Why We're Not "Trying For A Boy"

The questions are inevitable. We should all be used to them by now.

When you're single everyone wants to know why you're not dating. When you're dating they want to know why you're not married yet. As soon as you tie the knot, they want to know when babies are coming, and look out if this takes longer than people find reasonable. As soon as you have the first baby, and especially after he or she starts having birthdays, they want to know when the sibling will arrive. And so on...

I vividly remember the young anesthesiologist in the operating room when Anna was about to be born. It wasn't the guy who couldn't successfully administer the spinal block, nor the guy who came to relieve him and give me the epidural. It was the guy who was up near my head during the whole surgery, watching my blood pressure and vitals. Needless to say, after all the (painful) drama surrounding the failed spinal block I was not exactly in a relaxed state! But bless his heart, he was trying to make conversation and trying to take my mind off of things. He asked if this would be my first baby and I told him I had a 2-year-old daughter. Did we know the new baby's gender? Yes, another girl, I said. His immediate reaction was my new favorite question (not): Are you going to try for a boy?

I looked up at him incredulously and managed a chuckle, telling him I was pretty positive this was it for me. It was such a ridiculous time to ask such a question that I even heard my doctor laughing from the other side of the drape.

That wasn't the only time we've heard the question. Really, I do know that most of the time people don't mean to offend or be rude or nosy. But I can't help but wonder sometimes whether people actually think about these questions or what they may imply? To me, whether the following things are all intentional or not, the "try for a boy" question implies:

1. That we aren't satisfied with two girls.
Sometimes I want to shout it from the rooftops -- We are completely satisfied with two daughters! Both my husband and I are extremely grateful that God gave us children at all. We think parenting two daughters is an honor and a privilege. Their relationship with each other as sisters delights us on a daily basis. Even though we long ago imagined ourselves with girls, this does not mean we wouldn't have been equally grateful for or satisfied with boys. Children are a blessing! When you've been through the valley to get to your children, you don't sit around wishing that God had given you a different kind. You thank him daily for remembering you, for answering your heartfelt prayers, and for giving you your heart's desire. Our girls are precious and silly and hilarious and beautiful and fun! They are full of joy and full of life, and sometimes when I look at them I see a lifetime of sharing special moments with them as my daughters and my friends. And oh, when I see the sweet and special relationship they have with their daddy, it melts my heart.

2. That we're missing out on the ideal family by not having children of both genders.
I think there are some people out there who really think every man should have a son. That if he doesn't, he's missing out on a special bond. I personally think that's ridiculous. One family member who likes to joke around even suggested that my husband wasn't "manly" enough to produce boys. WOW. That may be the dumbest "joke" I've ever heard. Long before we ever had children, my husband and I had conversations about all the fun things he'd love to do with his daughter or son. And guess what? They were the exact same things. Who cares if you're playing with tea sets or trucks? The memories we've made as a family watching movies together, going to the zoo or the park, playing outside, having tickle fights, and going for ice cream would look much the same if we had girls, boys, or both. Those are the things that matter, not whether their rooms have pink curtains or blue ones. It makes my heart soar that I have a husband who cherishes his girls. Friends, there is nothing in the world more "manly" to me than a man who is secure enough in his masculinity to have a tea party and play with dolls with his daughters.
We've all heard that singsong response that people give sometimes when they have a boy and a girl: "One of each! Now our family is complete!" I'm here to tell you that MINE IS TOO. God completed his plan for our family when he gave us our two daughters.

3. That having children is easy or that it's all about getting the children we want.
I don't mind one bit when a friend asks whether or not we might try to have another baby. Someone who cares about me and my family, who knows a little (or a lot) about what we've been through, is certainly welcome to ask me about my family's future plans. But I have a hard time when it comes from an acquaintance who just wants to be nosy, or if it's phrased like having another child is just a walk in the park. I understand that it is, for some. But for so many it's not, and not only is it difficult, it's also painful to talk about sometimes. We don't all have the privilege of deciding exactly how many children we want and then going on with our lives, sitting back and watching it all fall into place with relative ease and convenience. I'm always tempted to respond to the question with either "None of your business" or giving the whole, long story of our struggle with infertility and miscarriage and everything it took to get to where we are. We fought hard to get here.
I'll admit, it gets under my skin when I hear others go on and on about their preferences when it comes to having children. Is that really what it's all about? I understand having a dream of one day having a daughter or son, specifically. I totally get that. But I believe that the decision rests with our Creator and that he alone designs each and every family as he sees fit. It's up to us to be the best parents we can be to the children he gives us (and in whatever way, by adoption or biologically). Each family is different and unique and special, and that's what makes it all so great. Of course, during the twelve years that my husband and I were married without children, we considered ourselves a family then, too. Families without children are just as special.

Believe me, I love little boys! I have nephews who are so dear to my heart that it feels like they came from my own body. Little boys are wonderful and I'm so glad to have some really special ones in my life. But God gave us wonderful, special girls. We love them with all of our hearts. We feel no need to "try for a boy." We are done, but even if we decided to have a third child, we'd be perfectly happy with a boy OR another girl.

We are content and satisfied. We have two girls. And we are complete.

Misconceptions

Some days it frustrates me to no end that the general population is still quite uneducated and uninformed about infertility and miscarriage. Now that most people I know have heard about my pregnancy and now that it's far more obvious when I go out in public, I'm never quite sure what I'm going to get.

Most of the time a stranger will simply ask when I'm due or whether it's a boy or a girl. No problem; those questions are easy enough to just give a simple reply and move on. And it's not that I mind sharing my story anymore, but I am not going to launch into it during a passing encounter with just anybody. On occasion, though, the time seems right or the question is one where it seems appropriate to go into a more detailed response.

Just this week I had to have some lab work done to check my thyroid, which I've done once a trimester. Unfortunately my doctor's office can't draw it so I have to have the blood work done at a separate lab nearby. There, in one of the private rooms, the lady asked me about my pregnancy. I answered that yes, I am pregnant (surprised that she wasn't sure at 8 months, but I understand people don't want to guess at these things), and she asked if I was excited about the baby coming. Oh yes, I said. We've been waiting a very long time for this. She inquired further about my history and I told her about the miscarriages and the struggles. So far, the conversation had gone as I expected. But then came the part that I always dread: "Well, I guess you finally quit 'trying' and your body figured out what to do. You know, a lot of women adopt a baby and then get pregnant."

I guess I'm not offended by these statements, but it still just frustrates me that this is where we end up. I don't know why it has to be about having a magic solution that fixed the problem. No, in fact we hadn't "given up" or "quit trying" and we were not on the verge of adopting a baby. People just don't seem satisfied with the fact that I can't pinpoint exactly what worked for us or fixed my messed up reproductive system. And really I guess it's just a minor annoyance; I just wish that more people understood. It's interesting how these are almost the very same things that used to bug me when I was trying to get pregnant. It's just another form of "just relax" and "why don't you adopt?"

Other times when I share my story, I will have someone say that everything we went through was all worth it to get to this point. I have mixed feelings about that. Was it worth all the years we spent waiting and wondering, seeing doctors and having surgeries, and spending money? I'd say a resounding YES. Not that all of that was easy by any means. And I know that many endure so much more of that than I ever did, and it absolutely can reach a point where it becomes too much to handle. I've certainly learned that not all paths of IF treatment are the same. For me, though, in my own personal experience and because our fertility treatment phase wasn't really very invasive or complex in the long run, what I went through was totally worth it to achieve a successful pregnancy.

