the Lord always. How could he say that? How could God expect me to rejoice when my babies were dying? The truth was that I could be sad and angry and full of grief and yet still rejoice in the Lord. Joyful doesn't always mean happy-go-lucky, and my happiness has little to do with whether or not I am blessed. I had to learn that He was still good even when my circumstances were not good. When I rejoice in the Lord, I cannot lose that joy because He is always good. (For another post about this topic, click here.)

I have some friends who are going through really hard times right now. It's difficult to see friends going through trials, and when they are blog friends it's hard because I can't be there in person to sit with them, cry with them, and just be beside them. What I can do is pray and offer as much support as possible, and that's what I try to do. I would never claim to understand how everyone feels about loss. I know what I've been through and what I've felt, but I also know that everyone is different. People feel different things and grieve in different ways.

I know that in the middle of a trial there are very few words that help. I'm not writing this post to try to fix anyone's pain. These are things that I'm still working out myself. I have no idea exactly how I might handle another loss at this point and I hate to even think about it. I'd love to say that the lessons I've been learning and storing up in my heart would be what would come out. That's what I hope would happen even through my pain, but it's hard to say.

I do know this, friend: If your faith is weak right now, you can count on the fact that others are praying for you when you can't find the words or the strength. I pray that you'll hold onto the Lord even when He seems far away, and I pray that you'll hold onto hope.

A Lesson From Joseph

I have a lot of favorite stories and people from the Bible. It would be hard to pick my very favorite. Certainly living through infertility has made me grow very fond of people like Sarah, Hannah, Elizabeth, Rachel, and Rebekah. But I also love to read about the life of Daniel, someone of great moral character whose life is a testament to faithfulness and obedience, and whom God used in such powerful ways. My husband's dear grandfather was named after him and he truly lived a life worthy of that name!

Another one of my favorite Biblical figures is Joseph (the one whose father was Jacob, not Mary's husband Joseph, although his is a remarkable story as well). Yesterday I read something really great over at the Desiring God blog about the life of Joseph. It is a fantastic post about how the circumstances we may be facing don't necessarily tell our whole story. I think it will speak to you as much as it did to me! I hope you'll take the time to click over and read the original post, called Staying Faithful When Things Get Worse.

Here is an excerpt from it. I hope it's just enough to draw you in so you'll click over for the rest of the story:

Darkness had swallowed the light again. Joseph dreaded the night in this foul Egyptian hellhole. It was hard to fight off the relentless hopelessness as he awaited the escape of sleep.

Day after monotonous day passed with no sign of change. The familiar desperation surged hot in his chest. His youth was seeping out the cracks of his cage. He was pacing in his soul. Joseph wanted to scream.

Fists to his forehead he pleaded again with God in the dark for deliverance.

And he remembered. It was the remembering that kept his hope alive and bitterness at bay...

Click HERE to read the rest.

Come back and leave me a comment about what you thought of the post after you read it. I'd love to know your thoughts!

Remember several years ago when Dream.Works released an animated film called Joseph: King of Dreams? I've always liked it, and I particularly love one of the songs featured in the movie during Joseph's time in prison. I was happy to find the clip to attach to this post and share with you. It's a great little song with a message that I always need to hear. Hope you enjoy it. I'll copy the lyrics for you below as well.



Better Than I

I thought I did what's right
I thought I had the answers
I thought I chose the surest road
But that road brought me here
So I put up a fight
And told You how to help me
Now just when I have given up
The truth is coming clear

You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For You know better than I

If this has been a test
I cannot see the reason
But maybe knowing I don't know
Is part of getting through
I try to do what's best
And faith has made it easy
To see the best thing I can do
Is put my faith in You, for

You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
For You know better than I

I saw one cloud and thought it was the sky
I saw a bird and thought that I could follow
But it was You who taught that bird to fly
If I let you reach me
Will you teach me?

For You know better than I
You know the way
I've let go the need to know why
I'll take what answers You supply
You know better than I

Waiting and Hoping

Our long wait between appointments is finally almost over. The next ultrasound is only two days away, on Thursday morning.

The good news is that I haven't seen or felt anything out of the ordinary (well, you know, out of the ordinary for a normal person). My symptoms are definitely still around. My sweet husband must feel like his only job in the world right now is keeping me fed! As always, he is taking tremendous care of me and has been making up for my severe lack of energy and voracious appetite by handling most of the housework and all of the cooking. I am so very thankful for him!

