Healing the Fertile Heart

I decided to focus this post on healing (because Heaven knows that’s what we all need in life.)  As I’ve put material together for this concept I’ve realized that I personally have been going through the healing process for two major issues: mourning, and fertility of the heart.

It’s an interesting phrase “fertility of the heart” but I found a quotation on the subject so beautiful I had to share it:

“When God made woman, He made her to bring forth new life. Yes, He made her to birth children, but when God made woman, He made her heart fertile as well. It is in the heart of a woman that dreams and visions are born. It is in a woman’s heart that she makes plans for a future. I might dare say that the soft ground of a woman’s heart is the most fertile thing about her.”

“Hope After Miscarriage” -scissortailsilk.com

I have lots of thoughts from outside sources in this post, because I’ve read so many things lately that have really spoken to me.  I do need to read my scriptures more, but I am thankful to find peace in many sources of good reading in my life.  The concept presented in that beautiful paragraph of “fertility of the heart” resonated so strongly with me.  Not only am I mourning my losses; I am learning to heal and live even with the ache of infertility in my heart.  Infertility is not the only thing that hurts us; I read a blog post this week about the “ache.”  It was written by a woman who had three children and won’t be having any more.  She spoke of the ache that women have when they are done having children- whether it be for health reasons or even just menopause.  No matter how old you are, she said, it’s always sad and there is always an ache.  It seems our emotions truly were designed with a desire for children.  

It’s important to recognize the hurt so that we can begin to heal.  I read some wise words regarding healing that I wanted to share.  They are honest and to the point, and I think it’s important to remember that healing hurts so that we don’t feel discouraged going through the pain:

I have learned that healing hurts. Life hurts. Healing really only begins when we face the hurt in its full force and then grow through it with all the strength of our soul. For every reward of learning and growing, some degree of pain is always the price.

To begin healing, you must acknowledge and feel the hurt. Healing is active. It requires all the energy of your entire being. You have to be there, fully awake, aware, and participating when it happens.

When we have a terrible loss or pain, we may seek to “get back to normal” or to the way things were before, but they will never be the same. Pain changes us, but not in the same way that healing teaches us. Healing can help us to become more sensitive and more awake to life. Healing inspires repentance and obedience. Healing invites gifts of humility and faith. It opens our hearts to the profound complexities of truth, beauty, divinity, and grace.

“Learning the Healer’s Art” –Elaine Marshall

Can the concept of healing be put any more beautifully and accurately?  It has been on my mind recently that we can never use our own experiences to discredit anyone else’s pain, no matter how different the circumstances are.  We can only use our own experiences to help us mourn with those that mourn and try to aid them.  I don’t like when people do it to me, and so I’ve learned to watch my mouth in hopes that I don’t do it to anyone else.  Pain is pain, and the healing process is different for every person.  Discrediting their pain will not make ours subside at all, but helping others will heal us too.  

Sometimes our faith feels overshadowed by what our reality is around us.  Allow me to elaborate on why I felt like this recently.

In the past four months: I have lost a baby.  My fourth loss in a row.  My sister in law lost a baby. Three of my friends who are very dear to me lost babies.  For one of those friends, it was her second loss in a row.  One of my long time best friends almost lost her baby, but he survived with interventions.  A few months later they found out he has Spina Bifida.  She now has to travel several states away for an extremely specialized surgery while pregnant in hopes to give him the most normal life possible. A very close friend got a hold of me in the middle of the night, just recently, worried because she was bleeding early in her first trimester.  She was unsure if she would keep the baby through the night.  Especially because she miscarried her last baby (fortunately everything is fine now.) 

These are not just people I have met or stories I heard.  These are my friends and family.  The people closest to me.  When I hear of their heartache, my own despair sets in.  I stop believing in the idea of healthy babies- it just doesn't seem like a reality in my world sometimes.  I suppose it should make me comforted that I'm "not alone."  But losing children (or the hopes of future children) always feels lonely.  Because they are yours.  They aren't your friends' or even your family's children.  Not really.  They are yours.  No one is actually in the same circumstance as me, nor am I in the same circumstances as them.  However, what we do have in common is deep heartache and fear, and so, we need to learn to care for each other and find joy in our lives.  It still hits me hard though, every time I find out something else has happened to someone I am close to.  This past year has been unbelievable. How are any of us born alive? How are any of us born alive and HEALTHY??

I wish my faith was just a little stronger at times like this.  All the reminders trigger all of the horrible emotions I am fighting to get rid of.  There's only so much I can take before the skepticism and bad attitude sets in.  The bad attitude that causes bad reactions.  When someone tells you, "Didn't you hear that so-and-so just had a beautiful healthy baby?  5th child! And also the other-so-and-so, twins!" And you smile and nod but inside you just think "Yeah it's great to watch everyone else's dreams come true.  Thanks."  I know it's a bad attitude- I know it's full of fallacies.  It's ungrateful and narrow minded.  I know.  But it's still there. It doesn't really matter what circumstances are in your life- what matters is how you feel each day.  So when you feel miserable despite decent circumstances it makes it worse.  