The part that I have a problem with, however, is the part of my story where our babies died. I'll just never be comfortable with saying that was "worth it." Don't get me wrong -- I would give up life and limb for this baby I'm carrying. She is worth every tear that I've cried and every hope and dream that I thought had died. And I would walk this same road again if I could know that she was waiting for me at the finish line. I'm just not okay with the terminology that losing six babies could ever feel worth it. Those lives were incredibly precious to me as well. As hard as the waiting part was, the beauty is that there came a point where that part was over and done. Or, I guess more accurately, that point will come next month when this baby is born. I know that she will definitely have been worth the wait! It's not that I'll never have to wait for anything again, but finally that 9-year struggle with never knowing if or when or how will be over in an instant. While there has been healing in my heart from losing my babies, though, I don't think that part will ever really be gone. I don't doubt in any way that the Lord can continue to heal that hurt for me. I pray that He does! But my heart will never forget those babies that I carried and wished for and prayed for.

I hate the misconception that seems to be out there (outside of the IF community, of course) that miscarriage is not a big deal. Anyone who has experienced it or had someone close to them experience it knows otherwise. Anyone who has wished and prayed for a baby and then hoped with everything inside of them that their baby would survive knows otherwise. Even after I had been through it multiple times, I still had people in my life who were confused about why I was so upset. It still boggles my mind that sometimes even the most passionate pro-lifers can be so casual about the loss of a baby. People told me that it was so common. It happens to a lot of people. I needed to forget it and move on with my life. I was still young. I could always have another baby. But I knew in my mind and in my heart that there was no guarantee of that. The odds were definitely stacking up against me. Besides that, the events of the past several years had taken their toll on my body and I sure didn't feel very young anymore. I needed time to grieve, while people outside of my immediate circle didn't seem to understand.

On a related note, I got an e-mail the other day from an acquaintance of mine who had heard we were expecting a baby. I don't know this person very well at all, and it was a very simple, brief message that I'm sure meant well. It was only about three sentences long, including a quick hello, followed by "I heard you were pregnant and I'm excited for you," and then the part that got under my skin: "Things always have a way of working themselves out." I still haven't responded to the message because I don't know what to say. I suppose that a simple thank-you will have to do. I guess it's just a matter of opinion, but I don't personally believe that things always work out the way we want them to. If things really did "work themselves out," wouldn't my body have gotten on board a long time ago and before I lost so many unborn babies? I frankly don't consider what I've lived through for the past decade things working themselves out.

Who would think so? Who would have wished for this? Oh, I wished for a healthy pregnancy. I wished for that when I was a young, innocent bride of 21. I wished for it the first time I got that positive test at the age of 24. Of course I kept wishing for it during our years of loss, but I didn't just sit around the house wishing! It took a great deal of courage and facing our fears to keep going. We had to find the strength to pick ourselves up and try again. We had to seek out the right medical help. We had to grow up very quickly and realize that this wasn't going to be easy. We had to get through some hard times in our marriage, teeter on the edge of depression, and battle anxiety and worry and grief. If I were going to covet or be jealous of something, it would be the easy road! I would have wished for that first baby to have lived, followed by subsequent healthy pregnancies back when we were young and naive! I wouldn't have wished for or been envious of this road we've had to walk.
(Maybe you think I'm being too hard on the sender of that e-mail, but take my word for it. If you knew this person you'd know that it was his way of telling me that I did all that worrying and wondering for nothing. It's pretty frustrating to be made to feel like you were silly for ever feeling that way.)

As the saying goes, though, hindsight is 20/20. I have reached a point where I can be thankful for the difficult times. I can appreciate how that experience grew and changed us even though (and because) it was so hard. I'm simply saying that it would have been my natural tendency, of course, to hope for the easier and less painful way. I guess what I'm trying to say is that when I look back I don' think, "Wow, things really worked themselves out." No. Instead I think, "Thank the Lord that He brought us through." I know in my heart that there were times when I didn't think I would make it. That's when the lesson finally came through that His strength is perfect when mine is gone. I will always give God the glory for where we are now.

Remember those lessons in mercy that I wrote about last time? They are still being learned! I have to remind myself often to respond to people and comments with love and with mercy. And although most of the time, thankfully, it's not an issue, I'm learning to be prepared.

Comments

It has been great to bring you some pretty positive posts lately, and I have really enjoyed sharing these small victories with you so far! Let me say, too, that I know what it's like to wait when it seems that everyone around you is moving ahead. The fact that so many of you come here to support us and offer your encouragement even during your own struggles really touches my heart in a way I could never describe. Your comments and prayers are so precious to me, as are the ones from friends who have been where we've been, and from friends and family who have not but have invested in our story and our lives. We are so thankful for you guys during every single step of this journey. In these very anxious and uncertain days, it means so much to have you standing with me. It even gives me strength to know that if we found ourselves at the very bottom again, you'd still be there to pray for us. That is truly invaluable to us right now. I am grateful for every single one of your comments!

Thankfully, the good is really outweighing the bad when it comes to support and encouragement. But oh yes, the bad is still there, and I hope you won't mind if I just vent for a moment. There are still those whose intentions I know aren't bad, yet they still manage to say things that just get under my skin. I've been here many times before and I know that so many of you have, too! What is it that makes people say these things?

This week I called one of my relatives to tell him our news. After our last two appointments showed really good progress, I felt it was time to let him know as he was really the only close family member we hadn't told yet. (By the way, yes, this is early for us to be telling a lot of people, but so many of our family and close friends read the blog that I knew if I put it out here, we would have to make the decision to go ahead and tell certain people.) So, I called my relative and after a few minutes I found myself talking to his wife, which was definitely not what I would have chosen. And just as I thought would happen, she began telling me that all I needed to do was think positive thoughts and have enough faith that this was going to happen and everything would be just fine.

I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I tried to explain to her that we were hopeful and that we were very happy to have received such good news so far, but that we still had a long way to go at this point. I'm only 7 weeks into this, I said. She just wasn't hearing it. There is nothing more frustrating than someone who won't even hear you out because they are so determined to get their agenda across! Never mind the suggestion that my failure to do this six times before might have something to do with how little faith I had or how my thoughts just weren't happy enough.

I don't think anything gets under my skin worse than a comment that makes an infertile person feel like their condition, or their losses, were their fault. I'll be the first person to admit that my faith is sometimes weak. Sometimes I struggle with trusting that there is a bigger picture that I may not see at the time. Sometimes I can be negative; I can let what has happened in the past scare me into thinking that this can never work and we will never succeed. Just today, even after being on such a high after yesterday's ultrasound, I found myself letting doubt creep in. I felt totally overwhelmed because of the amount of time that is ahead of us. I just wanted to hit the fast forward button! The idea of myself walking around with a big, pregnant belly and then holding a living baby in our arms seems like it is so far out of our reach and a million years away. But I really don't think that's a faith problem. I think it's a human problem.

We have memories. We do have a past. And while I think it isn't healthy to let what happened in the past control our emotions, we are still human. I wish I did have a memory that was as deep as the ocean. But I don't. I can't help but remember the babies I've lost, and frankly, while I wish it never happened in the first place, I really don't want to forget them. The experiences I've had have changed me and changed my perspective about so many things. That is something I wouldn't want to trade at this point. We've come so far, and sometimes I think you can only recognize how far you've gone by looking back at where you've been.

It's great to have faith that this pregnancy will work out and it's great to think positive thoughts. But ultimately, I'm not in control of my child's life or death. I'm leaving that in the Lord's capable hands, and I will pray every day for this child to make it. That's what I wish I would have said to the person on the phone. Trying to remain positive in the face of where we've been is a challenge, but I personally think we are doing okay with what we have and where we are.

