Never Imagined

I have the kind of personality that imagines.

Imagines in a good way. 

Like I just had fun water painting this.

Imagines in a bad way. 

When a potential scenario, no matter how bad, enters my mind I have to imagine it to prepare myself, somewhat - as much as possible, for the possibility it actually happens. 

I have imagined never having kids.

I have imagined Sean dying.

If there is one thing I have feared even more than those two sad, sad scenarios, it is losing a child I finally have. I haven't even been able to bear fully imagining that situation. 

But one thing I never imagined is attending the funeral of an 18 month little boy. 

I don't even know how this is really happening, I can't even begin to imagine how his parents are feeling. 

No matter how difficult the things I imagine, nothing is as difficult as reality.

My Two Dads

Well, I stole the title from an old 80's sitcom, but the concept of multiple parents is far more common these days, and children in shared custody bear a striking resemblance to anyone who has struggled in spiritual teenage-hood.

So, we have the step-father, the father of lies, the one who lets you have fun, lets you do anything you want, no consequences, no limits, no discipline, no learning or earning maturity. As the spiritual teenager, rebellious, and not equipped yet to make the right choices, we want to refuse to give up all the 'fun' stuff. We can't see the long term benefits over the short term gains, we want what we want and we want it now.

Then there is the Father who conceived us, longed for the day we were born, and birthed us in His Heart. The one who loves us enough to die for us. The one who loves us too much to let us destroy ourselves with indulgence and entitlement.  Our Father who created us to be wholly perfect in His love, in His family, where we share ourselves in order to better love one another.

It pains our Father to see us not with Him at all times, He mourns the disconnection, but also the toll it takes on our lives to live with the step-father. But. He also knows that it is in our nature to want the best of both worlds, and so He allows this joint custody of us here on earth. He knows we need to discover what it's like to continue living under the step-father's roof, without the severe consequences of actually having to live with him full time yet. And He always offers the safety and stability for our reprieve when the chaos of that freedom gets too much.

It doesn't matter what age we are at, we can stay stuck in spiritual teenage-hood well into our adult years. What we may have learned maturing into adulthood hasn't yet translated to spiritually growing up. In fact, some of the ways we learned to cope with growing up, we now think we need them in order to be self-sustaining adults. But the point is that we'll never be successful at self-sustaining long term, we were created to be sustained by our Father. Yet, if we don't learn this, our coping with self-sustaining often turns from mere coping into an addiction to self.

And He understands, He knows how hard cold turkey is. In a way, earth has also become our rehabilitation home, an opportunity to restore us to the healthy, wholly perfect beings our Father created us to be. He would love to just rescue us, and take us into His eternal home instead, but it is a home that can only admit perfection, and He knows we can't go from where we are at to maintaining an expectation of perfection. Not without His help. So He compromised, He gave us another home, His Temple, where we can fully access Him, without the expectation of perfection.

As we learn what grace looks like here with Him, the desire to run away to gain freedom will lessen, and the desire to dwell here permanently, in true freedom, will grow. Once we understand our double-mindedness and make the choice to abide with our Father, we don't earn perfection, but we accept and receive the gift our Father has had for us all along, His covering of perfection. When we finally make that choice, we want to live with our Father forever, our earthly health may not yet be fully and wholly restored, but our inheritance is! In that moment we are welcomed into His eternal home, His children once and for all.

To Mothers, From an Un-Mother

I was forwarded a blog post today from a great friend who happens to be a mother.

It is from the perspective of a mother, who never had the struggle of trying for children, all 3 came easily to her. She writes about an important lesson she learned the first pregnancy, when she was full of joy and broadcasting it to the world. Some people just can't share in that joy, no matter how much they would like to.

She made several really great points. One being, infertility is often suffered in silence, so very often those around them are unaware of the pain they face, over and over again, each month. It is mostly a hidden grief so many people are oblivious to the impact of their declarations of parent-appropriate emotions. Second she acknowledged her own struggle with empathy even once she did know, and admitted her desire to have her feelings trump those of the infertile friend. This was her own personal experience but one I know that isn't an isolated situation.

The summary of the blog was to encourage mothers in particular to be sensitive, understand the continual pain, and to try not to do anything that just adds to the grief. I appreciate that sentiment, thank you. But I really hoped my friend who had sent the post hasn't been burdened with guilt  for her sharing pregnancy joy and toddler trials. So now I wanted to offer my own words to mothers from the other side, and hope other people battling infertility will consider these words as well.

Over the nine years of trying without success to be a mother I have encountered many different responses from women who are mothers but I have also encountered quite a few infertile women as well, and I have learned that mothers are not the only ones at fault for the hurt feelings that happen around infertility.

We who fall under the label infertile, even for a season,  sometimes choose our feelings over friendship, and we act like we have cornered the market on pain and strife.

We who can't be labelled mommy can let jealousy, envy and resentment cloud our ability to see mothers as just woman who have different struggles than us, but struggles just the same.

We who have empty wombs and arms can be so harshly judgemental for no other reason than our target was able to get pregnant and give birth, something they have no more control over than we have control over our inability.

The blog author mentioned she wanted her joy to trump the sorrow of the one who couldn't be a mother, but at times I have wanted my struggle to trump the struggle every mother goes through.

It took awhile for me to realize how unfair that was but it finally dawned on me, I don't compare any other pain, I don't begrudge someone dealing with anorexia because I have a problem with over eating. Hardships of motherhood are just as difficult as the hardships of infertility. I'm sorry to say my final lesson that hammered that home was learned at the expense of my sister, who had her own journey through infertility for 5 years, but when she had her first son and it wasn't an easy birth or newborn phase, and she didn't even complain, but as she shared her difficulties, my immediate reaction was to resent that her gratitude didn't automatically overcome her distress. It was then my eyes opened to just how insensitive I could be to moms, how insensitive a lot of infertile women could be to mothers.