Just when I was in the pit of despair, I had someone write me and tell me how much my experiences meant to them and that I had their full support.  Most of the letter was very personal.  It was spiritually reassuring to me.  In the letter, she said, “I just had this overwhelming feeling that I should tell you that you have support and prayers, that in your being open about your life you saved my friends life after she lost her baby.”  I felt so humbled.  I don't actually take credit for saving anyone's life, but I am so thankful to get some reassurance that I did in fact feel inspired to write this blog, and maybe in the long run, there are reasons for these trials after all.  Even in our heartache, helping others in any capacity we can will bring us peace.  I have learned so much by writing this blog.  I’ve learned about myself, and about the experiences of others who share.    

If I remembered more often how much Heavenly Father loves us, I think I would be happier.  As a teenager, I wrote in my journals probably an average of 2 hours a day.  It was really to the point of obsessive.  Yes, I got some good stories down, and yes I kind of want to burn them.  However, I really got comfortable with myself and my emotions, and I learned how to write about them freely.  I don’t want to overemphasize the importance or “far-reaching-effect” of this blog, but I feel that journaling may have been a big preparation for me to be able to write this blog- even if it was to connect with one person.  I've found people through it who have helped me, and I've been blessed to receive notice that my writings have helped some others too. 

It's not always easy to be open on the blog about the darker feelings and the sadness, and depression because every time I write about it, I feel like that part should be done already.  I feel like I should be stronger, and happier.  But I feel it is more important is to be honest.  Because if someone else is going through something and they need to know that it is ok, and normal.  That it’s going to be ok in the end, and it’s worth it.  If we can find strength in each other, it is worth it.  I'm sure not going to take all this time to document the things I have experienced just to sugar coat or tell white lies about how it really is.  I am trying to give an honest account.  I want to be honest with myself.  Honest for anyone who the blog may somehow, by the grace of God, be a help to.  It is difficult to watch the page view stats rise (almost to 3000 now!) and not feel judged in a bad way, but I put it out there because I feel that I'm called to do it.  I'm thankful for the healing I've found in it and the strength that writing with honesty has brought me. 

God does indeed have the power to save life.  So fundamental a concept- but seems "overruled" by what we feel is reality.  We read in the Bible of Christ raising the dead.  Surely, according to His will, He can save a little life inside my womb.  That is reality just as anything else is.

I do wish I felt excitement for life when I woke up in the morning, or at least jumped up for the chaos of the day.  Most of the time I feel very sad when I wake up in the mornings, and somewhat dread the day ahead of me. But I'm getting better, and I want to keep improving.  Jack is absolutely the light of my life.  My husband is a kind and loving support who I depend on 100% in my struggle.  I’m spending too much time feeling sorry for myself and feeling angry and discouraged when I should be focusing on how I can use this to improve my life, and more importantly, help other people.  Helping others heals so much of our hurt.  When we know we make a difference in the life of someone else, it feels like our own worries literally shrink away.  Why don’t I make more of an effort to really help someone’s wellbeing? 

What I’ve learned about healing is that helplessness is most painful of all.  It’s hard to give up control.  In some ways, I just wish there was some drastic treatment or experimental surgery I could do to try and save my babies.  It feels horrible to be totally helpless even when we know they aren’t growing properly and seemingly clueless as to how to help.  I just sit there and let the life die inside of me.  The thought of getting pregnant doesn’t sound exciting like it used to, because now it literally just sounds like death.  Sorrow.  Longing.  Mourning.  Never getting to name them.  Never experiencing the joy of holding your newborn.  Never introducing Jack as a big brother.  Four times those hopes have been crushed and the agony of even dreaming is too much anymore.  

Fortunately I sometimes glimpse what life is like without the bitterness.  The friend I mentioned earlier (who was bleeding) she’s not just a close friend, or even a best friend.  In almost every way she is my sister.  When I am continually trying to move on with my life, I deal with putting aside jealousy, bitterness, and depression every time I’m around a pregnancy at all.  Regardless of who that person is.  In that moment when she told me she was bleeding, every ounce of bitterness faded, and turned to anxiety and panic as if it were my own baby.  I couldn’t sleep.  I was praying for a miracle.  I would never wish recurrent miscarriage on anyone, but I especially don’t want my friends or family to suffer through it.  That baby is family to me.  Even though it hurts to wait on your own dreams, in the moment of worry I always want the dreams of others to come true.  That gives me some hope for myself.  Perhaps bitterness won’t overcome me after all.  I am so thankful that the baby is alive and everything is ok as of now.  I have a little picture of him or her on my phone- tiny with a new beating heart.  The child is a miracle and I plead for its life as I would plead for my own child.  I am learning empathy. 

