Beauty For Ashes

Writing about the babies we lost helps me to deal with the continued grief that is always there. There are things, like the passing of time, lessons learned, and the births of my daughters, that have helped to ease the burden of those losses, but nothing can ever take the pain or the memories away. And I've come to terms with that. Remembering them is important to me, and the process of giving each of them names has been part of my healing process as well.

Revisiting those experiences, one by one, felt like something I needed to do. Recurrent pregnancy loss has been a huge part of my life. I've been married to my husband for 15 years, more than half of which were nearly consumed by miscarriage and infertility. There was a lot of pain there, but we've come a long way. For that, I am thankful. And I'm constantly amazed and grateful that, by the grace of God, our story didn't end there.

After we lost little Aaron Joseph, our sixth baby, we experienced a new form of anguish: unexplained infertility. The weeks and months and, eventually, three years went by with no changes. After six pregnancies in six years, it seemed there might be no more chances. While we had some renewed hope and a new doctor, we still didn't know exactly why the first six pregnancies had ended too early. I wanted another chance. I hoped and prayed for another chance. But I was also terrified. Those three quiet years gave me some perspective. The fog had cleared a little bit and enough time had passed for me to realize that I never wanted to go back to that horror again. I knew, however, that it was a risk we'd have to take if we were ever going to see that dream realized and that longing fulfilled.

Above all I always trusted that my God was in control, even when my circumstances felt totally out of control. He's in the miracle business. That's what He does! Beauty for ashes; joy instead of mourning; praise instead of despair. (Isaiah 61:3)

He had something wonderful in store, and it was just around the corner. I'm just thankful that I held on for it.

Twelve years after we were married, nine years after we started trying to conceive, and eight years after the first positive pregnancy test, we finally looked upon the face of our daughter.

Two years and two months later, we held another daughter in our arms.

I don't know why it all happened the way that it did. I don't know why there was so much pain before the beauty, but I suppose that's what makes it all the more beautiful.

Ten Years

Today is the tenth anniversary of my first miscarriage. Ten years. An entire decade.

I'm finding it difficult to summarize it all in a blog post. We have lots of anniversaries like these -- six different miscarriage dates and six different unfulfilled due dates to go along with them. But this day in particular always carries so much emotion for me. It was the beginning of everything, the beginning of things I couldn't even imagine were yet to come. It was the end of a lot of things, too. The end of a certain sense of security and innocence that I had back then, at the age of 25. I thought my life was settling down after a difficult childhood with divorced parents and an alcoholic father and having just enough to scrape by. Against all odds I'd finished college and found a wonderful man to marry. We'd moved to a different state to follow a great job opportunity for him, and we'd just bought our first house. Now, I thought, we'll have a baby. Start a family.

Recurrent pregnancy loss was nowhere on my radar. I'm sure it never is for anybody. I'd known a few people who'd had a miscarriage before (my mom, included). But I didn't know anyone personally who had been through it over and over and over again. Not yet, anyway. Or it could have been that I knew them but just never knew their struggle. And I think that's entirely possible because, for some reason, people don't really talk about miscarriage. I went through a time like that myself. It felt like such a personal and private struggle and I became almost reclusive. I stopped wanting to socialize with people because I didn't want to let anyone in for fear they would trivialize what I was going through. I thought they could never understand, so I quit trying. All I kept hearing were things like, "Oh, you're young. It will happen if you just stay positive." "Something must have been wrong with the baby." "At least you know you can get pregnant."

All of those things hurt so much more than they helped. How did anybody know that I would eventually have a healthy baby? Was there any guarantee, really? Was it my fault for not thinking positively enough? What comfort could there be in thinking something was so wrong with my baby? And finally, what good was it doing for me to keep getting pregnant if my babies kept dying? How was that any consolation?

There were so many questions and never seemed to be any answers. Doctors couldn't give me any, and even my prayers seemed to be falling on deaf ears sometimes. I trusted that God had a plan but I had no idea what it was or how long it would take. Years passed and my babies continued to stop growing during the first trimester. We were desperate for help. The next 7 years went by in a blur of doctors, tests, surgeries, waiting, wondering, and most of all, more loss. I thought about giving up; thought it had become more than I could handle. Hope would return, though, and I would think What if the next time is the one? And what if it's the last chance we'll ever get?

