In The Quiet Heart

“Even if you have the strongest faith, God will not always reward you immediately according to your desires. Rather, He will respond a piece at a time with what in His eternal plan is best for you. Your continuing exercise of faith will forge strength of character available to you in times of critical need. Such character is not developed in moments of great challenge or temptation. That is when it is used”.

 –Richard G Scott

These past two months have been a journey for me from the darker feelings of depression, to looking for light and feeling the beginning of hope take root again.  Not just hope for a baby someday, but hope to be happy.  Hope to have a great life despite any medical problems or circumstances. 

In a popular hymn in my church, there is a powerful line written: In the quiet heart is hidden sorrow that the eye can’t see.

That is how I felt at the start of this process, almost two months ago.  I felt like I needed to be outwardly positive and energetic and that enough time has passed for me to be “normal” again, but I felt anything but normal.  This is what I wrote about it at the time:

“I’ve been hurting a lot this past week.  A lot of deep, dark, out-of-the-blue heartbreak and pain.  I wish it would give me a little break and let me feel peace for more than a day at a time.  This blog is therapy for me, but I know I need to pray more often for peace.  If I can’t find balance doing those things I may even look into getting some help professionally because I’m really struggling.  I know life has ups and downs and I am praying for an “up” soon because I feel like I am just about at my breaking point.  God pushes us to make us stronger, but I am praying for release and relief.  I am craving some sort of answer and something to bring me more happiness, even if that answer is the strength to focus more diligently and happily on some endeavor I currently have in my life.  I’ve learned to trust in the Lord’s timing but I just can’t seem to fill my time the way I think He wants me to, because I’m so sad All. The. Time.  I don’t think medication is the answer for me.  I think it’s prayer, exercise, eating healthy, working and studying hard, having fun with my family, counting my blessings, and maybe the occasional romantic date with my husband.  But all those things are hard to get into when you feel so sad.  I have no effort or energy.  My attitude is lacking.  I need a jumpstart Lord, just a jumpstart please.”

I think part of my pain was coming from anger.  Not an overwhelming amount of anger, but just bits that have been collecting inside of me as we’ve been dealing with all of this.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel that I have been mistreated and I have been very fortunate to have kind and loving people surround me.  It comes from misunderstanding, and haven’t we all felt misunderstood at times?  So when I wrote the following paragraph, it was not intended as a message of ingratitude or hurt feelings, but just of truth.  Excuse the rant format that the writing took on, but that’s what I needed at the time.

“One of the first things people ask me when they heard I've lost another pregnancy "how far along were you."  I know they are curious, and I know that I open the door by sharing information, but does it REALLY MATTER?  Does it somehow dull the pain to be "only" so far?  I'm thankful I've never had to deliver a stillborn child, and that if the life had to end my body was able to take care of it on its own, but the pain of loss is still there.  Pain is not measured in week's gestation.  A dream and a child is lost.  A life that was growing has stopped.  That's enough.

Cliche answers hurt.  I believe in reaching out to Christ in hard times.  But all it sounds like is "Reach up to God because it's really not that bad.  It's in your head- this is hard for you.  It will pass. Have more faith and you wouldn't be so sad.  Get some perspective and then it won't seem so bad."  But guess what- IT IS BAD.  It's horrible and heart wrenching and lonely.  People offer advice as if you are choosing to be unhappy and are worse because of it.  Almost as if you are weak, or a sinner because of it.  Sure, I try to be happy but grief doesn't always work that way! Some nights it really hurts! Literally pains you and you can't just put a smile on your face and move on.  Your heart is broken.  Sometimes you have to just sit and breathe and endure the searing pain.  You try to endure the hurt bravely and that is as close to happy as you get.  The overwhelming vibe I get from others is “get over it quickly” even if they don’t intend to send that vibe.  Support is not spitting out cliche sayings about "there are worse things" or "at least this or that didn't happen..."  Yes, those things may be true, but belittling someone's hurt does nothing but hurt more and causes the one hurting to put more blame on themselves.  They think "I shouldn't feel this way."  Support is saying I'm sorry for your loss. I love you.  God loves you. It hurts because it matters.  I believe in you.  Real support doesn't glamorize the future or disregard the past.  True pain deserves true sympathy and love.  Not a holier-than-thou attitude because people that think they've got it figured out though they have never been through it- they don't.  This is true for many obstacles in life.  Next time someone is hurting, give them what they need- don't discredit their pain and preach to them.”