We’re learning to make our goal of having another child a “long term goal” instead of a short term one.

I took another step forward this week.  My friend asked me if I could give most of Jack’s old clothes to her friend who was having twin boys (their first child was a girl so they were in need.)  Even though I don’t know this person, I didn’t feel the normal bitterness towards her.  I actually felt excited to help.  It’s been a secret heartache to have so many totes of infant items in storage.  It makes me sad to see them or move them.  I wonder if there is a point to hang on to all of it after all the losses we’ve had.  I decided to hold on to a handful of my favorites and clear out the rest.  Maybe I will be able to move on a little easier.  If we have another healthy baby in the future, our celebration will be so great that I don’t care if we had to buy all new things.  It wouldn’t matter at all.  This is an important step forward for me.  Helping others with excitement instead of hiding in my own pain.  I haven’t actually gone through the boxes yet so it may be harder than I know, but I will get through it and it will be healthy progress. 

“Do we dare hope for you, little one?
Do we dare dream of you, sweet baby?
Do we dare wish that we’ll hold you in our arms one day?
You are wanted.
You are loved.
And so we wait.
We wait and wish and pray.
Until you are ours someday.”

-Poem from “Souls on Ice”

One Month Later and Thoughts on Embryo Adoption

I wrote a post last year called "Contrast" and once again that is how my life has felt lately.  I have found enlightenment, understanding, and peace in some ways.  In other ways, I’m still in a very dark place as I continue to mourn and ride the emotional roller coaster that is post-pregnancy hormones combined with new birth control hormones.  I have found myself writing thoughts that are in very great contrast to one another throughout the week.  Sometimes I feel inspired, other times I feel hopeless.

I was talking to a friend about how I'm tired of feeling depressed because I have a good life but I feel trapped in my own head like I can't enjoy it anymore and that is so frustrating.   She told me lots of good things to remember but the one that stuck out most was "Just know that it's ok.  It's ok to feel the way you do, and it won't last."  It was just so nice to feel loved and validated with no judgment at all.  Honestly I've been kind of ashamed of myself that I can't get it together but just being told it was "ok" made a lot of difference for me.  Because I feel like I should expect more from myself.  Sometimes I feel like I'm just making excuses and that I’m too lazy to work on feeling happier.  But I guess sometimes life doesn't work like that.  Life is never going to be picture perfect, so I'd better learn to be happy in the mundane days and feel joy even in the hard times.  

Crying yourself to sleep night after night is really hard- hormones are ridiculous.  The worst part is I keep thinking if I'm more productive or if we do something fun during the day, that the sadness will go away.  But it doesn't.  We did four loads of laundry, which felt like a big accomplishment for someone exhausted with no motivation.  When it was all folded and put away, and I finished my school chapter, I sat down expecting to enjoy the night.  I deserved it after all.  I had been productive.  But I just cried instead.  And that hurt seemed to get stronger and stronger as I realized that getting back to normal life might not make the sadness go away.  It's like I'm watching my life through a curtain- I see all the good and happy things in it, but my mind won't let me out to experience the happiness and actually feel it.  I only observe it without really participating and it makes me feel like a prisoner to my own mind.  I don't know what to consider "recovery" from an event like this.  I hope that it would include energy and lack of headaches.  I hope the fatigue goes away, and I hope to find motivation to stay busy and laugh every day.

I think the hardest days I have are the days I try to figure it all out by myself.  Because when it comes down to it, the thought of us having another live birth doesn't seem very realistic.  That's where it hurts the most.  All I can do is count on a miracle for more children.  Whether that miracle will come through pregnancy or some type of adoption in the future we won't know until we get there- but either way it will be a miracle.  So the question I have to ask myself is "Do you trust Heavenly Father?"  If I trust Him, I trust that He has a loving plan for my family.  If Kevin and I having more children is in His plan, it will happen.  Simple as that.  I have to trust Him that things will work out how and when they are supposed to.  I'm not supposed to figure it out all alone, because I already know that doesn't work. I don't have the power to bring a baby into the world without divine intervention.  So I need to trust Him, trust that He loves us, have patience, and trust His plan for us if I want to be happy.

I think this miscarriage has been most devastating of all, and the most difficult to recover from.  After 4 times in a row we now realize how unlikely it is that our next pregnancy will result in a live birth, or the one after that, or the one after that.  With the other losses I always had the "hope for the next one" that I clung to fiercely.  Now I'm trying to learn to cope with a new reality, understanding that short of a miracle, that won't be the case.  That it may be many years before that dream is realized.  That we may end up doing IVF or other extreme procedures.  That we may end up adopting someday.  After you have your first child with no problem, it's quite a paradigm shift.  It's a scary and uncertain world we are going to be in. The world of infertility.  It's getting to the point where I am really accepting that I don't really know how many years it's going to be.  And acceptance is the first step- to healing, to a stronger faith, to patience, and to appreciating our great blessings.  I've felt like this trial has defined me for a long time- when I look at a picture of myself or a picture of me with my family all I see is the label "recurrent miscarriage" or "secondary infertility" and I'm really working to get past that right now- because my life is so much more than that, and,  I am so much more than that.  I'm learning to have faith and trust the spirit that our next child will come to us somehow, someday.  Our answer to those questions will be a peaceful reassuring feeling of love, and that's how we will know what to do.