The only thing that could be classified as bad news right now is my memory. I wish I could forget about every awful ultrasound that we've ever had. I wish I didn't go into each new appointment with those terrible memories around to make my stomach turn and my heart race. I'm sure my nerves would be around to do that to me anyway. So far I have been doing okay at keeping calm. I haven't had any major freak-out moments and I'm trying really hard not to dwell on the past. It's hard to do, but I'm trying to consider this pregnancy an experience all its own.

In keeping with the "one day at a time" mindset, I've been making it part of my daily routine to thank the Lord for each new day. I know, this is something I should have been doing every day of my life anyway! But it has really helped me to focus on today and try not to worry about the past or about tomorrow. Of course I'm praying for this entire pregnancy from beginning to end, which I hope will be a long time, but thanking God for THIS day and the answered prayer of today alone gives me comfort.

So, for now we are still waiting and hoping. We're thankful for today and hopeful for tomorrow, and praying that each new day will bring us closer to bringing home a happy, healthy baby.

I'm keeping you all in my prayers. If I don't already know from your blogs or from e-mails, please let me know how I can pray for you!

Feeling Down

Holidays do funny things to me. Let me tell you, I'm a sucker for seasonal things. Here in Texas we don't exactly have all four seasons outside, but every year I'm determined to celebrate the season inside my home. I just love holidays. Even if no one (besides my husband and myself) ever saw the decorations, I would still decorate!

That's why this post is hard for me to write.

Lately I've noticed that it's getting harder and harder to conjure up those same old feelings of joy for holidays. I think with each passing year, the emptiness in my heart and in my home become harder to ignore.

Certainly there is joy and happiness and love in my heart and in my home. My husband and I are very happy with our marriage and in our little family of two. But there is a huge, unfulfilled desire that neither of us can ignore. We want children. We want to be parents. There is a void there for us both. There is an empty place in both of our hearts and in our home where our children should be. The holidays remind me of this.

Last week was so hard for me. I couldn't keep my eyes dry for very long, and it seemed that I was surrounded by a flood of emotions. The truth is, sometimes I struggle. Sometimes I feel like I don't do anything that makes a difference or amounts to much outside of these four walls. Sure, as a homemaker I have lots of responsibilities at home. I keep the house clean and the laundry done, on top of many other daily tasks. This is probably true for many people out there, but sometimes I don't feel needed. I don't feel necessary.

Oh, I imagine that there are parents who have those feelings, too. And sure, you can call it a pity party if you want. I'm just keeping it real and keeping it honest.

Halloween was just the very beginning of the whole holiday season. I don't recall ever being this affected by it in years past. Although I'm not necessarily a huge fan of Halloween in particular, I felt a huge absence this time. It was pretty quiet here. We spent the weekend with friends who were visiting. Our doorbell was rung only twice by trick-or-treaters that night. My sister sent photos of my adorable nephews dressed up in their costumes (they were a very handsome duo of Luigi and Wolverine). Countless friends posted pictures on Facebook of their cute little marauders. And I felt sad. Even in the days leading up to it, I felt so empty and so burdened by our situation.

Last Friday we went to see my two very favorite Christian artists, Bebo Norman and Jeremy Camp, in concert. It was a fairly small crowd and it was a special treat for me. We had great seats and it was a great show. I was particularly touched by the words to a couple of familiar Jeremy Camp songs that I've heard over and over again:

I still believe in Your faithfulness
I still believe in Your truth
I still believe in Your holy word
Even when I don't see, I still believe

and

I will walk by faith
Even when I cannot see
Because this broken road
Prepares Your will for me

It truly was like a balm for my hurting heart, because I'll admit, right now I don't see. I cannot always see the big picture in this.

I know that the holidays are just getting started. I hope as the weeks pass and as my decorations change from autumn to winter, from Thanksgiving to Christmas, that we might begin to feel the excitement that usually comes with it. I hope that we'll focus on the many good things that have kept us happy and strong for all these years: our family, our friends, each other, and our hope and trust in our Lord.

Even when I don't see, I still believe.

All The Time

Last year at this time I said goodbye to my home and nearly everything I own.

I remember that moment before I closed the door and got into the car to drive away. I just stood there for a few minutes, looking around, and I thought Okay, Lord. I don't want to do this, but I have to. If you decide to take it all away, then so be it.