The Lord does give us jumpstarts, or as I usually call them, tender mercies.  He has helped me through this hurt.  The first mercy that I found was validation, through a blog post called “Why Miscarriage Matters When You’re Pro-Life” that resonated my exact feelings.  I was so appreciative for the wording and honesty of the blog.  It soothed my soul and I felt less alone in my pain.  I would like to share a section of the post.  It can be found at: http://thelewisnote.blogspot.com/2014/02/why-miscarriage-matters-if-youre-pro.html

“In this Christian microcosm of ours, somehow an aborted baby had so much more to offer the world than a miscarried one.

Both babies may have died at the same gestation -- one by choice, the other by chance. But the value attached to each child completely depended on how that child died. 

Here are some of the mixed messages I received -- sometimes just hinted at, other times outright:

An aborted baby deserves to be grieved. A miscarried one deserves to be gotten over. And quickly.

An aborted baby could have been the next Einstein or Bach or Mother Theresa. A miscarried baby was probably damaged goods.

An aborted baby was a real person, and should have the rights as such. A miscarried baby was not a real child -- naming them really is kinda weird. Speaking of weird . . . counting them in the line-up of your children? THAT'S weird!

An aborted baby should always be missed in this world. God had created them for a purpose, no matter what health issues they may have had. A miscarried baby was meant for heaven -- and we moms should just be so thankful we have a baby in heaven, and should not grieve the loss of their place on earth. After all, they never TRULY had a place on earth, did they?

An aborted baby is a tragedy. A miscarried baby is slight bump on the road of life.

An aborted baby could never be replaced. A miscarried baby can always be replaced -- "Oh, don't worry, hon -- your time will come again. You'll have more. Just relax and trust God. You'll see."

An aborted baby's mom should know exactly what she's missing out on if she has living children. A miscarried baby's mom should not grieve that loss, but instead, should just be thankful for the lives of her living children.

This isn't a debate about abortion. Really, it's not. 

It's a call to those of you who say you are pro-life. It's a call to be consistent. 

Do you really believe life -- personhood -- begins at conception? If so, standing up against abortion is understandable. But so is treating a miscarriage as a real death of a real person.

What if you didn't try to stifle her tears? What if you welcomed them? And matched her tears with your own?

What if you held back any trite, easy answers that promised God's will and promised easy comfort? What if you just wrapped your arms around her the way Christ would?

What if you made that meal, bought those flowers and wrote that card?

What if you went to the hospital and sat in the waiting room for her, even if you wouldn't see her? Just because she is your friend. Just because that's what you do when someone is sick in the hospital or their child is dying.

What if you called her child by name?

What if you went to the service if they planned one? What if you helped her find a support group? What if you offered to go with her?

What if you prayed constantly for that hole in her heart that will one day scab, one day scar, but will never fully heal? 

What if you were consistent? What if all your actions when dealing with loss of any kind, affirmed that fact that all life -- ALL LIFE -- is good, worthy of recognition and worthy of grief.

What if you didn't just affirm to the world that all babies are valuable -- but you also affirmed to a bereaved mom that HER baby was irreplaceable, and would forever be missed?

A person is a person . . . no matter how small.

And I would add . . . no matter when or how they died.”