Now that it’s been a month, it hurts much more in a way.  The world has already moved on- it’s not really "a thing" anymore.  Once the shock and drama wears off, here I am once again, empty.  Now that a month has passed it hits me all over again- that baby is gone.  Like it never happened.  The agony that reality brings is unbearable.  I cry hysterically and feel like a lost cause because I just don’t seem to be getting better this time.  I seem to be more angry, more heartbroken, and much more distant than I was before.  It’s a very lonely time, filled with self-loathing as you find yourself snapping at those who you care about more than anyone in the world.  I want to like myself enough to want to start exercising again.  To this point though, all I’ve found is extra weight and no motivation.  It’s just a spiral downward some nights, and others I climb back up a little, only to fall further the next night.  I’ve never been so torn between finding so much light and goodness, and finding so much sorrow and despair.  I want a more balanced life.  The hardest nights are when you’ve tried everything you know how and it still doesn’t touch the pain.  Talking, not talking, going out, staying  in, religion, distraction, whatever.  Yet, here you are in the middle of the night shaking from emotional pain.  Grief, loss, anger, self-loathing, depression, embarrassment even.  So I talk to my computer, and I write this blog, and for some reason, that is the only thing that takes the sting out of it for a little while. 

I feel like my life needs a big change, but I’m not sure what, or how to do it.  I’ve tried to work on my normal “goals”- more sleep, keep the house cleaner, eat better, more exercise, more scripture reading, less TV, do more activities with Jack, etc.  It’s just not really working because when I feel like this I don’t work hard enough on my goals.  You hear parents say all the time that their child is the light of their life.  I really mean that, especially now.  At the darker times in my life, Jack really does light up that sadness and brings me joy.  Kevin is amazingly patient and kind, trying to coach me through breathing in my hysterics so I don’t hyperventilate (as often at least) and all I can get out in words is “I’m so unhappy.”  I would go back and add to that “And I don’t know why.”  Because in my mess of emotions I really don’t know what I feel , aside from embarrassment.  I know I feel embarrassed when I have these breakdowns.   

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I still believe that one of our pregnancies will be amazingly normal and successful for no particular reason, just like Jack.  I hope that is faith showing through and not unrealistic expectations. I've learned something wonderful about family through all of this.  One of the reasons we have family is that it is bigger than ourselves.  When I am with my family, I can honestly laugh and have a real smile.  My pain goes away for a bit and I remember that I'm loved and part of something wonderful.

I want to take some time to write about a book I just finished.  

Souls on Ice- what a beautiful book.  I'm not sure if we would ever consider embryo adoption simply because we don't know if our embryo quality is the reason for our losses.  At this time it seems to have more to do with the environment my body creates- whether that be micro clotting in the placenta, poor attachment, thyroid issues, blood issues, etc.  Regardless, this book is a blessing.  It tells of amazing parents and their faith through heartbreak and their experiences of miracles.  It is so validating to read of the pain of these couples.  It pierces my heart because I really know how they feel as they describe their sorrow.  Sometimes it is infertility alone, and sometimes it comes with the sorrow of miscarriage after miscarriage.  It is comforting to know I'm not alone, yet I wonder why this is our trial.  I was always afraid of infertility, yet here it is.  I take joy in my beautiful boy and am thrilled and saddened simultaneously to think he has just started preschool.  I wish I had fully understood the magnitude of the miracle that was his birth.  But I know the miracle of his life now- so I won't waste more time mourning and wishing I could hold him again as a newborn and know how long it would be before that would be a possibility for me again.  To know I had the experience is a beautiful blessing and I pray with all sincerity for another chance at it someday.  And though I know that adoption/ embryo adoption are beautiful and wonderful ways to create a family, I am thankful to have a child that is our own- that he looks like his daddy and has my hair color (well, my natural one.)  Though it is not necessarily a better way to have a family, it is certainly a blessing from God.  Love makes a family- but I know now how blessed I am to have a biological child that I was able to have a normal vaginal delivery with.  I'm so thankful I will always have the experience with me. I still can't believe we have him.  He was born 6 weeks before our first anniversary.  How is it even possible?  My very first pregnancy and relatively no problems?  He is the definition of a miracle.   