It's so much easier to write that a year later, after many people have put their lives and homes back together after the devastation of Hurricane Ike. This weekend is the first anniversary of that terrible storm. We are extremely comfortable right now, by comparison. This has been a quiet hurricane season for those of us who live near the Gulf coast.
Thankfully, we didn't lose our home, although many did -- and not just people we saw on the local news. People we know.

I don't want to make it sound as though I think losing material possessions is the worst thing in the world. I don't, but I still don't want to go through that terrible trial if I don't have to! I remember during the days of our evacuation how we watched The Weather Channel sometimes with panic and sometimes with resignation. We desperately hoped everything would be alright. Coming to a place, however, where you must say that it will be okay if you come home to nothing is quite a struggle. As a homemaker, it goes against every ounce of my being that loves keeping house and making a home for my family. The idea of a strong wind, or flood waters, or a storm surge carrying it all away is unsettling to say the least.

But I know people who have lived through it. They've picked up the pieces that were left and they've carried on. What's even more inspiring, though, is that they've found joy through the storm.

It is so, so hard to be joyful inside and to give God praise when things aren't going our way. It's easy to say that He is good when our circumstances are good -- and we should! But oh, the challenge is to say that and believe it when they are not.

But God is still good.
Even through hurricanes and infertility, He's good.
All the time.

The Love of God

I've heard it said many times that a person can't fully understand the love of God until they've become a parent.

Many people have stated that it wasn't until they saw, held, raised, loved, and cared for their own children that they truly realized how much God loves them and what the sacrifice of His own Son on the cross of Calvary really was.

I hope you know me well enough by now to hear my heart here if you're a regular reader of this blog. If you are not, please understand that I don't know what having and raising my own children is like. I may never know. And I would certainly never, ever take away from a person's own experience of parenting. I don't doubt at all that so many have better understood God's love through parenting. If having children is the way that our Heavenly Father has helped you to truly realize and grasp His amazing love for you, then I think that is a wonderful thing.

What bothers me, however, is the idea that NO ONE can understand it unless they've become a parent. It is one of those statements that I hear that, as a barren woman, cuts so deeply.

I wonder if anyone who has thought or said this has ever realized how much an infertile Christian woman relies upon the love of her Lord. In fact, I would even say that I may not have realized the greatness of it until I experienced infertility! And perhaps that is just the point I'm trying to make here. We all have different paths, different trials and afflictions that we will face in life. We will even have different joys and different blessings. And we all will decide how to accept and live with all of the combined circumstances that make up our lives. I believe that God is big enough and strong enough to reveal His deep and relentless love to His children no matter where they are in life, whether they will ever experience the joys of childbirth and parenthood or not.

It is unfair to suggest to someone that she may never understand God's love and sacrifice until she has a child. Many of us can identify with a portion (however small) of what He may have felt when He sacrificed His only Son. Although I've never held any of my children in my arms or looked upon their faces or even called them by name, I knew them and loved them while they were a part of my body and after they were no longer. Many have had to continue to live after having lost a child inside or outside of the womb. Furthermore, many have had to face the fact that they may never have any children. This too, friends, is sacrifice.

For me, it is the very love of my Lord that gets me through that pain every single day.

I understand sacrifice. I understand love. I don't know if any of us can ever truly grasp the depth of God's love until we see Him face to face. Until then, if the Lord has used giving you a child to reveal His love to you, what a wonderful and special gift! If instead He has used infertility to reveal how much He loves you with an undying love, what a wonderful and special gift that can be as well.

Your Love is Deep (song lyrics by Jami Smith)

Your love is deep
Your love is high
Your love is long
Your love is wide

Deeper than my view of grace
Higher than this worldly place
Longer than this road I travel
Wider than the gap You filled

Who shall separate us?
Who shall separate us from Your love?
Nothing can separate us
Nothing can separate us from Your love

(Ephesians 3:17-21 NIV)
I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.
Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

A Life Well Lived

On Tuesday my husband's grandfather passed away. It occurs to me as I try to write about him that it would take volumes to record all that should be said about this man. He was the kind of person about whom moving tributes are written. I will try to do him justice here on this little blog.