Okay. I think I'm done with the soapbox for now! Thanks for letting me vent. :)

*************

Finally, to end on a much sweeter note, I want to tell you something very cute that my darling nephews said. When their mom, my sister, showed them our ultrasound picture from yesterday (which I had e-mailed to her upon strict orders), they both agreed that it was definitely a girl because they've both "always wanted a baby sister."
How precious are they? First of all, what 7- and 9-year-old boys want a sister?! And how adorable is it that they would consider our child more like a sibling than a cousin? It truly gave me the warm fuzzies to hear that, and you know, that even makes up for the dumb comments that I know we'll continue to hear every now and then. Man, I love those kids!

Why I Don't Like Statistics

When I was in high school I served as our basketball teams' statistician. I absolutely loved it. When I wasn't keeping the official green book, I used a legal-sized piece of paper, turned sideways on a clipboard, with a homemade chart for marking every detail of the basketball game. There were usually three of us on the bench, eyes glued to the court, trying to catch every single steal, assist, shot attempt, rebound, and turnover. Back then I didn't think much about statistics, at least where sports were concerned. It was pretty cut-and-dry. At the end of the school year we would figure up the percentages for the athletic awards ceremony based upon all of those stat sheets throughout the year. Awards were given to the player with the best field goal percentage, the best free throw percentage, the most steals, and so on. It was a simple thing, really. The numbers pretty much told the story.

When it comes to real life, I don't really like statistics. They never do seem to tell the whole story. What matters, of course, is what side of them you happen to be on.

I've never cared for the statistic that says that people who come from divorced parents are twice as likely to get divorced. I'm not saying there's absolutely no data out there to support the claim, and it's true that statistics are only meant to be a sampling. There's no way they could apply to and be true for everyone. Still, I don't like the assumption that the odds are against me simply because my parents' marriage didn't work. I like knowing there is room for me to break that cycle. I realize that, like the first line of one of my favorite Caedmon's Call songs says, "I come from a long line of leavers." There is a lot of divorce in my family, but I don't for a second believe that it means our marriage is doomed. I believe we can change that trend. With that considered, I believe that sometimes it's a good thing to be on the "wrong side" of a statistic.

As I'm sure you can imagine, I'm also not a fan of infertility-related statistics. I know that sometimes they are used to try to make you feel better. Even at our last appointment, our doctor went through the run-down of miscarriage percentages. Right now I have about a 20% chance of miscarrying (considering the stage of this pregnancy only). If we see a heartbeat, that number will go down, and it will continue to decrease as we see more and more development, such as arm and leg buds, etc. And that's all wonderful to hear, except that I've been on the wrong side of those statistics, too.

It's hard for me to take comfort in those numbers. I've seen those wonderful baby heartbeats before. We even saw our baby's arm and leg buds on an ultrasound screen for our 4th pregnancy! But it doesn't mean much when you find out that you're still in the small percentage of people who will lose their baby. Some sources say that after 4 pregnancies and no live births, my chances of having this baby are between 0 and 5%. I haven't looked up one for 6 pregnancies and no live births because I just don't want to know. I think I'm much better off not knowing what the numbers say and hoping that I can beat the odds. This is definitely another trend I'm determined to break.

Fortunately I've reached a point where I'm simply annoyed by statistics. I don't put my trust in them; I put my trust in the Creator of heaven and earth, and the One who made me and loved me first. I know that nothing is impossible with God. (Interesting side note: Did you know that when that verse is used in Luke 1:37, the topic of conversation is that Elizabeth, who was barren, is having a child? I love that!)

To bring this post full-circle (and if you'll pardon me for the basketball analogy), something else I learned as a statistician is that the person who gets awarded is usually the person who took the most shots. Sure, the important part is making them. But you can't expect to make the shot if you aren't first brave enough to attempt it. I'm hoping that this time for me will be a lot like the time the guy in my class who played center, the biggest guy on the team, took that wild, one-in-a-million shot from behind the three-point line... and he made it.

The odds were totally against that shot, but boy, was it worth it -- to him and to everyone who was cheering him on!

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.

Facebook: A Love/Hate Relationship

Anyone who knows me in real life will wonder about the title of this post. That's because they know that I love Facebook! For a couple of years now I've been Facebook's biggest fan. I've tried to recruit my friends and family (yes, I'm one of "those people") because I think it's a great tool for keeping in touch with people. Don't worry, I haven't given up on all other conventional forms of keeping in touch. I still call people. I still write letters and send birthday cards. I occasionally even meet people for lunch! (That's saying a lot for the hermit side of me.)

Let me tell you why I love Facebook. I absolutely love that it has gotten me back in touch with dozens and dozens of college friends, many that I thought I may never find again. It's pretty effortless, it's free, and it's easy to get caught up on the past decade or so. Even with friends that I have kept in regular touch with, it's so simple to share photos and day-to-day stuff on Facebook. Really, there's a lot to love about it.

You may think I'm crazy when I tell you that I actually have two Facebook accounts. I have my regular one with all of my friends, family, classmates, and recently even my adviser from college! Several months ago I created a new account to use specifically for connecting with IF friends that I've "met" through this blog. I still don't share all of my personal information there, but it's a place slightly more private than Blogger for sharing photos and just connecting more personally with some of my blog friends. Really, it has been great. I'd love it if even more of you would find me there! (If you want to create a new account just for that like I did, or connect using your regular account you can find my profile at this link. I can't promise that anything there is super exciting, but if you're experiencing infertility and/or miscarriage and would like to have a group of friends to connect with on Facebook, come find me! One word of warning: if you already have an account and want to make a new separate one, be sure and use a different email address or you'll erase your other account, ok?!)

Alright, so here's what I don't like about Facebook. I see things there sometimes that make it hard for me to just enjoy the perks. Ultimately I guess they are just minor annoyances, but they sure do seem to bother me.

Stuff like this:


And this:


And this:


Why, people? I know these are just supposed to be cute or funny or whatever. But really they're pretty insensitive when you think about it. I know that perhaps I'm just a little sensitive to stuff like this, but these have been displayed on the profiles of my friends! I know that 90% of them are aware of my plight.

There's so much I could say about each one, but I think it's obvious why I think they're pretty hurtful. First of all, I don't know what my "super power" is but evidently it's NOT "growing people." And I don't know how "crafty" anyone thinks I am, but so far I'm not quite crafty enough to "make people." Oh, and I have no idea what I've been doing all these years that I thought I was working full time! No, I don't clock in anymore at a job, but somehow the house is getting cleaned and our clothes are washed.

I know these aren't meant to be taken literally. As a very dear friend said to me recently, though, I wish people would realize that they're not talking to a world full of fertile people only. There's a whole other topic here that could be explored about insensitive status updates on Facebook, but I'm definitely not going to tackle that one right now. I guess today my status message might read: "Stacey is really annoyed by ridiculous pieces of flair."

Announcements (Part One)

I've been having a lot of thoughts lately about the topic of pregnancy announcements. I feel like I say this a lot on my blog, but please understand that I don't write anything here to try to take a stab at some particular person who might be reading. I don't write to make anyone feel guilty about how they might have handled a certain situation. I write here to share my feelings about all aspects of living with infertility and miscarriage. When I write about a topic like this one today, I hope to open up some dialogue between people on different sides of the issue. So, with that disclaimer out of the way, here goes.

The fact is that for most people in my situation, hearing pregnancy announcements is hard. As much as I don't want that to be true, it is. I wish I could explain just how much I wish it didn't have to be an issue at all. I remember way back when it wasn't, and I long for that day to come again. How the news is delivered actually does make a difference, I believe. Trust me when I tell you that in 8 years I have heard lots of pregnancy announcements. For organization's sake, I'll list out a few scenarios and comment on each individually.