Fast forward to 2010. After a new doctor, new tests (although not many new answers), and three years of infertility, the chance finally came. I still don't know exactly what was "right" about that time and what had been so "wrong" about every other time before. All I know is that somehow, miraculously, we held our daughter in our arms for the first time that September. She grew inside my body and arrived healthy and whole. And here I am in 2012, halfway through another pregnancy that is going well, hoping to hold another beautiful, healthy girl in November.

We've come so far and yet the hurt is still there. I still don't know how to answer the question, "Is this your first pregnancy?" A nurse at my doctor's office asked that just last week. She wasn't making small talk; I was there for blood work, another screening test. She was noting something on my chart. I stumbled over my words as I tried to answer, "No, it's not. It's my second. Well, it's actually my eighth pregnancy. But I only have one baby..." She stopped writing and looked up at me. "Oh, bless your heart," she said. I appreciated her kindness, but I hadn't been looking for sympathy. I was just trying to describe it all succinctly.

Sometimes I think I don't know how I got here... but oh, I do know. Simplified in my mind the years look like this:
2002-2007: Loss (x6)
2007-2009: Waiting...
2010-2012: Joy (x2)

But we all know that it's not summarized so easily. Because, broken down, I remember all too clearly the tears, the pain, the sleepless nights, the entire painful journey that led us to here and now. And the joy, too. Thank God for the joy that finally came and will come again!

I look back on the decade with lots of different emotions swirling around. I know this day will always make me remember, because it was the beginning of so much. It was the beginning of a lot of heartache, but it was also the beginning of the miracle that was to come. When I look at it all together, in hindsight, I can see much more clearly just how far we've come, and, amazingly, I can be thankful.

Family of Two

That's what we've been for almost 12 years. A family of two. As much as we've wanted children and as hard as we've struggled to have them, I love my family of two.

I wish it could be that we'd chosen to spend 12 years of married life together, just the two of us, before deciding to have a child. I would much prefer looking back on those years without seeing the pain and loss we went through, but I know that having been through that, together, is part of what makes me so grateful for my husband and partner in all of the ups and downs of this life.

In all the years that we've tried to have children, I never liked to say that we were "trying to start a family." I'm not offended when others use those words to describe it, but I always preferred to say that we were hoping to add to our family. We already have a family! We have a family of two that began on June 6, 1998.

It has been a long journey together, and one full of waiting. Before my husband and I met, I'd never had a serious boyfriend. I grew up in a small town and spent my free time hanging out with my sister and my friends. My high school years were sometimes a bit lonely when I realized that most of my friends were dating or had steady boyfriends, but I was pretty content with waiting. Although I had a few crushes along the way, I somehow knew that I hadn't met my someone just yet. I prayed about it often, and I waited.

I met "Chuck" my freshman year of college. We started casually dating in January of 1996, and even though the relationship had become far more serious by the end of March, we knew that we would be spending the entire summer apart. He worked in Florida on a summer missions project and I went home to work as a camp counselor at a local Christian camp. It was a summer of waiting -- waiting to see if our relationship really had legs and was going somewhere. We wrote letters all summer, and on my last day of camp he sent me flowers with a note that read, "Anxiously waiting to see you again." I returned to school a little bit early before the fall quarter began so we could have some time to spend together before classes resumed. The end of that summer was when we kissed for the first time, a full six months after we'd started dating. (Talk about waiting!)

It wasn't long before we started talking about our future together. I waited another year before he proposed in August of 1997. We waited until he finished school and had been working for a few months before our wedding day in June of the following year. And yes, the whole time we dated and were engaged, we waited to be married before starting a sexual relationship. We were committed to that decision from the start and we have never regretted it.

That sounds like a lot of waiting already, but it was nothing compared to our next adventure. After three years of getting settled in as newlyweds, we waited nine long years for a baby. As you know, ours was also a journey through recurrent pregnancy loss. The wait was excruciating and the loss was great, but we made it through together. All these years later, I have never felt more sure that I made the right decision by marrying this man. The years have brought us closer together and made our love for each other so much stronger than I could have imagined.

I love this family that we've made. Scratch that. I love this family that GOD made. I plan to enjoy and make the best of these next four and a half months of being a family of two! It is the end of a chapter that, while it had many hard and heartbreaking times, taught us so much about who we are and who we want to be. We are both at a place where we are happy when we look back on our life together. We're even happier about putting an end to this particular season of waiting and moving forward with all the lessons we've learned and becoming a family of three.