Last November I wrote a little bit about Chuck's "Pop" and his other grandfather for Veteran's Day. I have absolutely adored every moment of the past 13 years with all four of my husband's grandparents. We were so fortunate to have them for as long as we did, and that was something we both recognized all along. Since 2007, both of my father-in-law's parents have passed away, and my mother-in-law's father suffered a major stroke. Pop had been in a nursing home for 15 months before his death, and his daily struggle to recover was truly inspirational to everyone who knew him. But that was just the way he was. He was the kind of person who inspired others.



Pop was born in 1922, way down in southeast Louisiana, practically in the Gulf of Mexico. His father was a boat builder and his mother was a midwife. Pop grew up speaking French as his first language. He learned English in school, but always told us that his thoughts and even his dreams were still in French. From an early age he learned how to build wooden boats with his father. Pop joined the Army as a young man and served his country in World War II. He was able to use his knowledge of his native language as an interpreter while serving in France. Pop survived five major battles in his Tank Destroyer battalion while overseas and had a reputation among the servicemen for being the fastest foxhole digger. After he finished digging, he would sit on the edge of his foxhole and read his New Testament. Pop was a man of great faith, and he later became an ordained Baptist minister, pastor, and lifelong missionary, preaching sermons in French in small mission churches across South Louisiana. He and his amazing wife married in 1946 and raised three daughters (the eldest is my mother-in-law). Pop was such a devoted family man. I was always touched by his love for his wife and the way they shared every task together as a team. They had a beautiful marriage.



After he retired, Pop devoted his later years to his woodworking and carpentry hobbies, and he always had a list of projects to do for other people. Even on the day of his stroke last year, he was busy working in his shop on remodeling projects for their bathroom. He was also an amazing artist, drawing landscapes from his childhood memories with remarkable accuracy. Pop was known all over his community for his "napkin art," the beautiful pen and ink sketches he would "doodle" and give to everyone he met.



After his stroke, Pop lost the use of his right side as well as his ability to speak. During the months in the nursing home, however, he learned to use his left hand to continue his passion for drawing and to communicate his love to his family and friends by making the sign for "I love you."

Carpenter, soldier, war hero, pastor, father, grandfather, missionary, veteran, friend, volunteer, craftsman, artist, husband of 63 years -- these are all part of his legacy. Any one of those things would be remarkable enough, but Pop embodied all of them. Beyond what you've read here about his life and his work, he was also a man of impeccable character. He had a kind and gentle way about him. The words I've most often heard used to describe him are "sweet" and "precious." He always greeted me with a smile, a big hug, a kiss on the cheek, and the words "Hey, cher!" (which means "dear" in French). Pop loved people and he loved to visit, but he was a man of few words. He loved to sit and enjoy company, and he would listen and laugh but he never did dominate a conversation. Oh, he had great stories to tell, but he rarely took the floor. I think it's just another way that he showed how much he cared for others. He always put them first. Granny and Pop remained active in their community and church well into their 80s, serving as volunteers and giving all that they could to those in need. I have no doubt that his wife will continue this tradition for as long as possible now that he is gone. I will always remember how Pop loved the Lord, and how that love spilled over into his great love and service for others.



I know this is a long post to read about someone that most of you never met. I have so many of these little treasures tucked away in my memory, just like the beautiful pieces of carpentry and art that decorate nearly every room of my home and were made by his hands. Just one more story and then I'll be done.

I had always noticed that my sweet husband took after his Pop in so many ways. When he was young, he liked to draw and paint. Now that he is an adult, his favorite hobby is woodworking. He loves to build and create things, and he is so handy around the house. Also, he loves people, but he is very quiet in a crowd, just like his grandfather. But one day I truly saw how similar they were in the most adorable way. Chuck was being ordained as a deacon in our church, and Granny and Pop had come for the occasion. We were getting ready to have sandwiches for lunch, and I walked into the kitchen to find Pop standing all alone at the counter, "drawing" on his bread with the bottle of mustard - not for anyone's entertainment, but simply for his own amusement. I stood watching him and smiling, because I'd seen my own husband doing the same thing so many times before. Honestly, I can't think of anyone I would rather see my husband emulate. If he continues to grow up to be just like his Pop, I will be one happy girl!

We've just returned home from being with family for several days for the funeral. It was so moving to see all of the people whose lives have been touched by this incredible man. The whole time I kept thinking to myself, What a man. What a legacy. It was a life well lived, and he didn't waste a moment of his 87 years. I am so honored to have known him and to have been loved as one of his own.