I realize it's part of the society we live in, people tend to fall into ignorance to the impact of what they say or elevate the importance of our own feelings, but that doesn't excuse it, or help maintain healthy relationships. And there seems to be a growing hyper sensitivity increasing rather than just compassionate sensitivity around this area in particular.

Granted, it would be nice to have people consider my feelings before they say something like 'if you want kids so bad you can have my brats', but I never want a friend to feel like they have to walk on egg shells around me or feel like they can't share the reality of their life with me, because then I am not being a good friend, or a friend at all really. My feelings are not more important and do not negate the feelings of my friends. It hasn't been as hard to change how I choose to react and feel about it now that I am aware.

And maybe I'm also really lucky that I have pretty amazing friends who really do respect and honor my feelings, and feel them with me, and so it makes it easy to value them over holding tightly to my pain.  I am a lucky girl.

All I Wanna Be Is Done

The last four Novembers my posts have looked a lot like this.

I'm am so over this year.

I want next year now please.

Maybe next year will be better.

Early November, I thought this year would be no different.

• A job I was fed up with.
• The infertility support group flopped.
• Stopped all conception aids.
• Christian community shrinking.
• Best friend moved away.
• Friend diagnosed with cancer.

There were of course some great moments too:

• Starting running again.
• Starting school again.
• Deeper marital connection and happiness.
• The chance to lead an infertility support group.
• 3 fantastic vacation road trips.
• Maid of Honor for my bestie.
• Friend now cancer free.
• Starting painting again.
• Many meaningful connections with family & friends.
• A potential new ministry God is calling me to.

As full of gratitude for those lovely cherished moments as I was, by first week of November I was....as I already said a few posts ago....at the end of my rope with my job and with waiting. I felt like I was waiting for everything. I'd been feeling this way last year this time too.

Then, as you know, I was laid off mid-November.
In a way it was just a small change. I still have to wait for employment that God is leading me towards, but at least I wasn't waiting in misery and now I'm waiting in freedom!
In a way it was a huge change. My gratitude for God, blessing me in the way He did, ballooned and gratitude is definitely an antidote for attitude. My patience was renewed for other things I'm waiting for.

That was 5+ weeks ago. I've been happy and grateful and patient through that entire time, looking forward to the holidays and in no rush to be rid of 2014 nor begging for that 'clean slate.'

Until Friday.

In a way it was just a small thing. It was a month I didn't expect to get pregnant anyway. I was sufficiently distracted during the time I expected to get that news.
Then suddenly it became a huge thing. I won't go into details but suffice it to say I feel like my body is toying with me. I went through the emotional rollercoaster of believing I was pregnant and then not pregnant 3 times in 8 days. With each time the hope just grew and grew and grew.

Because it's Christmas, and like a few other annual celebrations, it is a reminder there is still just two of us in our family picture.

Because it's 13 days away from our nine year anniversary of chasing this dream.

Because this is the year we finally stopped trying....to help God....with conception.

Because 2014 was supposed to be the year, and it wasn't only I who heard it this time.

I'm at the point I just don't know anymore.
I don't know what to do.
I don't know how to feel.

By now I know 2015 will not magically make me 'all better'. But I'm still done with 2014.

Giving Up or Letting Go

Awhile ago I had a friend who was in a really hard place in life and she asked on FB, 'what is the difference between letting go and giving up?' I don't recall the myriad of answers, not even my own, but now I find myself wondering the same thing.

I think my answer (if not in the comments, in my brain) was something about the heart of the matter. If I'm releasing something because I just am too tired and weak to hope and try anymore, that I don't want to continue because I can't on my own strength, then that is giving up. If I am releasing it because I am understanding that all my efforts do not impact the final outcome anyway, because I want to have peace despite my efforts or non-efforts, then that is letting go.

My tripping point in this philosophy is that other philosophy that I still need to do my part. Like the joke about a prayer to God to win the lottery and the punchline is that you still have to buy the ticket. I don't think I'm going to be another immaculate conception so basic biology says we have to do our part at the right time with healthy parts. 

I think 4 years ago I was giving up. I said I was stopping most every action (other than intimacy) that could be construed as trying and was waiving the white flag, daring God to perform a miracle. I believed it could happen, but not that it would. 

Hope of course creeped back in, trying was once again on the table.  I tried to be smarter about trying. Less controlling about trying. Including Sean and God in decisions about trying.  It all felt like I wasn't doing it on my own power, this time. Until April. Until I was faced with no more prescriptions. Until I was so friggin' tired of watching my temperature for nothing. I wondered, if I am not trying too hard at trying then why is this so tiring?

So now I am asking myself, am I just tired of hoping, tired of thinking about it every single day when I take my temperature and chart everything related so we can have perfect timing? Or am I making peace with the fact God has anointed a time for us to conceive and it will happen regardless. And am I tired of my body feeling really awful on medication and don't have the strength to keep it up for the unforeseeable future? Or am I just finally believing God will use that one last healthy egg I may have when the time is right?

I think I'm really close to the latter, with a tiny smattering of the former.

Summer Summary

I haven't posted as regularly as I have wanted to but life has just been so insistent on being lived rather than narrated. I've had a bit more time on my hands these last few days, a short reprieve as wedding plans for my best friend commence now, so I thought I'd give a snapshot of life right now.