1. The Surprise
This is the pregnancy announcement that comes totally out of the blue and is usually delivered in a group setting, at a party, at a restaurant, at a family reunion or holiday gathering, or wherever. I'm not saying there is anything wrong with gathering up your family and friends for your special announcement, but certainly if there's someone in the crowd that you know has had difficulty with infertility or miscarriage, there is probably a better way to let them in on it. I can't speak for everyone but I can tell you that being in my shoes and being blindsided with pregnancy info in a public place is hard. Keep in mind, I'm not upset that the couple is having a baby! I'm upset because I know that my feelings will be on display in this room full of people who know what I'm going through and are looking for my reaction. I know it's not about me, but suddenly I feel put on the spot and I have to fight with myself to keep it together.

2. The Guessing Game
Oh, how I hate this one. I know that finding out that you're pregnant is exciting. I know that you just got married two months ago and you "weren't even trying," and oops, this is totally an accident and you have no idea how it happened. I know that you just peed on a stick and saw two lines and haven't been to the doctor yet but you just can't wait to tell everybody. (Yes, I'm being snarky, but I really do understand that it's their right to tell people whenever and however they want.) But seriously, if you want me to know that you're pregnant, please don't make me guess what the great news is. Don't play around and send me an e-mail that says you're really excited about something that will be happening on a date that is exactly 9 months from today. I'm not dumb enough to have absolutely no idea what that news could be. The bottom line here is that I'd rather just hear the news, plain and simple, no guessing games. I'm happy for you, but this game is not my idea of fun.

3. The Mass E-mail/text message
I actually don't mind being told about a friend's pregnancy by e-mail or even text message. I'll tell you why: because I don't have to worry about my reaction. I don't have to be concerned about whether my voice sounds shaky or sincere. I hope that my friends know me well enough to know that I do rejoice in their good fortune. Even if I feel sad for me, I can feel happy for them. Particularly for friends who have had problems with pregnancy or conception, I've most likely been praying that it will happen for them! But it's hard when, like I mentioned earlier, I feel put on the spot or feel like I have to make my enthusiasm over the news match their own. When the news comes by message, I can deal with it however I need to at that moment, and I can reply when I'm ready with my congratulations.
There is one downside to this mass text messaging business. Hearing the important news that you're pregnant or that the baby was just born or things like that by text message is totally fine with me. I don't, however, need a mass text message sent to my phone every single time you have an ultrasound or doctor's appointment, felt the baby move, or had false labor pains. There really is such a thing as too much information! That's not to say that I don't want to be involved in a family member or close friend's life, but that kind of info is hard to hear constantly when you've been through painful experiences with pregnancy.

4. The "This Isn't a Big Deal"
Yes, it's a bit hard to get through a pregnancy announcement where the person is absolutely overjoyed and goes on and on about how awesome their life is. But I kinda get that. I understand in a way. I've been pregnant before, and yes, I even remember what it was like when I didn't have the dark cloud of recurrent miscarriage following me around. I know full well that finding out you're expecting a baby is a joyful time. But sometimes I get reactions that go the other way and I never know what to do with that. To tell you the truth, it's weird to get a ho-hum-I-guess-I'm-pregnant-it's-no-big-deal announcement. I'll have people casually ask me, "Oh, did you hear we might be pregnant?" They just shrug it off like it's not anything to get excited over. I get the feeling that this is perhaps to cushion the blow or protect my feelings. As much as I think those people are well-intentioned, I would rather if they would just be authentic with me. It's ok that you're excited. You don't have to pretend that you aren't!

5. The "Wait, I Didn't Tell You?"
As hard as the pregnancy announcement might be to someone who has been waiting for years and years for their own baby, the non-announcement can be just as painful. There have been many times where my husband and I are the last people on the planet to hear the news from a friend. If it's someone we don't see often, sometimes we don't ever hear about the pregnancy until the child is born! Of course, I know that people lose touch, but I can't help but get the feeling that the friend didn't know what to say, so they chose to say nothing. To be honest, leaving us in the dark for that long makes us feel like our friendship is not important, or that you think we don't care when in fact we do. I'll never forget going to church one day when all of my girlfriends were talking about the cute baby announcement they'd gotten in the mail from one of our friends who had moved away. I hadn't gotten one. I blamed it on the mail being slow, but it never came.

Really, the bottom line is that everyone is certainly allowed to announce their pregnancy in any way they choose. If, however, you have a friend in my situation, she will be grateful if you consider her feelings when sharing your news the next time around. Maybe you feel like the list above leaves you with no options! Now I'd love to share some ways that I feel people have done it very well.

1. Be honest & real.
These are my two favorite characteristics in people! I love it when my friends are straightforward. They have some news to tell me, so they call me up or send me a message and they deliver the news in a direct and heartfelt way. They know that I love them and care about them, and that I'm happy about their news and wish them the best. They don't feel the need to apologize about their pregnancy, and they don't push me to share my deepest feelings about my situation in that moment.

2. Be sensitive.
I'm not saying you have to get emotional or feel sad for me when you have happy news. Friendship is about give and take. It's about being there for every step along the way, for all the ups and downs that will come in life. I remember when a friend called to tell me she was having her second baby while my first loss was still very fresh. She cried with me and said that she wished we could have shared the experience together. I knew that in her joy she was still sad for me, and she knew that in my sorrow I was still happy for her. That's what friendship is. No, you don't have to cry if that's not what you're feeling. Being authentic and sincere, though, is definitely the way to go. The overall attitude of the person sharing the news can make or break the whole experience, I think.

3. Be forthcoming.
Recently I got an e-mail from a friend asking if we could get together for lunch so she could share some big news with me in person. Of course you know what was going through my head. A little while later she sent me another message telling me that it was work-related so I wouldn't be wondering what it was. I loved that. How refreshing! It felt good to let my guard down and enjoy lunch with my girlfriend without wondering what was about to happen or how I might react. I didn't feel like I was being set up for any ambush either. Had she been announcing a pregnancy, though, I have to say that I would have wanted to hear about it in a straightforward way right then in the e-mail. Making an appointment to talk about it one-on-one would make me pretty uncomfortable right now and can be very overwhelming.

One of the greatest things is when those rare friendships come along that will have the same comfortable, easy feeling no matter what life throws at us. I treasure my dear friends who have managed to not allow pregnancy or motherhood or anything else to change what we have. They teach me things about parenting year after year - the joys as well as the struggles. It's good to have friends who are great parents to their children, and I value that. Unfortunately there are some friendships that don't hold up through extended times of grief for whatever reason, and I find that very sad.

Whew, even after such a long post I feel like there is more to be said on this topic. I also want to talk about announcements within the infertility community as well, but that's for another post and another day (very soon). The last thing in the world that I want here is to come across as whiny and selfish. I think being honest about these feelings is good, and I encourage you to let me know whether you agree or disagree with any of these points. I don't claim to speak for any one group of people - I know that every single person has their own feelings and opinions about this, so please share!

Misfit

Do you have moments when you feel like you just don't fit in anywhere? I certainly do, and it seems to get worse the longer I live with infertility. I used to really enjoy social functions of all kinds. Of course I still do enjoy them occasionally, but most times the anticipation is almost more than I can handle. I'm afraid to put myself out there for fear that it will end up being awkward. I feel so much safer at home and usually I'd rather just stay in. It's true that a lot of times I talk myself into going and when it's all over I'm truly glad I went. But the fact is that those times have become few and far between.