We're walking into this next adventure hand in hand, having learned a lot about life and loss, and most of all, love.

Second Ultrasound

I can't begin to express how much we have appreciated your prayers this week. Please know that they were truly felt!

I was really battling my nerves last night and this morning. It was an incredibly restless night and an anxious morning as we headed to the city, in the rain, for our 10 AM ultrasound. We arrived at the top level of the parking garage a few minutes before 10 and checked in at the front desk right on time. Just 5 minutes later, we were looking at our baby!

The doctor wasted no time showing us what we were desperately hoping to see on that screen. The baby looks great and everything is measuring normally for 6w5d. We saw that wonderful, flickering heartbeat, and for the first time ever we actually heard the heartbeat as well. It was a glorious 132 bpm and, I think, the greatest sound we've ever heard.

I couldn't help but cry tears of joy. The realist in me says that this is good news, but it's one big hurdle with more to follow. But the optimist in me is absolutely elated because of what we saw today!

My doctor is a straight-shooter and gets right to the point, so I decided to ask him what I imagine every person in my shoes (or socks, as the case may be) must want to know, "Should I be hopeful right now, even despite my history?" He answered "YES," and my tears kept flowing. Chuck and I hugged and cried after Dr. G left the room. Well, I cried. Chuck was as cool as a cucumber. After all, he'd been telling me all along that it was going to be okay.

And now we wait some more. Our next ultrasound appointment will be in 2 weeks, on Thursday, Feb. 18. For today, though, it's great news! One day at a time.

These are the verses in Scripture that I've been clinging to for the past few days:

1 Praise the LORD.
Praise, O servants of the LORD,
praise the name of the LORD.

² Let the name of the LORD be praised,
both now and forevermore.

³ From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets,
the name of the LORD is to be praised.

⁴ The LORD is exalted over all the nations,
his glory above the heavens.

⁵ Who is like the LORD our God,
the One who sits enthroned on high,

⁶ who stoops down to look
on the heavens and the earth?

⁷ He raises the poor from the dust
and lifts the needy from the ash heap;

⁸ he seats them with princes,
with the princes of their people.

⁹ He settles the barren woman in her home
as a happy mother of children.
Praise the LORD.

Psalm 113

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!

A Beautiful Birthday

This morning was our first ultrasound appointment with Dr. G. Being only 5 weeks along, I knew that we wouldn't be able to see much on the monitor, but we were simply hoping for good progress at this stage.

The doctor said everything is looking good! All we could see was the sac (and there was only one), but he said it was measuring right and everything looks normal. One step at a time, one day at a time, a little bit of good news at a time is really all we're asking for. We were so relieved to get a good report today.

Now is the hard part. We must wait another week and a half for another ultrasound. My next appointment won't be until February 4. It feels like an eternity to be in the dark about what is going on in there. Hopefully by then, though, we will see a tiny baby with a healthy heartbeat. Please, oh please.

All things considered, it has been a beautiful day so far! I couldn't have asked for a better birthday gift. Thanks for all of your prayers and well wishes! If all goes as hoped and planned, we are looking at a due date of September 25, 2010.

Please, Lord, let it come true. Let this be the one that sticks. Let this be the one we celebrate and hold in our arms.

Unexpected

Last month, as far as our fertility was concerned, I felt like we did everything right. The timing seemed perfect. We had our first IUI and were feeling pretty hopeful about our chances. We truly felt like having the IUI procedure would give us just the boost we needed in order to achieve pregnancy again. But it didn't work.

This month nothing worked right. Nothing seemed to come together. We felt stressed, frantic, and disorganized. We thought we were going to have IUI #2, but the timing didn't work out because of the New Year holiday. We were disappointed, frustrated, and feeling pretty negative about the whole thing. Those feelings, combined with being away from home for the holiday week, didn't exactly work in our favor for trying on our own.

Last night my husband and I were sitting in the living room, and with tears in my eyes I told him that sometimes it feels like we're fighting a losing battle.

This morning I awoke to something unexpected. It was a lot like nearly every other month for the past three years, but this time, the home pregnancy test was positive.

Deep breath. Here we go.