My summer goals were to:

Read more (check)

Paint more (check)

More God time (mostly check)

Time with women God has laid on my heart (check) (although missing my best friend)

Travel (check)

I am very happy with the results of this list, even considering I spent about 5-6 weeks madly planning fundraising for my friend Esther, which was a actually not that stressful but was hugely successful! I also was able to sign up for school and was really affirmed by our pastor of the ministry we serve in and am looking forward to how I'll be serving at Church this upcoming year.

Yet, no matter how blessed I am. No matter how much God is teaching me about His perfect timing. I put this on my list for the summer:

Get pregnant (no check)

I have now hit age 37 and people have stopped saying when they find out I'm trying to have kids, 'don't worry, you are still young!'

I was so certain there was a magical combination of perfect things that happened around my birthday this year that would make it that just right timing.


It's been a challenge trying to keep the hope up.


Good thing distraction abounds. Tomorrow I'm off for the weekend, to finally visit the bestie and plan her wedding.

Schrödinger's Cat

TMI Warning

I'm weird.

Evidence:
1) I know about a quantum mechanics experiment named Schrödinger's cat, and if you do too it's because you are a physicist or you watch Big Bang Theory. I am the latter. The experiment essentially is a cat in a box with the potential for dying and while the box is closed, with no way of knowing the status of the cat, the cat is both alive and dead.

2) I related this experiment to my uterus this month. My last two cycles have been 37-38 days with no real PMS symptoms and yet negative pregnancy tests. So earlier this week I came to the conclusion I have Schrödinger's uterus. Not sure if life or death was waiting for me.

3) I found it hilarious the day after when I 'opened the box and the cat was dead.' Really I laughed....mostly because that result in that wording was a funny coincidence.

See, told you.

I'm weird.

Delivered

As many of you know, I have struggled with a myriad of body image, food, activity, and self-worth issues.  Most of you also know about my infertility issues. And in May of this year, you may have received an email from me disclosing how I felt they were intertwined and I was looking for deliverance on the issue.

I mentioned in that email a long history of this intertwining between my body image and child bearing. In applying the 12 step recovery model to my food overuse/abuse, I began to see just how far back. Like at the age of eleven when my dad said I looked like my aunt.  Now, with 25 years of hindsight, I realize he would not have meant this as an insult, this was his sister he loved he was comparing me too. However. I was bordering on puberty, body issues already beginning to arise, and my aunt was self-proclaimed 'fat and ugly' and also single and without children. So that's the beginning of when the fear took hold, that was the total package I was destined for.

Yet, once I was able to 'catch' myself a husband ;) I had no doubt we would have children. It was just the way it was supposed to be. I'd always wanted to be a mother.  When that wasn't happening we went to the Winnipeg Heartland Fertility Clinic in 2008, and the doctor tells me all my tests are fine, found no probable cause, 'it's probably your weight'. This was a huge blow to my denial that I wasn't that overweight. I felt a little better when he told my much slimmer sister the same thing (turns out we both have VERY different issues), but here was a confirmation of that condescending voice in my head, 'you've done it to yourself, your fat, now you can't have kids.'

That started an 8 year long quest to find out what God wanted from me in order to be able to have children, if my weight played a part, or if I would have children at all. At a Women's retreat in Spring 2012 we were being spoken to about Jesus' Shepard heart, and about spending time with him in the space of his heart and ours. If I recall there was some self-worth talk as well. On the last day, during a quiet time I took the opportunity for some listening prayer time, a heart to heart with Jesus. Of course I inevitably asked about motherhood, and an image of me being able to go to the beach in a bikini entered my mind, and immediately my mind covered up that image because I began to see my body like I thought instead of what I wished. Then God ripped off the towel I was hiding behind, and the bikini! He told my body was not meant to be a bikini body, it was meant to be a healthy body, and how He loves me even naked.  All that from a question about motherhood :/ hmmmm.

But the quest for what wellness and a healthy body really meant was not over, not by a long shot. It was September 2012 I started applying the 12 step model to the process and dug up a lot of bad habits I just couldn't seem to release.  I wrote in my journal just days before my miscarriage in January 2013 that I was getting weighed down by the inability to see myself as beautiful or attractive, still! I even reached out to my small group for prayer and I was given a Word, to write in my journal to myself from God - and when I did He said my body is just the way it should be right now, but more importantly my heart was His trophy. If my body was an art gallery my heart would be the highlighted central show piece.  A message I needed to hear, but didn't have time to sink in before I was distracted by grief.

I hit my lowest self-worth pit when I saw pictures from our 10th anniversary. Pictures of my body specifically, threw me into a tail spin of self hatred. It was also exactly a year since we'd started trying again, and I was so disheartened. I had sensed for a year already that care and value for my body were tied to child-bearing and so I punished myself for not have taken that more seriously. I almost loathed myself, but 3 amazing friends came along side me and spoke truth over my self-image and gave me many gifts of words through songs and poems. I knew they were a gift from God, truths from God. They helped but the detesting of my body did not stop.