The problem is that there is no real place where I feel I belong, socially I mean. I'm too old to be with the college kids - next year will be 10 years since I graduated from college. Although I identify with singles in many ways and value my single friends, I'm sure they don't always want to hang out with this old married couple. The young marrieds with small children have quite a bit on their plates, not to mention those closer to my age who have school-age kids! It seems like I have less and less in common with my peers with each passing year. Of course I have dear friends from all of these walks of life and of all different ages. Some of my dearest friends are closer to my parents' age and have kids who are grown. I think that having many different kinds of friends is great, but still I feel more and more isolated lately - like I'm stuck in a place where I don't belong and can't move forward.

The other day in a moment of frustration I told my husband that I felt like I should be shipped off someplace where broken things go. Immediately I thought of the Island of Misfit Toys from the classic Rudolph cartoon. The funny thing is that I can't tell you the last time I watched that movie. It's been at least a decade but I remembered it pretty clearly: the jack-in-the-box named Charlie, the spotted elephant, and the little doll. Remember all those toys that were rejects? I watched a video clip from the movie on youtube to remind myself of some of the others who lived on the island. I'd forgotten about the train who had square wheels. I hadn't remembered the bird who could swim but couldn't fly or the boat who couldn't stay afloat.

Maybe it sounds silly but I can relate to those misfit toys. I desperately want to be something I am not. I want my body to work the way it should. I am a mother who has no children. I feel like I don't quite fit.

This isn't a pity party. You have to understand something about me. One of my biggest pet peeves in life is when something doesn't work right. I get so frustrated when I can't get something to serve its intended purpose. You can imagine how difficult it is for me to live with a body that doesn't work the way I think it should! It is incredibly annoying to me (not to mention heartbreaking) that I have such a hard time with pregnancy and there is nothing easy I can do to fix that. No, nobody ever promised me that things would be easy to fix or that problems would be easy to solve. I haven't had a life like that anyway, so I would've quickly learned that I'd been misled. Still it feels like it just shouldn't be this hard.

I never want anything I write here to be interpreted as hopeless. Believe it or not, I can see a few positive things about those misfit toys! They were certainly unique, and although they didn't feel like they fit in, they fit in perfectly with each other. There's something to be said for standing apart from the crowd, and it most definitely helps knowing you're not alone. It doesn't always feel good being different, but there may just be someone out there who needs just what you have to offer.

Surprisingly, I found someone who happens to like spotted elephants and doesn't mind birds that swim instead of fly. You know, maybe there are no "misfits" after all.

Inquiring Minds Want to Know

It's expected that around the holidays you'll see lots of family and friends, probably even those you don't often see during the year. This is one thing I enjoy most about Christmas but certainly it becomes a source of stress for me also. You see, I'm always anticipating awkward situations and the inevitable questions that will be asked about my situation. This post has been inspired by three things: my past experiences on the subject, a recent conversation with a single girlfriend, and this post from Abby at LIFE As I Know It. Abby's brief post today about a comment she's tired of hearing got my wheels turning about those awkward moments we have with family, friends, and complete strangers. I have already written at length about what not to say to someone dealing with infertility, so I'll try to keep this one brief.

Here are a few things I'm hoping not to hear this Christmas:

1. "So, how is all of that going?"
(It's a good thing I'm so savvy at picking up on subtle cues and can figure out that by "all of that" they mean infertility.) Here's where it gets interesting, because to me it depends on who is asking the question. If it is someone I'm very close to, who has been following along with all the ins and outs of this journey and knows what it has been like for us all these years, I'm much more inclined to give an honest update on where we are. If, however, the question comes from a friend I haven't seen or heard from since last Christmas (or five Christmases ago), I'm not usually ready to get into it. Believe me when I tell you that I know how easy it is to lose touch with people during the year. But if you were really concerned, you'd probably call or write when I came to mind rather than waiting to run into me in the grocery store and deciding that's the perfect time to talk about my personal battle with miscarriage. Right there in the produce aisle. I really do appreciate concern in any form, but sometimes it feels more like gathering information to store away in a mental file than genuine compassion.

2. "Have you tried _______?"
Unless the missing words are "Starbucks' new salted caramel hot chocolate" (to which I would reply "Yes, and it's fantastic!") then I'm really not interested in talking about a new treatment plan right at that moment. I'm open to suggestions or information about new studies in the world of infertility/recurrent miscarriage, but right now it's Christmas and let's just talk about regular things, please! Hearing medical advice from someone who may have gone through a vaguely similar situation years ago and now has had several kids isn't my idea of a fun Christmas party. I mean it when I say that I'm really glad things worked out and that they found the right thing that worked for them, but that doesn't mean it will be the right answer for me. Sometimes suggestions from friends who have overcome infertility or from friends who have never experienced it at all make me feel like they think my doctors are just twiddling their thumbs. I can assure you that we are seeking out the best medical care we can find, and even though I know that not much has changed for us in the past several years, we feel like we are doing the best we can.

3. "Are you trying right now?"
Well, we're not trying right at this moment... obviously. Seriously, I can't think of many situations where this question would be appropriate. It is awkward to discuss the personal details of my cycle and sex life with 99% of people. Maybe that's just me! And until you see us walking around with little ones in tow, assume we are "trying."

4. "Your blessing will come soon."
If you read this blog regularly, then you already know my thoughts about "blessings." I don't have any children but I already do have blessings! Unless you've had a direct word from the Lord about my future children (which I'm not doubting can happen) it may not be a good idea to offer empty promises to someone in my situation. Instead of making me feel better, that definitely makes me feel worse.

Now let me reassure you that if you are a bloggy friend of mine and you're reading these words, the chances are pretty slim that any of this applies to you! When you are in a community of people who are all struggling with infertility in some form, there are many times when talking specifics and suggesting treatment plans can be appropriate.

I'm happy to say that with the exception of #4, none of the above have happened to me in quite a while. This post is not an excuse to send out a secret message to any of my friends who might be reading it. It's just one of those days when I needed to vent, so thanks for listening.

Now, who wants a hot chocolate? I do.

Not So Young But Pretty Darn Restless

My husband and I are having some problems in the bedroom. I can't help but grin when I type that because I know my mother-in-law reads this blog. (Don't worry Mom, you can keep on reading!) Sleeping, I mean... problems sleeping. When it comes to catching our Zs, we have some issues to overcome.

First you should know that our bodies are on two completely different schedules. I'm a night owl and I always have been. It takes me a very long time to wind down at night. I usually get in bed around 10, then I watch late night TV or read a book until I get sleepy. This takes a few hours. I usually turn my lamp off sometime between midnight and one a.m. (and even later if the book I'm reading is especially good). Fortunately my nightly routine doesn't bother my hubby one bit. As I've gotten older it seems like I've become more and more particular about my surroundings when I sleep. I never used to be this way. When I was growing up I shared a double bed with my big sister and no joke, if we had a friend over we'd fit all 3. I, being the runt, always got the middle. We'd also leave the radio on when we went to bed. Somehow I always managed to sleep. Now, however, I have to have it very quiet. The temperature must be cool but not too cold. It's almost like the stars and planets must be aligned for me to be able to get to sleep.

As for Chuck, he can fall asleep in mere seconds. It's pretty much a given that he won't stay awake during an entire movie if we start it any later than 7 p.m. I've seen him fall fast asleep in the middle of a conversation or waiting for his turn in a board game. If he settles down on the couch for longer than a few minutes, he is very likely to doze off. Even in the midst of great stress when the last thing in the world I could do is sleep, he manages to sleep soundly.