A few more of my thoughts on embryo adoption.   The beauty of these stories overwhelms me.  As I read the experiences of these couples and stare at these pictures of beautiful, happy, breathing and thriving babies it is affirmed to me that life begins at conception.  The potential for human life lies within each embryo, and though we cannot control the outcome we should have the utmost respect and love for these two celled beings.  There is a sense of holiness about them.  These pictures of these children amaze me.  They were two cells frozen for up to ten years- but because their parents loved them before they were born- they gave them a chance at life.  Those specific children may not have existed otherwise- they may have been thrown away or donated to science.  But they were born, to families that they were meant to be a part of.  That affirms to me that God not only has a plan for each of us, His living children, but for each embryo that comes into existence.  He knows who we are, who we will be, and where we belong.  Though the heartbreak may span through years, if we trust Him we can see His miracles and His care for each tiny life.  He loves us so much.  I need to trust Him more that He sees the end from the beginning and that He knows how our children will come to us and who they are.  He knows how and when they will come.  More importantly, He knows the reasons why timing doesn't always work the way we expect it to.  There are reasons.  I have to believe there are reasons. 

The other observation I’ve had while reading these accounts of embryo adoption, is that of strong faith in infertile families.  It seemed every story revolved around a couple that was so dedicated to God that He was in every thought they had.  I feel like often, couples who have the strongest faith are chosen for this trial because without strong faith it would absolutely break you.  In a way, I feel as though I should feel privileged to have such a burden because it seems that God knows I can trust Him and find that faith within myself.  It’s like He’s saying “You can do this too- like these amazing faithful people you look up to.  I know you can do it.”  My hematologist once told me that God’s plan is never clearer to him than to see a faithful, able, and willing couple struggle to have a child.  He explained that there is so obviously a precise plan for the families in these situations. 

This book has been such a blessing to me.  It’s strengthened my faith and helped me feel the Spirit.  It has reminded me that God has a plan for us, and that He does provide miracles, even daily miracles.  I have felt so validated in my sorrow as I have read accounts of parents who have been through all kinds of different situations with similar heartache.  Embryo adoption is about finding love as a human family for each being, and taking care of our own.  We connect family to family and person to person, and through these kinds of trials we find love for each individual child of God.  I wonder what God would want more with frozen embryos whose biological parents can no longer, for whatever reason, give them a chance at life?  What else besides adoption could show as much reverence and love for these tiny beings at the very start of life?  The pictures of these little “snowflake babies” were some of the most beautiful pictures I’ve ever seen.  It is unbelievable.  From the outside it doesn’t seem like the most conventional way to have a baby, but God works in mysterious ways and can bring about His work in unbelievable, unimaginable ways.  All stories I’ve heard of adoption, whether it be domestic or embryo, had such key timing that the hand of God was very obvious.  I know that when we have another child that our love for them will be stronger because of our trials, and the miracle of their birth will be so clearly guided by heaven.  I already see my miracle son in a different way than I did last year.  I am so lucky to spend all my time with him, and to be able to raise such a sweet and talented person. 

When we ask whose child we are, genetically, or by adoptive birth mom, or whatever way you look at it, the answer really is God’s child.  Because of Christ’s atonement, He “adopted” all of us into His family.  However our families come together is beautiful and as we are sealed together we can be a family forever. 

I wanted to share part of the conclusion of the book by one of the authors:

“Miracles do happen.  Sometimes we stumble around, suffering and struggling, before we are able to let go of our plan and allow God to reveal His perfect plan for us.  His miracle…For us, the key was not to give up, but to surrender.  They are two very different things.  We never gave up our dream.  We never gave up trying.  We never gave up looking for answers.  But we had to surrender the details.  We had to surrender to God’s timing.  We had to surrender control…I’ll be honest.  Those feelings of despair, disappointment and brokenness, those didn’t heal immediately.  In those moments of grief, I’ve found it helps to pray.”

Well I’m not doing enough praying.  That’s where I need to start personally.  I have this picture hanging in my kitchen, and it acts as a daily reminder why I need to be strong and carry on with diligence:

    

What's In A Name?

I’ve had some people ask about the meaning of the name of my blog.   “My Heart’s Arias.”  Aria is a word you use a lot in the music world, it means, “an accompanied song for solo voice.”  I think of it as a “vocal monologue” usually with lots of emotion.  So “my heart’s arias” pretty much means “songs of my heart” but more accurately “emotional solos of my heart.” Haha.  I preferred that name because of the alliteration in the vowel sounds and thought it made it sound more poetic.  So there is that little story if you were wondering. 

My heart has some more songs to sing this week still.  It’s been almost a week since I got the implant in my arm (still horribly sore but healing well).  I wish I could say I feel relieved and ready to move on with life…but unfortunately that’s not how real life works. Occasionally, and really, more often than not, the "relief" of being "done with it for now" will subside and that heartbroken devastation will dominate for a time.  Maybe I just don’t give myself enough time to grieve, but why does it still hurt so bad?  Even with our “new plan” in place?  Like I can’t even see through it.  I have to remind myself of a saying that brings me a lot of peace, “It hurts because it matters.”  It’s supposed to hurt.  That’s ok.  It’s no fun to feel sad and heartbroken month after month but somehow I have to learn to deal with it.  Our first loss was in 2012, so in the world of infertility which spans years and years, we may just be getting started.  I’ve got to learn to deal with this part of my life- the mourning and the sadness and even jealousy, other than just looking forward to the future.  Simply because I don’t want to feel like this for the next five years, or even five days really.  It hurts because it matters.