Then one night at CR in May, our new Ministry Pastor (who was 'just' Pastor at the time) came and did a guest speaking spot. He talked about what grace/salvation really means. Salvation in Greek is Sozo, which has a few meanings, but not separate meanings, they are to be a package deal - salvation, healing, deliverance. Deliverance is the one God threw on the light-bulb for. I searched for answers about my body image, God's truth about my health, and then our Pastor ended by playing a song. A song that was played by a friend the day after our miscarriage, about being 'in His hands'. Yikes!
I talked to our pastor after and asked him, if I felt I was needing the deliverance component, what does that look like? He talked to me about strongholds we have been unable to see ourselves, and needing others around us to pray truth into our struggles, to pray deliverance from certain strongholds that are too rooted in us. Strongholds represent an area where the enemy has had time to get fortified and well dug in. He gave me this verse. "If you are having trouble overcoming a temptation or addiction, it's not that your prayers are not effective; the problem is that the enemy has managed to get dug in. In these kinds of cases, it not only takes prayer, but it also takes fasting along with prayer to dig the enemy out."Matthew 17:14-21
I then searched for more information on Biblical deliverance and continually came across prayer and fasting. Some bondage's you can only be free of with prayer and fasting. "Fasting and prayer breaks the stronghold grip of satan and digs him out, allowing you to get the strength and victory to overcome him."  Isaiah 58:6
In sharing my desire for deliverance with a friend, she also happened to offer Matthew 17's insight, and she encouraged me to commit to a regular time of prayer and fasting, and offered to join me! That inspired me and that's when I reached out for help in prayer and fasting, many of you joined me, for which I'm grateful.

I didn't seem to get any direct answers to those prayers, but I received a 'round about' answer. I began pursuing more of God's truth about how he sees me, inspired by something some friends had shared, and during a heart to heart with Jesus, I was given the image of him painting me out of his heart, and it began to free me from a lot of my self-image hatred, I began to see my body was beautiful about that same time. From just after my January miscarriage to mid-Spring I had inclinations my latest tattoo design was intertwined with having a baby, but I didn't connect the dots, only after my tattoo did I realize it represented that vision I had from God about how he painted/created me and my heart to be a masterpiece work of art, so my tattoo was intertwined with my self-image AND my future children. 

It was at that moment, seeing the tattoo in that light, that I felt the death blow to my low self-worth. There has been a lifetime of deliverance that happened in 2013.  And I waited for the pregnancy. And here I am, almost 6 months later with no pregnancy. However, I am beginning to have inklings as to why God felt it so important to change my perception of beauty BEFORE I have children. They have something to do with the beauty of my child. He's telling me my definition of beauty will change even more once I have this child. I have long had the gift of seeing others through His eyes, so I know this is something significant, this child will be special. I don't know yet in what way. But I know my deliverance was important to her/his life.

And so with one delivery, I patiently await the next.

Hope-Full

My hope has been under attack.

For many years, but especially the last four months.

Steady, constant, overwhelming attack.

At times so strong I’ve almost said, ‘I give up.’

Most days so strong I can’t ask God for anything anymore. 

I realized what an anchor God was for me exactly a year ago today, and again in early October.  Anchor was my word of the year it seems, I kept hearing it everywhere. When I asked God to show me my anchors, and he showed me I was born with 3, and they were natural gifts he gave me strength in since birth, they were faith, love, and ….

Hope.

Satan started out my life by attacking my gift of love. He twisted it and manipulated it into codependency until I was 22.

Then satan started to attack my hope in 2007.  My hope for a future. And I spent the next 3 years trying to strong arm that hope through control by any means necessary.

I realized this year for the first time that the areas we are weakest in are often our gifts under attack. Because our gifts are from God, by His design, for His purpose, for His glory, so of course that is the bull’s-eye mark for satan.

And yet, it took me four months to understand that my hope was actually under attack, not just me, but specifically my hope. It hasn’t been this bad since 2010. And with so many confirmations from God in the last 23 months, more than ever in the entire 8 years we’ve been trying, this is when I should have had SO much hope. 

I’ve had my moments. My balloon moments.  But my hope hasn’t been fully in God. Yes I believe His promises, but it’s much easier to believe in vague promises for the future than it is to hear Him say, for example, ‘January’ and then to lose the baby.  But that kind of hope has been sustained by MY strength, putting bubble wrap around sharp objects so it doesn’t deflate my balloon.  A kind friend pointed out God wants to be my hope and strength. 

That A-Ha moment this morning led me to realize just how persistent satan has been in trying to deflate my hope for the last 120 days.  I knew I hit the nail on the head when immediately after my devotional emailed me this morning, and it was the exact verse I ended my Bible reading with last night.

1 Peter 5:8-10 – “Stay alert! Watch out for your great enemy, the devil. He prowls around like a roaring lion, looking for someone to devour. Stand firm against him, and be strong in your faith…..he (God) will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.”

This exact verse was actually read as part of a devotional at a Celebrate Recovery leader’s meeting last September, right before our director started taking steps away from CR, and right before my miscarriage.  I thought it had to do with the former, not the latter.

So, now I know. My hope is under attack. My life long buoyant hope has been grounded in my faith, they are intrinsically tied, attack my hope and my faith will suffer. And it has. It will no longer. But I wonder if that is all there is to it. I wonder if this ever increasing attack on my hope is to get me stop trying for a baby. It worked in 2010. And so I ponder the magnitude of the impact my child may have on God’s kingdom one day if satan is so determined to get me to give up. 

I can hope!

Read the small print

Systematic, problematic
Come on, don't be so dramatic...

Lyrics to a song on my Just Dance 4, but feels like my life this last week.

 

Medication side effects.

 

Fun.

 

For the most part I've avoided reading side effects, because I'm highly suggestible (I'll likely adopt the symptoms), and I've trusted that the effects would not outweigh the benefit. I'm beginning to shed that ignorance with the lawsuits against HPV vaccines showing the risk of HPV is 1% and risk of side effects from vaccine is 3%.

But anywho.

I was told about the most prevalent side effects by my doctor and friend who was on Chlomid, and I was prepared to deal with that for a treatment I believe will work. Amplified cycle symptoms seemed doable since I hardly have any to begin with.

While their magnitude did take me by surprise a little, I knew fairly quickly, because of the timing, what I was experiencing. 

That was the first two doses. Now I am on the third, and highest.