Now that you have all of that history, I'll get right to the problems. The first one is that my husband has Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS). Yes, it's a real thing! It doesn't really affect his day-to-day life very much, but his legs do begin to ache and twitch in the evenings before bed. I knew about this early on in our marriage but it didn't cause much of a problem for either of us at night. Maybe I didn't notice it so much during those first few years because I was too tired from school and work to notice. That all changed about 7 years ago after we moved to Texas. I began to notice that after Chuck went to sleep, his legs would jump rather violently during the night. It would go on for hours. It's almost funny to think about it now, if I didn't remember how miserable it was for me! Imagine you have lots of trouble sleeping to begin with. Then imagine you finally get to that place where you're teetering on the edge of dreamworld only to be suddenly jerked awake! Repeat this process about a dozen times. Honestly some nights it was so bad I actually would start to feel a bit seasick from all of the movement.

I actually counted in my head one night when it was especially bad because I was curious to know how frequent it was. I figured out his legs would jump about every 30 seconds. Pretty soon after that night I asked our family doctor about it during a visit. She said RLS was a real thing and that usually it doesn't bother the person affected nearly as much as their spouse (Amen to that!). Chuck set up a visit and she prescribed some medication for it. It took a practice round of meds that didn't do the trick before we found the right one. Now it is so much better! He takes the pill about 30 minutes before bed and most nights it works like a charm.

That's one problem (mostly) solved. But there's more.

Over the past few years Chuck has begun snoring. I don't remember exactly when it started but it's gotten increasingly worse over the past year. It doesn't go on all night and it doesn't rattle the windows, but it's definitely enough to be a problem. This morning he was sawing some serious logs around 5:30 and I woke up just wide awake and unable to go back to sleep. He gets up for work around 6, so I stayed in bed until about 6:30 while he got ready and then I just started my day early. I had a Bible study to go to at 9 and normally wouldn't have gotten up until about 8, so 5:30 was a pretty early start for me! I am by no means a morning person, but it was nice that Chuck and I had breakfast together. I even got some chores knocked out early, as I found myself cleaning out the refrigerator at 7 a.m.!

But that's looking on the bright side. It truly is hard that I'm such a light sleeper and sometimes insomniac, and my husband is becoming a difficult bedfellow. I really don't want to end up in separate rooms, so I'm on the lookout for snoring remedies. Oh, and I've tried earplugs and they become just another thing that keeps me awake and annoyed. I hope you have some ideas, or I may have to remain part of the not so young but pretty darn restless club.

Confusion

I really, really don't want to step on the toes of my dear friends who are parents. At the same time, I want to stick to the promise I've made to myself to blog what I'm feeling. Obviously I ultimately see things from my own perspective, so I welcome any comments that would show me another point of view.

I'm confused about a few things. Every now and again I get some comments from my mommy friends about how they're jealous that I get to travel. In fact, the most recent one was more like, "Let's not talk about how you went to New York last week." I don't know what to do with that. Here's what I find confusing. My friends know that as much as I love to travel, my heart's desire is motherhood. I have a lot of friends who talk about their kids 99% of the time, yet I never say to them, "Let's not talk about how you get to be a mommy." That would be taboo, right?

Yes, one reason I'm able to travel so much is because I don't yet have children. Chuck and I have made some wonderful memories over the past few years, and we've been amazed at the opportunities we've had to see parts of the country we never thought we'd see. We are so grateful for those times. Traveling doesn't erase the pain of recurrent miscarriage. It does, however, help us make happy memories in the midst of our grief.

This all boils down to a larger issue that bothers me. Let me preface this by saying that I've never been a mom before. I can try to imagine the struggles, the exhaustion, and the constant demands of having children, but really I don't know how that feels. That being said, it bothers me how many people out there talk about their children as if they are a tremendous burden and inconvenience. The notion that a person could sure do a lot of traveling and other fun stuff if they weren't tied down by some kids drives me batty. For one, most (ok, all) of the people I know with children weren't forced to have them. Second, who says that traveling and having kids are mutually exclusive? I'm sure traveling with kids is expensive and somewhat difficult, but lots of people do it.

I guess I'm tired of being looked at by some as the "lucky" girl who gets to have lots of time to herself, sleep in, and go on cool trips... all because she doesn't have kids. I love all of that stuff, but you should know that I use all of it to fill the void in my life that recurrent miscarriage has left.

I'd give it all up for the chance to have children. No regrets.

Me: The Scaredy-Cat (Six Things)

I was tagged by Andrea for the six things meme. Thanks! This is my first time to be tagged. Btw, if you want to be entertained by Andrea’s Last-Bite Rules click here.

Here are the rules:
1) Link to the person that tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog.
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6) Let the fun begin!

Now the task of coming up with six things you don’t know about me that are random and yet remotely entertaining. This may be harder than I thought.

1. I hate to drive. I know some people who get in the car and just drive to relieve stress. Driving is the last thing in the world I’d do to relieve stress (besides maybe a root canal). I don’t mind driving around town to run errands and things like that. But really if I had a choice I would be chauffeured around everywhere. I’m not a bad driver but I just don’t enjoy it. I think it’s mainly because I grew up in the country and didn’t even get my license until I was 18. I’ve lived near the 4th largest city in the U.S. for 7 years now and have managed to only drive there once. To tell you the truth, once was more than enough!

2. The only real recurring dream I ever have is the one where I’m enrolled in a college class and it’s time for finals and I’m completely unprepared. Either I haven’t been to any of the classes or I haven’t studied for the test. I realize this isn’t the scariest thing in the whole world but to me it’s a nightmare. I wake up in a panic until I realize it’s not real then I am so happy I’m not a student anymore!

3. Speaking of scary things, the most terrifying movie I have ever seen is The Shining. It probably has something to do with the fact that I was way too young to have been watching it but thinking about that movie still gives me the heebie jeebies. It might be the kind of thing where if I watched it again as a grown-up it would seem ridiculous, but I'm just not willing to risk it. Every time I walk down a long hallway in a hotel I picture those creepy little girls or that huge wave of blood coming around the corner. Now I must change the subject or I absolutely will not sleep tonight…

4. I like to have my ears covered when I sleep. I have this phobia about something crawling in there at night, so I sleep on one side and cover the other side with the blanket. I can’t sleep with my whole head covered, so I make a little cocoon for myself that allows my face to stick out. It’s weird, I know. I’ve been doing this ever since I went on this horrible camping trip with my Dad’s family one summer when I was about 12. The mosquitoes were so bad and they buzzed in our ears all night long. We had to sleep completely covered even though it was stifling. Pair that with my bugs-in-ears phobia and it’s the perfect recipe for me being traumatized forever.

5. I’m totally obsessed with dental hygiene. I am very serious about brushing twice a day and flossing once a day. There is no way I’d be able to sleep without having done my nightly routine (wash face, floss teeth, brush teeth). I have spent years trying to convince my family and friends to floss regularly. In fact, I even did a speech about it in college! No joke. Think about it tonight before you hit the sack. As my mom would say, you don’t want to go to bed with a “yuck-mouth.”

6. I love to collect postcards. I have postcards from almost every U.S. state and from about 35 different countries. Sometimes people pick them up on a trip and hand them to me, which is also nice, but I personally prefer that they be written on and mailed with the postmark of the destination. I keep them filed away (alphabetically, of course) in three albums and I love to flip through them. It’s fun to see all the different places and even more fun to read what my friends and family have written on their trips over the years. A few years ago I started mailing them to myself when we travel. I write what we did that day and send it home so I can get the postmark.

Ok, I tried to end on a high note since nearly everything else was about me being afraid. I don’t want you to think I’m only a big scaredy-cat (although it's mostly true).