When you get desperate- you learn submission.  Like a small child.  Maybe I'm stubborn enough that I wouldn't really learn submission any other way.  I feel like the most desperate and heartbreaking days I've felt have brought real and full submission in my prayers. It gets to the point where I just want to do the right thing so I can just have some relief.  If I do the right things maybe I’ll have some peace.  “The future is as bright as your faith.”  I wish my faith was too bright to look at.  Currently, it needs some help.  I haven’t given up on it though, and that’s better than nothing.  Sometimes you just need someone to tell you that there is hope.  I need to hear it and have people share that with me so I feel like it’s a real thing.  Having jack seems like a different universe…like a good dream more than a memory.  It is so strange to me now that we had a child.

The thing about feeling depressed is that there is no particular cause or reason necessarily.  Yes, I’m sad about the baby.  I’m devastated about our “infertility” but the mourning of those things come in moments and then you push through them.  This doesn’t feel like that.  It's just like a cloud over everything.  I wake up with headaches, the hours of the day go by slowly and I look at what I need to do and mostly have no desire or energy to do it.  I feel sad for no reason and feel exhausted even though I sleep.  Being tired leads me to eat crappy junk food- which makes me feel worse and more tired, and fat.  I feel worse that I'm not exercising because of said lack of energy, so I eat more food because "what's the use."  Then I look around at how non-productive I have been and feel even more depressed and worthless and it starts all over.  I look at things that used to excite me or motivate/energize me and just think "I don't care."  It's hard to deal with this.  I hope I can figure it out.  I'll be motivated for like a day, then my goals (even the tiny ones) feel so overwhelming that I feel like "it's no use" and life is never going to change.  I would describe the feeling as "numbing."  I find myself watching stupid movies on netflix that I'm not even interested in and don't like- because I just don't want to deal with my life, even though it's not a bad life.  That doesn't feel like me.  I know in my mind that I have a great life, I’m not sure why I can’t line up that gratitude with my emotions.  I shouldn’t feel so sad.  Sometimes I find myself avoiding eye contact with people around me because I just don't want to talk or interact at all.  That doesn't feel like me.  My spiritual life feels "dimmed."   Like if I go through the motions of prayer and scripture reading it kind of feels half-hearted and I really want to get past that.  It does help with being baby hungry though- because if I can't take care of myself, I won't take care of Jack as well as I could, and certainly not him plus another child.  In the very first verse of the Book of Mormon, Nephi says “…and having seen many afflictions in the course of my days, nevertheless, having been highly favored of the Lord in all my days…”  That’s really how it works isn’t it?  Those who are highly favored of the Lord have also seen many afflictions.  Still though, the harder the trial, the greater the blessings in the end.  They go hand in hand.  I was glad to have that reminder.  

  

Speaking of names today...  Small symbols in my life cause me to ponder.  Usually they bring me some peace.  I was thinking about Jack’s name.  I’ve written before how we named him Jack because it means “God is gracious.”  We knew that Jack was a miracle as the doctors were somewhat amazed that he was “just fine” and that we never had a loss before him.  We didn’t know how much of a miracle he was or how gracious God had been.  His middle name though, we struggled on for a little while.  It wasn’t until the name “Hyrum” came to my mind that I felt settled.  I knew that I wanted his middle name to be Hyrum after Hyrum Smith, brother to the prophet Joseph Smith.  Few places in history will you find a more loving, devoted brother.  As Jack was our first child, I knew he would be the older brother to all our future children and couldn’t think of a better example to name him after.  It strikes me now as I wonder when/if we will have more children for Jack to be an older brother to that I felt so strongly to name him Jack Hyrum.  It strengthens my faith to remember how sure I was a few years ago that we would have more children.  I wish I still had that assurity.  I know my son though, and even at two years old, I’m already sure he will be a great leader, friend, and brother to many people.  Even if they aren’t his biological siblings.    

I want to end my post with a story of love and hope.  I met a woman, through the internet, who I’ve become close to about these matters.  She and her husband have struggled through the years with unexplained infertility, failed adoptions, and two miscarriages.  They’ve been through fertility treatments, IVF, domestic infant adoption, embryo adoption, you name it, and still have suffered two losses.  We had connected shortly before we both found out we were expecting.  I think we were only a single day apart in our cycles.  During my waits at the hospital I would message her to help my nerves.  She was a calming and supportive influence for me through the pregnancy and one of the first people I told when my numbers came back low and we knew we would lose the baby.  She is a sister in this heartache and a blessing in my life.  Unfortunately, they lost their baby just a few weeks after our loss.  If you would like to follow her blog, it’s http://www.wheresbabymiller.com/.  God is good.  It is so important to remember that.  Here I was feeling like this woman who I've never met in person was helping me so much and being a healing influence.  She was someone I could talk to who had even a slight clue as to what I was feeling, and somehow the Lord blessed her through my experiences to help her prepare for what was in store for them also with the loss of their pregnancy.  She explained that through our conversations she was able to prepare for the “missed miscarriage” that they were faced with.  I would have had the same thing happen on my ultra sound had we not done blood work every other day to warn us beforehand.