Woah.

At first I did not catch on.

 

I've been in the midst of my typical fall busyness, experiencing stress with some upheaval in our CR ministry, the seasonal light change affecting me, not seeing friends/small group as much as I need. And then there's soldiering on maybe a little too quickly each month, because I'm on as strict cyclical regiment if I want this to happen anytime soon!

But I thought I was on the start of an upswing, getting motivation and energy back when suddenly I seemed to get knocked back down on my ass.

Suddenly I was so tired again. No energy. Couldn't sleep well. Felt inexplicably anxious about being drained of energy. Restless but not motivated. Cold and hot. Thought I was getting sick, but I never actually got sick.

Then the emotional rollercoaster started. Seems just about everything made me instantly weepy; t.v., songs, a blog post, a nice thing a friend said..... I'd ask myself 'what's wrong with you!' (not waiting for an answer) and forcing myself to 'smarten up'.  

 

But then it was my own thoughts making me weep, thoughts like, I'm done. I can't keep going through this waiting. Through this crazy cycle every month. My patience and hope have been stretched to the max. Eventually even a rubber band can't stretch anymore and snaps. I just can't anymore.

I felt so over dramatic.

Then for some reason, it clicked. This kicked into full gear 2 days earlier when I started my third dose. I decided to look up side effects of Chlomid. 

 

Fatigue

Can't sleep

Restlessness

Nervousness

Hot flashes 

Depression
Increased Estrogen - aka emotional sensitivity

Funny how understanding can temper a storm. Feeling normal in your abnormality helps tremendously!

Good News Bad News

Good News.
I think the Chlomid worked a little bit.

I made peace that it wasn't resulting in a pregnancy this month.

My head and heart are ok.

Bad News.
The viability of my egg increased enough to get pregnant, not enough to stay pregnant.

The viability of my egg increased so much that this was the worst miscarriage I have ever had physically.

My body was not ok the last 4 days.

This is really sucky timing. Sean's birthday is today. 

Good News.
I am ok. We're ok.

We're still hopeful.

We're still trusting.

I am starting the count all over again this month.

Ready for the next higher dosage.

Full Cycle

Life has a funny way of coming full circle, in many different ways. Mine has come full circle in my fertility.

It's almost exactly five years ago that all our tests were completed at the Heartland Fertility Clinic (well, all their tests, which isn't exhaustive as I've since found out) and came up with no negative results. While my hormone tests all came back within normal ranges, the doctor speculated because I was overweight that my insulin could be driving my Estrogen too high and my body was thinking I was already pregnant, and that while being overweight was my only symptom of PCOS, he thought taking the typical treatment drug for it, Metformin, was my first best option to 'fix' the problem. If my insulin levels were too high the drug would lower my insulin levels to trick my Estrogen levels into lowering to a normal level as well. He said if that didn't work I could come back and talk to him about another drug, Clomid, with the disclaimer it brought the chance of multiple births.

The problem was, he hadn't diagnosed a problem. I didn't see any test results, but initially he had said all my hormone levels were normal. But in the face of no other answers I took it. After a few weeks Sean and I sat down to talk about it and realized a few things. First, I was already trying to lose weight (and succeeding) in case weight was the issue, and so on the drug we wouldn't know when my body normalized it's cycle on it's own. Second, we felt like we were given a generic band-aid solution (it was prescribed to other people I know who have very different fertility problems, and it wasn't a viable solution for them either) and didn't feel comfortable taking a drug when we didn't even know if it was actually a solution for us. I was feeling ill taking it, which I would have gladly suffered through if I knew this medication was what I needed. But I didn't. So I stopped taking it.

I felt so uncared for by the fertility clinic that I didn't even bother to go back to talk about it. The other drug wasn't explained as to how it might be better suited to my issues, what it would do to help my cycle, and with the huge red flag warning, we were not any more eager to try that option. We had only been trying for 2.5 years, maybe we just needed more time, not multiple births.

So, fast forward five years. And all the new information those five years brought. And a new doctor to take new tests, some not done before. And still all the test came back with no negative results. One key piece of new information though was that I had 'likely' miscarried. Doctors won't use that word unless there was a pregnancy test first, but I know what my body went through. But she still took that under consideration, and after considering all aspects came up with a treatment that actually made sense for my body, she talked to me about a drug that could help me in two ways. She called it Clomifene and said it would stimulate the release of a stronger egg, a more viable egg, so that if it was fertilized it had a better chance of surviving. This stronger egg that was stimulated would also be a second egg, I would likely be ovulating 2 eggs per month, doubling my chances of getting pregnant each month. Yes, that meant there was a 10% chance of twins she said. I said, sign me up! I've always wanted twins!

I found out through a family member a few more things about the drug and even with the side effects, I feel like this is the treatment for me. While I still don't have a diagnosis, this medication makes sense with what we understand about my cycle, and it's not based on what feels like guesses and one-size-fits-all treatment. This is the treatment I have been waiting for. That's another thing I found out from this person, this drug is also known as Clomid. I literally have been waiting for THIS treatment for 5 years!

And yet, it doesn't bother me. I know God had this timing for a reason. There are any number of ways He could have directed me back to Heartland to seek further treatment. He could have added some compassion to the very clinical Dr. in the first place, and given me a more personal explanation of the drug. Even I can see reasons God didn't let it happen then. Even with all the challenges five years has or could add to having children, I know God's timing is perfect. Even down to the month I can start taking this drug, His timing is perfect.