I composed myself, whispered a quick prayer (Please God, let this be it), called my husband at work, called the doctor's office, and called my mom. One thing I've learned after six pregnancies that ended too soon is that we don't spend a lot of time celebrating. We immediately kick into action mode. We needed to drive to Houston to get blood work done. I jumped in the shower and Chuck came home so we could go together. We were in and out of the lab in a few minutes and driving back home in the rain. Strangely enough, we've both been relatively calm today. I know that we are both nervous, but we're trying to stay level-headed. My sweet friends who have suffered from recurrent pregnancy loss will understand this. From here we proceed with caution. It's not that we aren't elated to have reached this point. We are! But when you have a long history of loss, you learn to keep your feelings in check.

It is hard to believe that we have been walking this long, arduous road for 9 years. In the first 6 years we had 6 pregnancies end in miscarriage. This week, January 22nd to be exact, is the third anniversary of my last loss. It has been 3 years of waiting and wondering if our time was over, if we'd missed our chance, if it would ever happen for us again. I know that seeing two lines on a pregnancy test is no guarantee that we'll be holding a real live baby in 9 months, but we are taking it for what it is. It's another chance. If there's one thing we know for sure at this point it's that today we are pregnant, and today we have another chance.

When I wrote the last post yesterday with the brief cycle update, I can tell you that I was about 99% sure that it was almost the beginning of a new cycle. I was so touched as all of your sweet comments came in hoping for that positive test. You guys truly amaze me. Thank you for hoping and believing even when I can't quite muster up the strength to do it myself.

Last month we did everything right and it didn't work. This month everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, but somehow it worked. I don't believe for a second that it's just a coincidence. I think that sometimes God knows that I need reminders that I'm not in control of this situation. He is. He always has been, even when I don't like how it turns out. And even when I think we've seriously messed everything up, even when I'm 99% sure we've failed, He can still come through with His perfect plan and His perfect timing.

I trust the Lord no matter what happens in the next few weeks, but I want you to know that I'm nervous. I'm human, and I have fears and worries galore. We still have a lot of waiting ahead of us and a lot of BIG hurdles. I did get a call back from the nurse today confirming the pregnancy. The lab results looked good: HCG 562, Progesterone 37.2. I'll go back in on Friday morning for more blood work to see if we have progress.

I've often wondered since I started this blog more than a year and a half ago what it would be like to experience a pregnancy with all of you on my team. Sharing this news this early on is so out of character for me! For years we went through these early days and weeks with a small group of family and even fewer friends, but somehow knowing that you're all standing with us and praying for us gives me peace of mind. Thanks so much, precious friends!

Just a few more words and I'll be done for tonight.
First of all, and most importantly, I pray every day for all of my sweet friends who are waiting in one way or another. I will continue to do this for as long as necessary. I'm still standing with all of you and hoping that your wait won't be much longer.

Please pray for us as our new wait continues.

And finally, for those of my real-life friends who read my blog, please, please don't mention this on Facebook or to anyone else just yet. It would mean a lot to us if you would just keep it under your hat for a while. Thank you! We love you guys.

In The Closet

Recently I showed you one of our guest rooms that we'd been working in to install crown molding. I mentioned that the room was intended to be our nursery when we bought our home. I was in the beginning of my first pregnancy then, and I had no idea what was around the corner for the next several years. Before we ever moved in, I miscarried.

With the next pregnancy I had a glimmer of hope that everything would be alright, but when it turned out so much like the first, we realized we may be dealing with a real problem. We began our search for answers and we had four more planned pregnancies over the next four years -- each one after tests and surgeries and medications that we hoped would make a difference. Each time, we hoped. We allowed ourselves to plan and to dream, if only a little bit. Each time that we got good test results or saw progress on an ultrasound, we let that hope take root and begin to grow.

Sometimes we would buy things. Things for our baby. We never bought a crib or a changing table or even a package of diapers, but occasionally we would see an outfit that was too cute to pass up. We picked up a few really cute and incredibly soft stuffed toys. I love children's books, so we have quite a little collection of some of my favorites. We were given a few things as gifts as well, from family members who hoped with us.

For a long time, I had the baby clothes hanging in the closet of that bedroom, on those cute little baby clothes hangers. After a few years and much grief and many tears, I finally folded them up and put them in boxes. The two boxes remain in the closet, up on the highest shelf. I also have a bag of maternity clothes passed down from my sister that I probably couldn't fit into right now in my non-pregnant state. Sometimes I wonder if the maternity clothes and even the baby clothes we bought, some as many as seven years ago, have gone out of style. Babies are probably wearing much cooler clothes these days. And I know that expectant mothers are. Even the young, hip, and stylish pregnant woman in jeans on the cover of the current edition of What to Expect When You're Expecting looks like she could run circles around the tired, house-dress-clad mom-to-be on the cover of my older copy.