I’m tagging Beth, Sharon, and Sunny. I also tag Nity and Andrea (not the same Andrea as before) if you gals haven’t done one of these before. If you have I hope you’ll do it again or send me a link to your old one.

Happy weekend everybody!

Getting a Few Things Off My Chest

During the last several years of dealing with infertility I guess you could say I've developed a few pet peeves. I'm sure these things came out of people's mouths before I tried to have children but had absolutely no effect on me back then. I thought about putting these in a post called "What Not to Say - Part 2" but I realized that they are more like little things that get under my skin personally. They're not necessarily hurtful things to say. I simply find them utterly silly.

First up is when people brag about conception. Honestly I don't have anyone particular in mind as I write this, probably because it has happened so many times! I don't know what would possess anyone to do this, but often when I tell people about my problem they want to say something like, "Well, we never had trouble having our kids," or "Wow, my wife got pregnant the very first time we tried."

I hope I never see a playback of the face I must make when I hear this. I probably look about as confused as if they had just grown a second head that started speaking to me. I want to ask if they've discovered some special skill that I've never heard of for making babies. The last time I checked, it's still the same method that has always been around! Usually what it tells me is that they haven't quite listened to what I've just said. You see, I almost always explain the specifics of our situation if I'm in a conversation with someone on the topic. I make it clear that my issue is with recurrent miscarriage. That means that we, too, do not have trouble conceiving. Either way, I don't see how it matters. I certainly don't think it qualifies for bragging rights. It's great that not everyone has trouble having babies. But our bodies were designed to procreate. No special talent is required. Animals figure it out with no instructions from us!

Admittedly, this is probably not my most edifying post. I usually try not to let my claws come out, but I really just don't get it. It's so strange to me. It's a little like hearing, "Oh, you have trouble with that? Well, it's a piece of cake for us. But good luck with that."

Ok, one more to go! This one isn't as bad, but it still leaves me standing there with a big question mark over my head. Sometimes I'll have a friend who is expecting ask me to pray that they get the gender they're hoping for. I never know how to react. I usually just smile and nod. But a part of me is thinking "I don't think I can do that." Honestly, it's not that I don't want that friend to be happy and have everything they desire. I just really struggle with this one. Maybe it's because I feel they should be happy with the boy or girl that God chooses to give them in His infinite wisdom. That being said, I do, of course, think it's normal for expectant parents to lean toward wanting a particular gender. Nevermind that their baby already either has XX chromosomes or XY, and I'm pretty sure that my prayer won't change their baby from a boy to a girl. I'm content that God already made that choice for them when He designed that baby.

The other part of this is that I think it's insensitive for them to ask a person who would love to be carrying a boy or a girl to help them out with their Wish List for God. I would never presume to tell someone how they should pray but I'm just not comfortable with this.

I think that's the end of my soap box for today. Neither of these things happened in the past week, by the way. They've just been on my mind. It's totally ok if you disagree (but expect to be blogged about later.)

Just kidding. (Or am I?)

What Not to Say

The list that follows is not intended to be a crazy rant (although it will feel kinda good to get some of it off my chest!), nor is it meant to point a finger at anyone in particular or make them feel awful. In our 7-year-and-counting struggle with infertility my husband and I have heard a lot of things, mostly from well-intentioned people who we know care about us and would never mean to be hurtful. That being said, there are just some things that are hard to hear or just plain not smart to say when someone is hurting. These examples are specific to our situation but perhaps you can relate if you have had some other painful experience.

1. “Think Positive!”
We have heard this one many times. Although I believe that positive thinking is certainly a good thing, especially when the other options are fear and worry, what I don’t like about this advice is that it suggests that there is something simple I can do, just a change in thinking, that will solve the problem. If I just think positive thoughts I’ll surely be able to overcome this problem and everything will be fine. I wish it could be so easy! The fact is that it becomes increasingly hard to be positive when you are stuck in a situation where the thing you desire seems within your grasp and then slips away. Repeatedly. I really do have a hard time in this area of remaining positive and it’s something I constantly work on. But it’s just not that easy piece of the puzzle that I’ve been overlooking for years.

2. “Relax.”
Very much like the positive thinking advice, telling someone to “just relax and everything should work out” is actually even worse. It suggests that there is something I am actively DOING to hinder myself from having a successful pregnancy. I am just too worked up and worried over all of this and if I just relax and get my mind off of it for a while it will happen. I do know that stress and worry are not the best environments for pregnancy, but again I don’t think it’s an easy answer. Obviously there are other things at work here medically that I can’t resolve by having a day at the spa.

3. “Have You Considered Adoption?”
Absolutely! I think most people in this situation for this long have had adoption cross their minds. I think adoption is a fantastic option and have so much respect for folks who choose it. Maybe it is in our future, too. At this point I just can’t say for sure, and I think that’s part of what makes this a hard question to hear over and over. I think it such a huge decision with many steps and emotions involved. I have known people who have never been through infertility at all yet have just “always known” that they would adopt someday. I think these are some of the most special people on the planet! For others (like me), the dream was always just to “be a mom.” I never really broke it down and thought about how I would become a mom. I suppose I always just thought I’d get married and decide to have children and nine months later we’d have a baby. It hasn’t worked out like that at all and I constantly have thoughts about becoming a mom through adoption. I haven’t given up just yet on having biological children (and I know I don’t have to give that up in order to adopt) but my husband and I think adoption is wonderful and we are keeping that option open. Don’t get me wrong here – I don’t think this is a “horrible” thing to ask someone! It does, however, get a little awkward when we are asked this by people we barely know since we think it is quite a personal decision.

4. The Adoption That Leads To Pregnancy
If you are anything like me and have shared in these experiences, I’ll bet you a shiny nickel that you’ve heard a story like this about 7,000 times: “I have a friend who had tried to get pregnant for years. When they finally stopped trying and adopted a child, just a few days later she found out she was pregnant!” As often as I’ve heard this it must be happening pretty frequently. I don’t doubt at all that these are true stories but I don’t really know how they should make me feel better. I’ve even had folks suggest that we begin the adoption process and expect a pregnancy, as sort-of a way to trick fate. Strange, I know. The idea, I think, is that we would get our minds off of trying to have a baby and that’s when it would happen. Kind-of like thinking of a big white horse to make you forget about having the hiccups (my great-grandma’s trick and yes, it works… sometimes).

5. “I Know How You Feel”
The reason I tend to shy away from giving this advice to people who are hurting is because it really is rarely true. I may think I know how they feel but do I really? Can we ever really know how another person is feeling? Maybe sometimes. But I do think it is rare for all of the circumstances to be so similar in our two cases for the statement to hold any water. Then again, I guess I’m writing this to reach out to others who may have experienced these things. It’s like I’m saying, “Hey, read my blog. I’ve been there. I know how you feel.” Ok, so this list isn’t perfect! But the more specific “I Know How You Feel” moment that is hard for me to hear right now is coming up next.

6. The Person with 17 Kids Who Had a Miscarriage between Numbers 11 and 12
The risk of me sounding very coldhearted is very great right here, so I want to start by saying that I know the pain of miscarriage is something that has been felt by many women. There is emotional pain as well as physical pain and such an overwhelming sense of loss (which of course is shared by the men involved). That feeling is certainly relatable by all women who have experienced it, I would guess. Where I often have a problem is when I encounter someone who has a house-full of kids and tells me that they know how I am feeling because they have had a miscarriage before. As I mentioned in the last point, it’s so hard to say that and genuinely know. How could she know how terrifying it is to wonder if you will ever, ever be able to have children? The pain of her loss is every bit as real as the pain of my loss(es) and there certainly may be a time and place to discuss that shared experience. In fact, it has helped me at times to talk to people who have actually experienced miscarriage and I have been able to share some of my experiences as well. But my point is that just as it might be hard to take financial advice from someone who is very wealthy and has never had to do without while you barely have a penny to your name, it’s hard to look at someone who has children and hear, “Hey, it’s ok. I had a miscarriage once too. You’ll get through it,” when you’re right in the middle of that trial and have no idea what your future holds.