As some of you have read here previously, another perfectly timed component of this story has been my tattoo. I'm not sure why this tattoo keeps weaving into my fertility but once again it has. My tattoo was scheduled for August 4th, finally, and when I showed up my artist was in bad shape. The receptionist said she was sick but she came out to talk to me personally and I could tell she was dealing with something more than physical sickness, there was a level of emotion and stress that were overwhelming her, and I understood that it would not be good for either of us to do this that day. But she knows how very long I've waited for this tattoo and so she rebooked me on a day off she had booked so I wouldn't have to wait very long, only until September 7th. As it should happen, the timing of my new medication will not work in August, with my appointment missing the start date by only one day, and my trip to California very perfectly timed to interrupt conception as well, so my next window to start the treatment is likely September 6th or 7th.

Go figure. I'm really not surprised anymore. God evidently likes bringing things full cycle in my life.

Happy Mother's Day

I haven't been shy in the last few month of sharing some prophetic words given to me about children. I was before January, but I learned just because I may not have understood the revelation 100% didn't make it any less real or true, and I am no longer concerned with what other people think if it doesn't happen like 'it was supposed to'.

Prophetic words/visions are quite a new experience for me. Before I met my husband, I didn't think that happened since Revelation. He was the only one I had ever met who 'knew' things before they happened. Then I heard a little more about it in our Church circles, but I thought they were a spiritual gift that only certain people could get, only Prophets could get. Ever since I've learned about listening prayer though, God has been proving that is not the case over and over again for me in the last 2 years. It's still pretty unfamiliar territory though in my family.


So, anyway, on Friday my mom took me out for lunch while she was in Winnipeg for appointments, we get to do this 1-2 a year and it's a nice time just the two of us to talk. She's been reading my blog faithfully since I began it (Hi mom!) and has read about the rainbow promises through my friend. She decided, that since I'm open to hearing about words/visions from God she would share the one she had for me. Since this is a new experience for her, she wasn't sure she should share, she asked for advice from other prayer warriors who advised she would know when and if to tell me. She took my blog about my latest promise as a sign to share.

My mom was praying in March for a couple who was finally pregnant after nine years, some complications with getting sick in the 8th month. These prayers didn't include/touch on my situation at all. Anyway, as she was praying for this couple she heard 'Your daughter next year.' And she knew this was meant for me about having a child.

A timely gift from my mom, and God, just days before Mother's Day, one of the hardest days of the year for me. I know God is making it very hard to be doubtful, as this is at least the 4th time someone has said God has told them I will one day have children in the last 3 months. Before mom's words, I had enough faith renewed I could have waited a few more years. Now I'm pretty sure I won't have to!

The Relationship Vehicle

A few observations I've made while driving (coincidentally, or not, with my husband) last week. When two people enter into a relationship, especially one of a romantic nature, there are things we can fail to consider until it's too late. I came to the conclusion that this is how I'm going to explain dating to my kids one day.

When you enter into a romantic relationship, you are entering a relationship vehicle.

You both have a steering wheel.
If you ignore yours, if you give it to the other person, or if you don't figure out where you want to go, you will get taken for a ride rather than journeying together, and you will very likely get taken to places you do not want to go.  Even if you think you want the same destination, there may be short-cuts or long winding roads you don't want to take.

You both have brake and gas pedal.
You have equal access to slow or stop the vehicle, braking does work even if the other person is on the gas.  Don't feel like you are stuck in a fast moving vehicle where your only option is to open the door and jump out, risking injury, or just as bad, staying trapped in that vehicle.

You both have a gas tank.
But, you don't fill your own tank, the other person does. You control what it is that qualifies as fuel (feeling loved) but the other person is the one who has to pour it in your tank.  You can only go so far when one tank is empty, it will have the same drag effect as their brakes being on. Two empty tanks is a huge problem, do you not want to fill each other's tanks?  Do you not know how and don't communicate?

The biggest trouble is when one person will forget they have, or pretend they don't have, or they hand over their control of the vehicle.  That is a sure way to find themselves stuck in a fast moving vehicle, driving down roads they never intended - placing themselves at risk/in danger - and all just to get to a destination they either never reach or a destination they were wrong about.  It doesn't have to be that way.

Just like a GPS unit, it is wise to start with communicating each travel plan, the intended route, speed, and destination. This way you can compare, negotiate, and/or change before too much ground is covered and assumptions are made. Maybe you'll figure out you are not meant to drive together. Maybe you'll figure out your travel plans are quite different, you might be willing to drive together but knowingly for a short distance. This can save you from making terribly wrong detours/short-cuts because you know this isn't the person you are meant to get to your destination with.

Don't even get me started on all the road signs they should pay attention to. CAUTION! I missed that one :)
But, truly, I wish I had this perspective when I was a young woman, I could have equal say, and I needed to verbally say things.  My speed and route were sometimes risky and dangerous, there was some harm and pain, scars and recovery. I really hope and pray some day my kids don't have to learn the hard way.

In His Hands

When I first created the name for this blog, Lori-in*HIS*hands, I was still wrestling with actually feeling like I was individually cared for a God that created everything. Almost 8 years later, I can say I feel like God is personally invested in my life, yearns to spend one-on-one time with me in our favorite spot, and that he tells me things, he shares secrets with me, he gives me personal insight, and sometimes he tells me things that are inconsequential, but I know it's proof he's right there with me in even the mundane moments.

Yet. Just over a week ago, I felt like I was anywhere but in the safe, caring hands of my Father. I had begged him not to let it happen. For a few days, that's the last thing I had said to him, because I didn't know what else to say. Where could I go from a request that meant life or death, that didn't get answered the way I wanted it to? I felt instant distance.  But I knew I had crawled out of his hands, I could feel him trying to draw me back to him, and I wouldn't.