That blog was so comforting to me.  It was hard to admit it to myself, but I think one of my difficulties with mourning was the question of what we consider life.  We are bombarded with messages that tell us that the beginnings of life are meaningless.  We often hear the term “ball of cells” etc.  I never felt that way when I was pregnant- especially feeling the overwhelming amount of love right from the start for this little life.  Not just the idea, but love for the actual little life that had just started to grow.  That one, specifically.  But I would get moments of fear where I had the thought I was being ridiculous for mourning when perhaps there was no life at all.  Perhaps I was fooling myself.  People would have taken me more serious if the losses were at 17 weeks instead of before 6 weeks, before we even see a heartbeat.  But then I look at the chart of the HCG rising before it plummeted, and I think of the changes I felt within me, and the sudden stop of symptoms and the physical pains I felt when the life was lost.  Though it was early and short, life is life.  It is not just the potential for life when it is already growing.  I’ve been told by people before “Oh that must be hard to have multiple miscarriages because you must get so excited thinking you’ll have a baby and then are disappointed.”  Well, it’s more than that.  It’s not like I thought I might be pregnant and then wasn’t.  I was.  There was life.  And then it was gone.  That is a loss; and much more than a loss of excitement. 

I experienced another tender mercy not too long after reading the blog post.  I had seen this picture many times before, but the next time my eyes fell on it, it felt like my heart stopped and it spoke to me.  I love how God can speak to us through art.  He can speak to us through any means that work for us, but art and music are particularly emotional and tender mediums for me and I am thankful that He helps me find peace through them.  I believe the picture is a portrayal of Mary teaching young Jesus to pray; he is perhaps 2 or 3 years old in the painting.  I love the oil lamp giving light to the scene- which seems to symbolize putting “oil in our lamps” and growing in the gospel, as we learn about in the parable of the Ten Virgins in the Bible.  When I saw the picture, my heart saw myself in the painting, in a more humble state.  I saw myself as a mother who understood her essential role in the life of a very important and special child.  I was focused on my role and my blessings, and dedicated all my effort to them instead of wallowing in the pains of life.  It was such a beautiful moment.  I saw how I wanted to be.   I felt overwhelming love for Jack.  He is my boy and truly my life’s work.  I want him to grow up with a mother who is happy.  I don’t want poison to suddenly well up inside me and take over.  I want to be in control.  Every time I see this piece of art now, I remember that feeling and it is a source of strength.  Kevin has told me that he will take care of finding the painting for our house so I look forward to the time where he will surprise me with it.  It’s not the easiest one to find. 

I think it’s times like these that we truly come to acknowledge our need for the Savior.  It hurts me to look at a picture from myself a few years ago and see a totally different person.  Someone who was happy and energetic and determined even in hard times.  I feel like I was a much higher caliber person then.  I don’t always feel a drive to life these days and honestly, sometimes I don’t try very hard.  It hurts me to say that, especially in my prayers, but I have to trust that Heavenly Father loves me even when I don’t try my best.  

Maybe I don’t try my best in my outward doings every day, but I have an emotional battle raging inside of me and I am fighting just to tame those demons and still have a good outlook on the world.  I have never dealt with pain of this intensity.  I’m new at it, maybe I’m not very good at it yet.  But I want to recognize myself again.  I want to work hard again, with energy and diligence.  Hopefully the desire is enough to God to love me in spite of me, and send angels to help me through the laziness of depression and find life in my life again.  I don’t want to miss a moment with Jack or Kevin.  I want to feel a fullness of love even in hard times.  I think the best place to start feeling that love is with the love Heavenly Father has for us.  It’s perfect and something I don’t understand.  It’s flawless even when bombarded with our earthly faults.  Sometimes all I can pray for is “show me your love today please” and when I can feel the spirit- my energy and drive picks up.  My life gets better.  I hope I can make habits out of the little moments I find bursts of passion to do better.  All those little moments will eventually come together to make me the woman I want to be.  Not the one I used to be, because she hadn’t been through all of what I am trying to understand now, but a better version of myself.  I’m somewhat ashamed of the step I am in now but I want to keep trying so that I don’t stay this way.  I want to start praying for others more.  I know that will help.  I try not to make too many more goals because I am already overwhelmed with my long term goals, and just the basic goals of that day.  But mostly, my goals now boil down to better, more honest prayer.  I believe that will direct everything else I need to do, one step at a time as I can handle it. 