The tender mercy is not only that the Lord can bring together His children that need each other (who live in different states and had no reason to meet)- the mercy is that He also lets us recognize the blessing as a reminder of how much He loves us.  All of us.  He hasn't forgotten us in our moment of need or time of pain.  He believes in our strength to carry on with love and faith.

Pondering

Well it is a new year, and this last week has brought me time to ponder on so many different things in my life.  I’m starting to understand that happiness doesn’t just come with certain circumstances, but happiness comes through our actions and our satisfaction in the way we are living our life- despite what may be "in the cards" for us.  I’ve started to think more about who I want to be instead of what I want to do or how I want to build my life.  Granted, what you do says a lot about who you are, but I’m focusing more on how I want to do it.  I want to handle situations gracefully and have joy in my circumstances.  The “come what may and love it” attitude.  I have a richly blessed life, and through the pain of difficult times it takes self-control to focus on all those good things around you and not to let sorrow drown them out.  “You do not find the happy life.  You make it.”

I had some dark days since the last time I wrote- I felt like I just didn’t have it “together” and some days I didn’t even try to.  I started experiencing panic attacks.  Suddenly I would get dizzy and my vision would blur.  My fingers would tingle and I felt so overwhelmed I thought my brain would shut down completely.  I would start hyperventilating and things stopped making sense.  I would sit on the floor and rock back and forth and sob and shake and thought I was only a second away from destruction the grief and depression was so strong.  My sweet husband would sit there with me and wait for me to say something, but most of the time I couldn’t.  I had to take drugs to help me sleep.  It became clear to me that time is essential for us right now.  If I continue to go through this every few months I won’t have any resemblance of a normal life.  Though I would go through it if I felt like it was right.  But so clearly, it is time for us to be done with this part for a while.

Though we have had wonderful and amazing support, it feels that some people expect you to go back to normal life faster this time around, because it seems I would be "used to it" after 4 times- but they don't know the nightly anguish.  They don’t seem to understand that each loss gets more painful, not less. The loss feels more crushing and hope subsides with each subsequent miscarriage.  I can't think about it for more than a few seconds, because if I don't push the thoughts away I really feel like I'm suffocating from the pain.  My chest tighens and I feel like I can't breathe.  It hurts to lose some of that faith you had.  We were so looking forward to a miracle- but after 4 times of hoping, that light feels pretty burnt out.  We feel so tired.   

I used to feel embarrassed about the emotional depth I have- how I feel everything so deeply and wear my heart on my sleeve.  How I analyze everything and how my heart feels caught in even small details.  Now, I am learning to love this about myself.  I think that it allows me to love deeper and feel joy more fully.  I think it is in that part of me that the musician is found, and why a piece of music can change my life because of what I feel when I hear it.  Being an emotional person can be a blessing if you learn how to handle it.

That pain does not go away.  Just last night I had a waiter ask how old our son is and start asking if we wanted another child, and talking about how it feels to hold a newborn in your arms.  In some ways, I feel that I do have more than one child, but they are not here with me at this time.  Nothing is lost to the Lord.  But despite painful encounters such as that-we deal with it, we move on with courage, and love and faith, and that's what makes us moms and dads.  We love even those babies we don't get to meet.  I loved them so much right from the very start.

My sweet sister in law gave me a beautiful picture for Christmas, one that I keep next to my bed now and it brings me comfort in times of grief. 

When I hurt I can remember that I held them each second of their lives.  The flowers in the pictures are called forget-me-nots.  I will never forget the loss of life we have experienced.  This picture has a two fold meaning to me when I see it.  God does not forget me either.  I am His child, and He has carried me every second of my life, whether I have acknowledged Him or not.  When I truly realize how much God loves me, the pain is swallowed up with gratitude and love for my Savior and the realization that this is just temporary and the sorrow will not last forever.  I did my job.  I carried those little lives as diligently and faithfully as I could, and that work is finished at this time.  Though it hurts, we trust that God’s ways are higher than our own, and that He does have it all figured out.  I saw an ornament this Christmas that spoke peace to my soul once again.  "Because someone we love is in heaven, there is a little bit of heaven in our home."  I want to live worthily of every blessing God intends to give us in His own timing.  I believe we will have more children and I believe in honoring the part of our family that is with God now.   I want to allow that knowledge to influence and bless our home with the Spirit.    