Then, he gave me a song. At our small group the very next day our friend was doing worship and she played this song.

Then, the next day, Friday, we opened up to share it as a prayer request and the leader who prayed for us said something like, 'God, this little one is now in your hands, who you knew before they were in Lori's womb.'

On Sunday, during worship, God showed me a picture of him holding me at that moment I was begging him not to take away my baby. How he was holding me, and the baby, and just weeping with a broken heart for me.

Then on Tuesday, a particularly anxiety filled day for me, I decided to try aroma therapy to calm myself, I bought some lavender chamomile foam bubbles for a bath later that night. Right before I was about to go get in my bath, my dear friend stumbled across this anointing oil on a website, Scents of Heaven, and sent this link to me. I can't begin to tell you how my heart leaped in my chest.   An anointing oil, scented with lavender, called 'In His Hands' whose history came about when a lady had a miscarriage. On the same day I was obsessed with aromatherapy.

Then, last night, at small group again, we were doing some listening prayer. I was leading us through something similar done just about exactly a year before at our Church. It was in fact that journey of listening prayer that led me to God's promise for children. I shared this experience and the journey, then we all invited God to reveal a place he wanted to take us. God took me to heaven and showed me my baby being held by an angel, it took me a few moments, but then I realized that exact picture I had seen before. I had seen it almost a year and a half ago, in a dream. This dream.

I may have crawled out of God's hands but he would not let me stay there. He kept pursuing me to draw close to him again, heaping upon me proof that he has me, and my babies (all of 5 of them), in his hands. Showing me how he feels what I feel, the sadness, the grief, and it felt even deeper than my own. Then, heaping upon me the love of those around me, to pour out his love on his behalf. There are many, many, many other things he has revealed to me, blessed me with, promised me in the last few days that erase all doubts, there is no question how tenderly and tightly he is holding on to me in his hands.  I am almost to a point, it is getting hard to grieve because of all the good that he has brought out of this. Yet I know he wants me to mourn as I need, and he wants to hold me and comfort me.

Even though I walk through the valley

I have used the analogy that life is like a roller coaster quite often, as this post, and this post, and this post, and this post will attest. The parallels are obvious, you get some highs, you get some lows, you get thrown for a loop quite regularly, sometimes you are exhilarated, some times you want to throw up, sometimes you are terrified. As of today I have a new roller coaster analogy.  Sometimes momentum is not enough to get you up the next hill after you've swung through a deep chasm, that's when some added strength is needed, you need that chain to help pull it up to the next peak.

Fertility has been my 7 year long roller coaster ride. The same roller coaster every time, waiting to be able to finally get off and move on to the mother of all roller coasters (haha?). I finally got so sick from the ride I got off of it in 2010. And I say, 'I got off' because I truly felt like Sean wasn't on that ride with me anymore by that point. I think I stopped letting him in the cart with me somewhere along the way. He hadn't really been there for his enjoyment, it had been all for me. And that's a huge part of why I felt sick of the ride, I had no one beside me to share the experience with. But then, almost 2 years later, I felt like I could be ok trying to get back on again....IF Sean was desiring to share the ride with me. And he was! And having him beside me as we started along these tracks again was invigorating, the lows were spent in anticipation of the highs, and in the loops we clung to each other and felt safe throughout. It was more than centrifugal forces keeping us glued to each other, there was a new, industrial-strength bond holding us together and it made the ride so much more wonderful than before, more than I had ever imagined.

Our ride took us to a pinnacle we hadn't reached, together, before.  Maybe it was the exhilaration, maybe it was the high altitude, but we were euphoric.  This was it. Until unexpectedly the ride dive bombed into a spiral downwards. Gravity had no mercy on us, and as we sunk into the lowest valley I had that familiar sickening disassociation of leaving my heart and stomach to free fall behind me.

At first I tried to do what I had done before. Yes. Before.

I had hit that pinnacle, and then sunk to that valley 4 times before. Some times I told Sean after the fact, some I didn't tell him at all. Each time I tried to spare him, or maybe myself. I had trouble understanding what had happened and the abyss it left me in, and I didn't want Sean to have to feel it too. But I also worried he wouldn't feel it at all and that possibility hurt even more. I didn't really tell anyone else either, not sure if sharing would make it more real, or less real, so I swallowed my screams and chugged back up the next hill as best I could.

But this time, I was NOT alone in that cart. I could not hide my despair from the mirror who was glued to my side. And then, I knew I didn't have to. Every thing I felt he felt too. That made it easier and harder all at once. I didn't have to wonder if this was normal to feel so much pain. But I did have to see the heart break on the face of the one I love most. When we hit the bottom and embraced, it was the most beautiful intersection of pain and love I've ever known. And even though the abyss was still there, I had an anchor.

The momentum of life barely allowed us pause, and the push to move forward was persistent.  But we were resistant.  We did not want to leave that grief behind so quickly and easily. We resisted the pull of God, trying to draw us closer to Him. I saw Him on the next peak, and while I was grateful I could see there was another peak, I wanted Him to come down to my valley. I wasn't ready to move out of it yet. I still felt my insides had not yet come out of free fall, my heart had just landed with a thud and it felt 10lbs heavier. I still felt this hollow pit, but it was more than that, it felt vacant where just days before it had not. How that was possible I wasn't quite grasping. The physical vacancy was infinitesimal, but add to that the weight of love, joy, hope, anticipation, and I began to feel my expansive abyss was not only external but internal as well.