I don’t get upset at people for talking about their pregnancies or babies (how could I…seriously) it just makes me miss my babies I’ve never met.  That’s where the pain comes from.  It makes me remember my inability to deliver them safely, and it sometimes makes me feel like less of a woman than the mother-to-be I’m speaking with.  That is a deep and personal pain in the quiet heart.  That's where I have to turn to God for help.  

I continued to work through the weeks and find hope in little things in our life.  I focused my time on trying to help Kevin figure out if doctorate school is in the picture this year, we started looking at places to move, and he got a new job.  And seemingly out of nowhere, my sister was in labor and just a few hours later a beautiful little girl joined our family. 

I was so overwhelmed and excited/nervous to go meet a newborn member of my family in the hospital that I cried three or four times during the day.  I just didn’t know how I was going to react.  I wasn’t sure if it would be beautiful and peaceful, or extremely painful.  I knew I was excited to meet her and for her to be part of our family, and that’s why I needed to go as soon as I could.

When I think of my babies who were never born, the heartache starts in the core and then it feels like the blood runs out of my fingers and toes.  I think it’s the same for whenever you miss someone so much that it hurts.  Since the day I found out that my sister was pregnant, I knew it would be a difficult balance for me between joy and pain.  It was.  She has had some health problems in the past, so at one point we weren’t sure if she would be able to have more children, but this pregnancy was perfect.  I am so happy for them, but it was hard to lose a buddy who was “in the same boat” as me, being baby hungry and having to wait.  I knew that the day of the birth could go many different ways.  I prayed I would be able to handle it with grace and not run screaming from the hospital and have a total breakdown.

I felt emotionally displaced all day as she went through labor, and as I waited to go visit the baby once she was born.  I think I was afraid that as I held this baby, just a few hours old, that I would see the faces of my four lost babies and it would be too painful to handle.  But I didn’t see my babies who I didn’t meet.  I just saw Sydney.  She was beautiful.  She looked just like her brother and sister, and felt like my niece.  Holding her I knew she belonged right where she was in our family.  It was a blessing to feel more peace and happiness than pain.  The only difficult part was choking down tears was when my husband was holding her.  He looked so happy and was talking to sweetly to her.  I wish I could give him that joy for us again.  I was hoping that as I held the baby I would feel the Spirit tell me just to be patient and that our time would come, or feel confirmation that someday we will be blessed with another child.  I didn’t feel any of those promptings or whispers, but I guess you can’t force promptings.  I’m just happy that it went so much better than it could have.  I’m proud of myself for crying it all out before I went so I could enjoy my new niece and not let my joy be stolen by this trial we deal with .  It’s not our time now.  I hope it is in the plan someday.  I know that I will be blessed with a greater love and appreciation for my next child than I could have ever imagined possible before going through these losses.  I’m thankful for the joy Sydney has brought to our family, and for the grace and patience my family has shown me as I’ve processed my emotions and gone through all my different phases.  I’m learning how to deal with grief and hopefully learning how to be patient. 

One week and one day after Sydney’s birth, Kevin’s sister gave birth to a little girl and my little niece Emma joined our family as well.  I was sad not to meet her in person, but thankful to not have to go through the rollercoaster of being in the maternity ward twice in one week. I'm glad to have another beautiful spirit in my family.  

I’ve been looking for the good things every day.  It’s amazing how much little things that make you smile can light up your whole day, and eventually your life- if you let them. 