7. “Hang In There”
No, “Hang in there” isn’t an inherently bad thing to say, I’ll admit, but one time I was told the following story: “I met a lady today who’d had 10 miscarriages before she ever had her first child. So, hang in there!” I think this came when I was recovering from my fifth miscarriage. I remember thinking, “Dear Lord, please don’t let that be me! I can’t go through this five more times.” In my friend’s defense, she did call me back a few minutes later to apologize because she realized that it was the wrong thing to say. That meant a lot to me. I think it’s safe to assume that a person who is suffering wants out NOW! It’s excruciating to think of enduring that painful circumstance a minute longer before finally having some relief.

8. “Hello, my name is _________.”
Every time I first meet someone I know what’s coming. They are going to ask me how many children I have. Now, I’m not crazy enough to blame a person I don’t know for not knowing my situation! However, I have learned that I don’t need to be a question box when I meet someone. There are plenty of ways to let a conversation flow and get to know someone without firing off 100 questions. And I try not to assume things about people because you just never know where another person is in life. I know men often get asked, “What do you do for a living?” or “Where do you work?” as an ice-breaker, which I’m sure is awkward for the guy who is “in-between jobs right now.”
Never mind the follow-up questions and statements I get after they learn that I, in fact, do not have any kids. To complicate the whole thing, somewhere in the conversation (because yes, women also get the job questions right after the kid questions) they will learn that I am also a homemaker (a “stay-at-home... wife”) and this totally blows their minds! Here are a few of the common ones: “What in the world to you do all day?” “Oh, do you guys just not want any kids?” “How long have you guys been married? Are you just waiting?” And my very least favorite, “Well, if you want some kids I have some you can borrow!”
In order to avoid these moments and simultaneously explain my situation I usually find myself responding with some strange story-of-my-life, run-on sentence like, “No, we don’t have any children yet but we would like to have some it’s just been a struggle and we had no idea it would take this long and be so difficult and I just always wanted to grow up and be a wife and mom so I made the decision to stay home and before we knew it seven years had passed so here we are.” Anyway, you can imagine what a great first impression that makes on people.

9. “Life Is So Unfair”
This is another comment that has come up so many times in conversation. Someone will tell us, “You know, I just don’t understand why God won’t give you guys children when so many other people are having them and don’t deserve them.” What I have to say to that (here, in the privacy of my living room but I wish I had the guts to say it in those moments) is summed up in one word: Mercy. The fact is that, thankfully, God doesn’t give us all what we deserve! As a Christian I believe in a just, loving, and merciful God who created me, loves me, and has a plan for me. That doesn’t mean that I’ll get everything I want or think I should have. Yes, I can pray confidently that one day the Lord will give us children. And I pray that prayer to a God for whom nothing is impossible! But I really don’t think God sits around figuring out how to hand out his blessings. We can’t do anything to earn his grace. He gives it to us as a free gift. We live in a fallen world where bad things sometimes happen to good people and good things sometimes happen to bad people. I have no idea why I’m having trouble having a baby and someone else is not. It’s even hard to envision myself as the “good” person in the scenario. But I can rest in the knowledge that God isn’t considering what we deserve then giving or withholding his blessings. That’s just not biblical. The other point is that God loves that unwed teen who “made a mistake” just as much as he loves his most faithful child (and I don’t mean myself here). Infertility has taken me on a journey that has had many dark and lonely paths. I’m sure the spiritual aspect of it all will be touched on in a separate blog since there’s so much for me to cover. It’s amazing how the same issue has at different times brought me as close to God as I’ve ever felt and as far away.
To sum up this point I would just like to say that in general when someone is hurting and you want to encourage them or give them a compliment, I think the best way to go about it is to come right out with it. If you want to say, “I think you guys would be great parents,” that would be a very nice thing to say. Usually when people look for a round-about way to say something nice it ends up getting lost somewhere in all those words.

10. The Ambush
This next scenario is one I call “the ambush.” Let’s say I’m in the car on my way to a party I’ve been looking forward to attending. My family and friends will be there and I’m just minutes away. I’m giving a friend a ride and just as we’re approaching our destination she turns to me and spills her guts about how I’ve really been on her mind lately and she’s really been praying about my situation. She’s just heartbroken and is hurting so badly for us and just wanted to let me know.
Well, these aren’t necessarily bad things to say to somebody. These are typically very sincere and heartfelt moments. But here’s how the story ends: we pull up to the party and my friend gets out of the car feeling like a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders because she told me something that had been on her mind for months. I, however, am usually in tears by this point. I spend the entire evening having people ask me what’s wrong, and I sit there thinking of how this problem in my life really stinks instead of enjoying what would have been a delightful party.
I have been ambushed in almost every place that I visit on a regular basis: the grocery store, church, parties, reunions, but the worst place of all to ambush me is at a baby shower. I’ll tell you why. Chances are that I’m already doing my very best to put a brave face on and keep it together. The slightest sympathetic word or even look is all it would take for me to lose it. Oh, and if you’re the organizer of the baby shower and there’s someone in the crowd who you know is in the middle of going through infertility, it’s probably not a good idea to suggest that we all go around the room and take turns describing how wonderful it was when we gave birth to our daughters. Yes, that really happened.

11. “Have Fun Trying!”
I won’t dwell on this one for too long but we have heard it and think it’s kind of silly. I’m not being stereotypical, but we have mostly heard it from men. The reality is that if you’ve ever been a couple going through infertility, you know that the “trying” isn’t always what you’d call fun. It can be a challenge to view sex with your spouse as something other than trying to make a baby at just the right time, and it can become very stressful for a couple.

12. The Worst
This list may grow longer (although I sincerely hope it doesn’t!) in the future but for now I have intentionally saved the worst thing for last. I have heard this before and I’m sure that others have been on the receiving end of this one as well. I believe it is the absolute worst thing to say to someone who has had a miscarriage. It is, of course, “It’s for the best because there was probably something wrong with the baby.” Even if there were any way of knowing that I just don’t see how this remark could ever be helpful to anyone.


*Maybe you’re reading this and you are the friend or family member of someone facing infertility. Maybe I’ve overwhelmed you and you think there’s absolutely nothing you could ever say to make your loved one feel better. That may actually be true, but please don’t give up on them! Here are a few great things to say to someone who is hurting - as long as you mean it and as long as you’re careful not to “ambush” them!:
1. I’m sorry you have to go through this horrible thing.
2. I love you and I’m here for you.
3. I’m praying for you.
4. And finally, if you don’t know what to say, that’s ok. Just say “I really don’t know what to say…” on its own or followed by any of the others listed above. It’s ok that you don’t have just the right words. There are no right words. Sadly, there are lots of wrong words. But don’t let that scare you. Your friend will know when you are sincere. I’ve felt abandoned by many friends who just don’t know what to say and so they don’t try. They just give up and we pretty much lose touch completely. If you have said the wrong thing (which I have also done), don’t be afraid to apologize.

Thanks for letting me talk about one of the many bad things that I’ve had to deal with in this situation over the years! I hope it has been helpful to you in one way or another.