Just last weekend I was doing a bit of reorganizing in that closet, as we do store other things in there besides baby stuff. I came across a shopping bag with two items in it that I think I purchased during or around our last pregnancy. Until I found the bag, I had pretty much forgotten about these little outfits, one for a boy and one for a girl, and very much a reflection of the two of us.


I feel like a lot has changed since I started trying to have a baby. I've changed, too. But in a basket of baby-name and breastfeeding books, I also found a list of names that I used to like for boys and for girls. I'd written them down during one of the pregnancies, in what was probably a very hopeful time. I was pleasantly surprised to see that they really hadn't changed. I still like those names, and I would still consider those same names if we had the chance to hope again.

But back it all went into the closet again, along with my hope, for how long I don't know.

Still Running

I'm not a runner. Honestly, I hate to run.

When I was in college, one of my friends suggested that I start running with her. She'd been running for years. I thought I'd give it a try and told her that I would have to start pretty slowly. Let me tell you, to put it nicely, it kicked my butt. I was able to keep up with my friend, but I noticed that I had to focus nearly all my energy on breathing in and out. I found it amusing that, while we would run, my friend would chat. Finally one day I told her that I absolutely didn't mind listening, but I would be a terrible conversationalist during our runs! I found it impossible to keep up my end of the conversation while gasping for air.

If any of you are runners out there, please don't be hard on me! I did my best to try to hang with my friend who obviously had more experience than I did. She knew what she was doing! I didn't, and I never quite caught on. We eventually quit running together (probably due to our schedules more than my dislike for it), and besides the occasional game of chase with my nephews, I haven't run for the sake of running since. I admire those who do it, but it's really not my thing. Truthfully, I've never been much of an athlete by any stretch of the imagination.

Figuratively speaking, however, I'm a runner alright. I'm a veritable track star.

Many times I run to escape my problems. Right now I'm running from seeing my fertility specialist. I haven't set foot in his office in a year and a half. We're supposed to be "trying again." But after all these months have passed with no change, I have become more and more afraid. So, I'm running. Every day I think about picking up the phone to make an appointment, but every day I find a reason not to. Maybe this will be the month that it happens again -- that we get pregnant and it actually sticks. You see, up until now we haven't sought a doctor's help to get to that point. My problem is with miscarriage. But now that pregnancy won't come, for whatever reason, I feel stuck. I feel afraid. I don't know what to do, which direction to go. So I've been avoiding it. Even worse, I'm afraid of someday hearing that we may never overcome this. This is a hard thing for me to admit to you today, but it's true.

I'm also running a race of endurance. I recently read something that compared infertility to a marathon. It is long and it is challenging. It feels like it may never end. I would almost prefer a sprint, I think, which is more intense but far shorter. This is my eighth year of running, and yes, I've been lapped many, many times. Sometimes I want to quit because it seems so hard and I wonder if I'll ever reach the finish line or achieve the goal.

Sometimes I feel less like a runner and more like a spectator. Others around me are running while I'm standing still. And some days I take on the role of a cheerleader, encouraging others who are pursuing their goal and rejoicing with them when they reach it. While I'm honored to be in that position whenever possible, there's no denying that it's hard and it's painful. It hurts to be the one left behind, the one still waiting and still running.

While I think the race analogy is a pretty accurate one in many ways, I'm not entirely comfortable with using it in terms of winning and losing. I certainly don't view my life as one big race to have a baby, while competing with my peers for one ultimate prize. In fact, I don't consider it my one and only goal in life to have children. While it may be my desire, my passion, and my dream, it is not all that I live for. If I never get there, I don't consider myself a loser or my life a waste. If I never become a parent, I am still a wife, a daughter, a sister, and a friend. Above and beyond all of that, I'm a child of God.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.

Hebrews 12:1-3

UPs and Downs

*Note: If you don't want details or spoilers about the movie UP, you might want to skip this post until after you've seen it!

My husband and I have a fun tradition. For the past 13 years, we have always made a date to go to the movies and see the latest Pix.ar film together. It all started with our first date in January of 1996, where the first movie we ever saw together was Pix.ar's very first film, Toy Story. (You can read more about our first date HERE.) Ten great films later, we still look forward to seeing their latest creation, and we get excited when we start seeing previews for what will become, for us at least, a new animated classic.