I love the icon that appears on the homepage of my school account when I log in to do my transcriptions (which the professors understand can be frustrating).  It’s a picture of a cloud burst with the overlay saying “Every day is a fresh start.”  If I remembered that more often perhaps I would loom in gloom for such long stretches.  Even putting this post together now I can see some of the progress I’ve made.  Only a few weeks after the rant and discussion about feeling so depressed, I wrote this:

“I’ve had more good days lately- that is a big step for me!  I’m putting more effort into reading scriptures, doing homework, and even exercise.  I’m trying to keep my house cleaner and think of how I can help others.  It’s not easy or perfect, but I know that if I do my best during the day, I feel much better about myself at night.  That spirals to help me wake up happier and more motivated.  I’ve been stuck in a depression slump for too long.  I know that when my house is (mostly) clean, it helps a lot.  I’m trying to keep it clean enough that it is manageable and quick to tidy up before it gets out of control.  I hope I can keep it up.  Now that Kevin has finished his online class we have less stress in our home at night.  We are still in limbo with work, school, money, and moving so there is still plenty of stress but we’re trying to deal with it well.  Plus parenting a two year old is hard- sometimes we want to deal with tantrums in different ways and it can bring my blood pressure up, but we do our best. I wish I could somehow finish my reports faster, but I literally have over a thousand left and have to finish by the start of June.  No big if I wasn’t mom all day and running the household.  I know I could try harder.  It’s difficult nonetheless.  I’m pretty sure I will have to purchase an extension instead of finishing faster and making money.  I’m kind of upset with myself for that, but I can only give myself to so many directions at once." 

Service is too often in my mind a project or favor for someone outside my own family.  I've realized though, that service is so alive in our own home too.  Doing the dishes and making dinner to try and help smooth the chaos over- washing someone’s load of laundry, and trying to hurry to finish so I can sort clothes to donate- that’s what the Lord wants of us.  To be actively engaged in a good cause to help people around us within our day-to-day activities and chores.  Sometimes I feel like I'm “wasting time" on these mundane tasks, because the night gets away from me, but now I've realized this is how I should be spending my time, and I feel a lot better.  This is what it’s really all about.  Small and simple things in our home bring about great things.

I’m starting to appreciate the little moments of reminiscing more, and finding them less painful.  It was hard going through all of Jack’s baby clothes (I was able to donate most of them to a woman who just had twin boys) and in fact, we just sold most of his infant furniture.  That was important to me, and a step to accepting that our life is currently going in a different direction.  I was finally able to smile and remember those good times and just take a breath and remember that’s not where we are right now.  It's still sad for any mom though, to find newborn clothes when her baby is big!

I was blessed to be able to go home to North Carolina for three weeks and try to give my mind some fresh air.  We took a little vacation down to Florida for a week, and then I spent two more weeks at my mom’s house. The vacation was one of those times where I felt thankful for the “freedoms” I enjoy with an only child, even though I would not have chosen for it to be this way.  The chaos of one child in an amusement park was enough for me.  But it was manageable and he was such a good boy, so we were all able to have a good time and make memories.  Not sure if that would have been possible with a toddler and a small baby.  I’m learning to enjoy the benefits of focusing all my attention on one child.  

We lost a dear family friend who was only 20 years old while I was visiting home.  Though I don’t want to go into all my thoughts about him here, it was certainly a reminder of our mortality and forced me to put things in my life back into perspective.  It was a devastating loss and I found myself really relying on the Lord for peace and understanding.  I am thankful to feel closer to God during this time of heartache. 

Just as I had to come to terms that God called Hans home at a time we all felt was unfair, I’ve been reminded in my pondering regarding children, that “If it’s not their time to come, it’s not their time.”  It’s not really about my life. Children are on loan from the Lord and I’ll be blessed to be the mother of whoever comes to me.  Granted, it often feels as if many people get to choose or “plan” when and how their family grows, but maybe our next child is supposed to come at a very specific time.  I need to have faith, be patient, and be grateful for what I have in the meantime to gain a peaceful heart and have a happy life.  One thing I absolutely cannot do is compare my life to my friends’ lives or how their families are growing.  We are all different and that is ok.  It’s not for lack of trying to grow my family. 