It is a struggle to feel we don’t have options with our regular doctors at this point.  There can always be more consultations, but there don’t seem to be many more answers within those appointments at this time.  Our next step, as I’ve written before, will be at a fertility clinic.  Financially we aren’t able to afford treatment at this time, but moreso than that I don’t think we have the emotionally reserve left to handle it this year.  I believe we will need some time to build our strength, our finances, and learn to find joy in the journey.  We will try again someday, and we are blessed enough to have many other things to focus on this year to try and better our lives.  Sometimes I feel guilty for putting the “baby dream” on hold, but it is a choice that has been handed to us and I am trying to accept it gracefully and with a smile and hope for tomorrow.  I believe that God understands the chemistry of my body down to the last detail and in a way that medicine will never understand.  After we do all we can do, He absolutely can fix the problem according to His will and timing.  We will do our best to study and learn and sacrifice, and leave the rest to Him with as much faith as we can find in ourselves.  Mary was a virgin after all, and she had a baby because it was His will.  Nothing is impossible for a loving Heavenly Father.  I feel so blessed to have the son I have and appreciate this time that I will have to spend one on one with him as we learn patience and hope for the future.

Just when I had my mind made up about getting the implant which can last up to three years (we plan to leave it for at least a year) and was getting settled- regrets and worries haunted me all last weekend.  Should I not even call the clinic to see what it would cost for a consult?  Am i going to regret this?  I was starting to worry about the quality of our embryos.  Maybe there is something wrong with the sperm or the egg.  Jack was just perfect somehow.  Maybe I have that problem they call "super fertility" where you get pregnant even with embryos that your body would normally reject because of a problem.  This may be a possibility because I always get pregnant the very first month we try, when it takes most people at least a few months.  I emailed the clinic and called and waited for them to get back to me.  As I continued to wait and not hear back from them, I was reassured that it was not the right time to pursue this course of action and I could leave it be for now.  Trying to figure out “what is wrong” is too overwhelming right now.  It would take over my whole life. 

I was talking to my bishop about how I worry sometimes that we don't know if we are making the right decisions even though we are trying to do what God wants us to.  He reminded us that in a covenant marriage if we are doing the best we can and are united in a decision for our family, it will be the right decision for us at that time.  I felt a lot of peace in that.  If Kevin and I are unified- it will be the right choice. Sometimes I still feel like “this sucks because all we want right now is a baby.”  But I can’t afford to think like that anymore- I have to focus on other good things we want in life right now and can work towards.

Sitting in the office waiting for the implant wasn’t easy.  I was alone on the table for over an hour because the doctor was running behind.  I felt so small.  So sad.  I felt like I was giving up on a dream.  But really, I was giving it to the Lord to hold onto for me for a while.  This was an important step for me- to accept God's will enough to take a step forward in waiting to have more children.  I don't think it is His will for me to suffer loss after loss every few months, so much as hope for a miracle once or maybe twice a year- this will give us time to heal and time to discover.  I think He knows I won't give up on it.  Perhaps this trial will lead us down a different path we wouldn’t have put ourselves on.

The procedure itself wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever gone through- but it was icky.  I was extremely nervous since I’ve had procedures where the numbing didn’t take well (more than once…it’s horrifying) so they gave me some valium in advance to help me stay calm.  The numbing shots hurt a lot, and since my body is “sensitive to this kind of attack” as my doctor put it, I had a vasovagal response (basically the world started spinning and I started sweating and trying to throw up).  It was nerve racking but luckily I didn’t feel the big scary needle go in (they gave me a little extra numbing medicine just in case).  I felt dizzy and sick for a while, and it’s been a sore couple of days, but I am glad it’s a done deal now!  No more blood tests every 48 hours (my arms are grateful).  No more yucky stuff until I have to get the implant cut out, which I am expecting will be worse than getting it in since it involves cutting.  Lovely.   

See the soreness factor?  Just in case anyone was considering one. Haha.  I think it's worth it though- especially if a couple was planning to wait three years.

I actually am really excited about the New Year.  Hopefully we will be heading to doctorate school.  Since we are taking a break from trying for a baby for the year, I hope I'll be able to have a little more peace in my life until we feel ready to try for a miracle again- and maybe look into fertility treatment.  I'm excited to try and focus on some other things.  I know a lot of people say this at the start of a new year, but I really do want to lose some weight.  This hormonal and emotional roller-coaster my body has been on for the last year and a half has found me almost 30 extra pounds- and that has never happened to me before. I don't recognize myself in the mirror and I am very self-conscious about it.  I want to feel better and healthier and be proud of how I look.  I hope I can find something that works for me, and I'm sure that will help me avoid depression.  All the loss has made me appreciate more what I have- so perhaps the break from trying will help me to focus on taking better care of what I do have (including myself) instead of focusing so much on what I don't that it takes over my life.  Here's to a wonderful and exciting new year!