It is exhausting, resisting the forward momentum, masking the resistance. And the weight of two heavy hearts in that cart just made it seem so tiring to face chugging back up the next hill. The uplifting would have to be external. We finally realized that the least we could do was stop tiring ourselves out by pretending we're fine. When we did that, on that next peak God gathered those we reached out to and used their hands to start pulling that chain and lifting us up that hill. And once that was taken care of, He came down to the valley and shared in our grief.

It's been four days since I miscarried a 26 day old baby.  For 10 days I claimed my promise from God. For days I watched pro-life friends share the development of fetuses under a month old on Facebook, and I dared think of a tiny heart beat. For 6 days Sean and I began to hope enough to plan how we would get to share our joy with all of you. We revelled in this amazing 10 year anniversary gift for us. We were excited this child would get to share it's birth celebrations with it's daddy each year. We rejoiced we could share this experience with some of our best friends who announced their pregnancy only a month ago. We planned out a baby dedication that included every person who has prayed along side us for that day. Mostly, we just basked in caring for each other in a new way, sharing something indescribably special, just between us two. It's a lot to mourn.

We haven't always had people in our lives we could trust with the chain. They've spoken empty words leaving me/us more hurt than before we shared, we thought they might be uplifting but trusting the chain in their hands they let it go and we slid back into the valley. But it's different now, as we've stepped out in trust we've been blessed by such love and comfort from those God has placed in our lives. I wanted to share here too, knowing what blessing and healing has come from our vulnerability and willingness to share the bad as well as the good. And, we need more hands on the chain. I know those of you who read my blog have previously proven yourselves to be uplifting and so I trust you with this.  We're not quite out of the valley completely, your prayers are appreciated.

Raising Beautiful Daughters

I joined my husband on the last night of a summer Bible study he was attending on a night I'm usually busy, and I really enjoyed it, I really like the way this pastor teaches, and I love learning alongside my hubby.

There was one passage he used to support something else he was saying, and he emphasized this verse, Psalm 144: 12 - "Then our sons in their youth will be like well-nurtured plants, and our daughters will be like pillars carved to adorn a palace." And repeated for us women, look at what God says about your beauty, not society. But I felt like I was missing something, not quite sure I was supposed to value beauty like a pillar.

So today I did on study on it, looking up the verse in various translations on Biblegateway.com. Then I Googled the verse to see if anyone else had shared a study on the essence of this verse I was searching for.  Sure enough, I found it. And it was written by a father. It was so well written and fleshed out. It made me appreciate my own beauty and strength, and what it really means to God and should mean to me. I just had to save it here for 'one day', and figured, why not share :)

 

Things I Want My Children To Know Someday

I stopped this 'segment' on my blog a few years ago, you know, not wanting to think of the children I wasn't having. But, now that I've let myself believe that could happen again another one of these thoughts popped into my head a little while ago.

So here's my latest 'Things I Want My Children To Know Someday'

Each human being is a unique recipe of ingredients God assembled to create us. Iingredients He hand picked and blended until they were just the perfect balance of what He wanted us to become. We may have the exact same ingredients as someone else but never in the same quantities and combinations, meant to develop in a way no one else can.  Not everyone will appreciate our ingredients, but that's OK. Just like taste buds, everyone has different likes and dislikes, that's the result of our individual recipe.  We may not mix well with brussel sprouts and we may not mix well with chocolate (not THIS recipe! *points to self*). But there will always be ingredients we do mix well with, and they will enjoy our company, and we may even make something better together than we do apart.

Hope or Presumption

Awhile ago I wrote about 'expecting miracles' and how even though I know and have complete faith God is very capable of giving me a miracle child, I have had trouble expecting that for myself. I wasn't sure I should expect the miracle I wanted, so I expected a miracle in general.

Where do you draw the line between being hopeful and being presumptuous?

Like with healing, I know miraculous healings can and do still happen today, and I faithfully pray for those miracles when I pray for people who need healing. Yet I get this urge to always end that prayer in, 'but your will be done.'

As much as I believe miracles are completely possible, I also know that God has a perfect plan, and sometimes that perfect plan does not include miracles. Not the kind we are asking for anyway.

I think there is a different kind of miracle he does in those circumstances.  When all our plans and control fail, we naturally succumb to helplessness....and in that place we can surrender our heart, soul, mind and body to him, he fills the emptiness and heals the brokenness in his perfect way, and anything we thought we desperately wanted, we would gladly forfeit for that relationship we have now. This is the miracle I am content to have received.

Just look at the books of Jeremiah and Lamentations.  Even after a life of obedience that resulted in no external success, even at the end of writing a book all about lamenting his life he said he wouldn't change a thing because of his relationship with God.

YET. Jeremiah has one of the most hopeful verses in all of the Bible, used by many people, including myself, to give themselves/maintain hope. "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11.

I finally feel like I'm at a place where he knows I trust his plans completely, I know he has plans to give me hope, not harm. I would completely forfeit my dreams of children if he asked me to, because I want to have that perfect purpose he created me for....not my own. And I want to be in right relationship with him, by being obedient to his will for me.  Not that I expect that will be easy.  What I expect is that he'll continue to give me the miracle of peace in choosing him.

But.

I don't feel he's asked me to forfeit my own dreams yet. I only feel that way sometimes because of lack of 'results'. But I haven't yet discovered that dream doesn't walk hand-in-hand with my purpose.

And that is why I don't feel presumptuous believing that my miracle could still be mine one day.

So, for now, I am full of hope again.

And expecting miracles that look like children to call my own.

Chasing Heaven

There was a time the heaven I was chasing came in a teeny package, wrapped in soft, blush skin.  With unexpected twists and turns and destinations I was actually being led to begin chasing a much more real Heaven. How far I have come.....

I just had to share this post from my other blog, I wanted to share just how far God has brought me on this journey.