A very dear friend of mine has just had a beautiful, sweet little boy.  I wrote about him before, he has spina bifida and had surgery before he was born (science is unbelievable…).  By nothing short of a miracle, he stabilized and was able to stay in the womb for 8 weeks after the surgery.  This week her water broke (also a miracle that her labor started with her water breaking so they could get her right into surgery…only like 10% of women start their labor with their water breaking) and after a life-flight trip, he was born via c-section about 6 weeks premature.  Which, for the situation, is just miraculous to me.  They have been in my thoughts constantly.  This has not been an easy journey.  I was on the phone with her and she was expressing some guilt that he had come early and that she hadn’t been able to “keep him in longer” so that he would have an easier time breathing (he is struggling a little now with his premature lungs).  As I offered any comfort and advice I could, I was really reminding myself of the lessons I have learned through my struggles.  We don’t get to pick when babies come or when they go- that’s all the work of the Lord I’ve learned.  But we just get to be the best moms to them while we have them with us.  Putting the control in the Lord’s hand is hard, but it does bring peace.  We do all we can do, absolutely everything- and trying to do anything beyond that does nothing but cause stress and heartache. He sends us beautiful miracles, and they are truly in his care.

As a final note (I know this post has grown very long because it’s covered a longer time span) I wanted to share one last experience.  I talked with a woman tonight who had a daughter, and then 13 miscarriages.  On her last miscarriage she was 16 weeks, and was hemorrhaging.  When she woke up in the hospital, her uterus was gone- they had no choice but to take it.  She was beyond devastated (especially because she had no warning), but now that her daughter is 23, she had lots of perspective and advice for me.  I really appreciated her help and support, especially the guidance on how to get out of the depression sinkhole after a loss and still be a good mom to the miracle you have.  She’s in the 1% and I was so thankful to meet her and see her strength.  I hope that our story ends differently, but it’s nice to know that she is still happy and has a good life.  I’m glad to be working on being happy.  Some days I still cry and it’s an uphill battle, but I finally am realizing it’s possible.  My fear still stops me in my tracks occasionally, but that is when I turn to the Lord and I know he will make up the difference.  I'm thankful to Him for all I have learned in the past two months, because I am a happier person now than I was then.    

Hope in Unlikely Places

The cycle continues.  About two to three months after a miscarriage, I find myself pondering and imagining about “next time.”  I start to ponder what my “medical plan” will be, and even let myself dream just a little bit of the uncontainable joy I would experience if I were ever able to hold another newborn child of my own.  Granted, our next pregnancy is at least 10-11 months away if not more, because we promised to take a break for at least a year.  Four losses seem to leave you no choice but that.  And if that weren’t enough, I am beyond terrified to get this implant cut out of my arm.  I already find myself worrying about that part even though it’s like a year away (get it together Amber, seriously).  Regardless, a mother’s heart is a fertile heart, and so I dream of when my miracle will come to me.

I’ve generally come to see clinics and doctor’s offices as places that usually deliver bad news.  Tracking my last four pregnancies and losses took place in a doctor’s office.  So, naturally, I’ve come to dislike them somewhat.  Bad memory triggers.  Who likes going to the doctor anyway, right?  I was feeling particularly somber today as I made my way to the InstaCare inside of the hospital for this sinus infection that won’t die.  I prefer saline/over-the-counter remedies to antibiotics- but too many days of pressure headaches motivated me to get a prescription.  The InstaCare is located just past the elevator that goes up to the labor and delivery/OBGYN floor.  So naturally, I passed by several women nearing their due date, as well as several tiny newborns nestled into their carseats.  I smiled a sad smile at them with a heavy heart and thought of my due dates past, and one that I had coming up in August.