A couple of days ago, we set out to see the latest release, UP. It was a great evening for us to go to the movies. We had spent the whole weekend clearing everything out of our living room to have the floor replaced. We needed a break. We like to go to the theater on weeknights to try to avoid the crowds, and we know that soon summer will be in full swing with schools out and more people flocking to the theater. So, we got settled in with our tub o' popcorn, large soft drink to share, and napkins for our buttery fingers. Perfect.

After the previews, it was time for the always-anticipated short film that precedes the movie. I couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed that it featured, of all things, storks. Yes, the baby-delivering kind. That's okay. After all, it's not called a "short" film for nothing. It was over pretty quickly, and didn't focus much on the overjoyed faces of new parents with their swaddled surprises. Just a minor setback. Chuck and I exchanged glances and I mouthed the word "Seriously?" and the movie began.

Going into it, here's what I thought UP was about, based on previews I'd seen: A crotchety old man who used to live in a peaceful neighborhood is now not pleased about the urban development around his home. He doesn't want to sell the house and he doesn't want to be bothered, not even by the cute kid who knocks on his door seeking to earn a badge for assisting the elderly. The old man hatches a plan to get away from it all by tying thousands of balloons to his house and lifting himself and all of his beloved possessions up and away. He discovers that he is accompanied by the aforementioned kid, they have adventures, the kid softens the old man, end of story.

And that is pretty much what it is about. But, I was missing some details that, to some, may seem minor. You see, the old man is not just crotchety. He is grieving. In the early scenes of the film, we see him as a boy who dreams of adventure. Young Carl meets young Ellie, they grow up, fall in love, and get married. Soon they begin dreaming of bringing home a bundle of joy.



These scenes of the movie pass by quickly, like pieces of the old man's memory. Suddenly the scene shifts from the young couple on a sunny day, imagining images of babies in the clouds, to a heartbreaking scene of Carl and Ellie in a cold hospital, receiving devastating news. We don't hear the news, but we don't need to. They'll never have a child. Their baby dreams are over.

But Ellie has another dream. She dreams of exploring the wilds of South America and taking in the view of Paradise Falls with her own eyes, a goal made when she was a little girl. She wants to fill up their adventure book (a scrapbook whose pages will hold their most precious memories).

We can all relate to this, but life passes by so quickly and those dreams get pushed aside while we live (even happily) from day to day. Ellie and Carl are a happy couple, even though life hasn't always been easy. Carl finally realizes that it is time to make his wife's dream of adventure come true, and he buys the tickets even though they are much older now. It's not too late! Then, sadly, Ellie's health declines. The movie has just started, and just when I think I can't feel any more devastated, Carl is alone. It's my biggest fear. Not that I'll never get to see places I dream of seeing, of course, but that I'll end up all alone in the world someday without my dear husband, and with no children or grandchildren.

Sheesh. All this from a cartoon? I wasn't exactly expecting it either. I didn't hate the movie at all. I loved it. It was sad but it was also cute, sweet, and funny. But even after the story unfolded and Carl changed his life for the better, overcoming his grief and solitude, I still had to deal with my old familiar fear and hurt coming back to the surface. I watched the entire movie with a huge knot in my stomach and tears rolling down my cheeks. Afterward, my sister sent me a message to ask how the movie was and I could only respond, "SAD." She had been planning to take her boys to see it the next day. When I called her after they were done seeing it, I caught her still pulling herself together in her car.

I doubt that everyone will have this same reaction to this movie. I'm not telling you not to go see it! Heck, I'll even buy the DVD when it comes out, even though my husband joked that they should have named the movie "Down." Most people, I'm sure, will find it heartwarming and will also feel sad for Carl because he lost his wife, especially just short of making her big dream a reality.

But wait! I haven't gotten to the best part yet. The best part of the movie for me was when the old man picks up his wife's old adventure scrapbook and looks at it for what must have been the hundredth time. He never could bear to look at the empty pages and be reminded of the things they never did, the dreams never fulfilled. But this time he sees something new. Ellie had filled the pages. They weren't blank after all. He could see that their adventure was simply their life together, even the simple, everyday things.



I got a lot more than I bargained for by going to see this movie. In the end, though, I don't regret it. Turns out I needed a reminder that my life with Chuck is already my adventure. Even though I don't know the ending, I'm just glad we're both along for the ride.