I took a deep breath and put on my brave face and grabbed a magazine to flip through as I waited.  In that magazine I found a little boost of hope, even though I was surrounded an environment that is very painful for me.

Let me flashback for a second.  It was just last night I was discussing my next “plan” with Kevin.  I told him how next time we take a positive pregnancy test, I really want it to be between us and the Lord.  Not because I want to be irresponsible, but because no amount of medical intervention that we’ve done has made the slightest difference.  It never bought us any more time.  If it had given us even a few more weeks I would be right back in the office, but nothing ever changes in the slightest.  What the constant trips to the doctor has done, is help educate us.  We know what conditions I have, and what I don’t.  We know what our options are, and what we have tried.  Most of all, we know there is nothing they can technically “do” to save our pregnancies.  I have been poked and prodded and evaluated more times than I can remember.  I have tried aspirin with all kinds of varying timelines, daily lovenox injections, hormone therapy, HCG monitoring, etc.  Now we know those things didn’t change the outcome, all they really gave me was an insane amount of stress.  

This last pregnancy was the hardest.  I don’t think one can understand the stress of getting a test every 48 hours to find out if your baby is still alive, unless you have been through it.  Even the tests that came back well were insanely difficult.  They allowed me to take a huge breath of relief for one more day, even though I was still filled with worry and stress.  When I got the test back that told me baby had only grown 12% it was absolutely horrible.  The emotional exhaustion was too much.  I basically went home and waited for the life to stop, and then to lose it.  Finding out you are losing your baby alone in the bathroom is horrible, but perhaps at least a few weeks of hope instead of needles, calls from the nurse, and constant monitoring is a blessing. 

As far as medication, I still believe that aspirin is important for me to take for both me and a growing baby.  However, I think next time I won’t start on it until we find out we are expecting. That’s what I did with Jack and it worked.  The doctors told me being on aspirin while trying to conceive shouldn’t make enough of a difference to determine the outcome of a pregnancy, but if that’s the case, it shouldn’t matter if I take it beforehand or not.  Maybe my thinking is flawed here, but when you get to this point you have to listen to your gut.  I take the aspirin before a positive pregnancy test to decrease the risk of microclotting in the primitive placenta.  Starting it at 4 weeks is still very early, but I just have a feeling that the aspirin is perhaps interfering with the implantation process when I take it earlier.  There is no medical evidence to support this.  I’ve started on aspirin pre-pregnancy twice, and lost both.  I’ve started on aspirin after a positive test three times, and one of those was Jack.  In fact, my pregnancy with Jack was the latest I’ve ever started on aspirin.  Which tells me that it seems to be more of a preventative measure than something that really affects outcome.  The progesterone I used in my last pregnancy didn’t buy me any more time and I didn’t use any with Jack.  Though I’m not opposed to using it, it’s not medically proven or even recommended by my doctor for any purpose.

These are the reasons why I feel peaceful when I imagine our next pregnancy will just be between us and God.  If I make it to 6 weeks, I will practically run to the clinic, but the stress of imagining the every-other-day appointments with no change in outcome is simply too much.  Our next step is a fertility clinic.  I just can’t imagine being ready to jump into that world without giving my body one more old-fashioned chance.  Kevin agreed with my thoughts and felt peaceful about the idea of trying once more next year, using only aspirin once we find out there is a life growing.  If, heaven forbid, we lose that baby, I will surrender and work with a fertility clinic from that point. 

Enough of the long back-story, back to the magazine.  I was flipping through articles when something caught my attention.  An entire page of writing with a large title, “Recurrent Pregnancy Loss.”  What?!  Someone took the time to write about this in a normal magazine?  It talked about some basic statistics and then started talking about causation. 

First it discussed chromosome abnormalities which are the most common cause of miscarriage.  Then it discussed gene “translocation” which is one of the most common reasons for losing three or more pregnancies in a row.  It’s where one of the parents have part of a chromosome attached to another chromosome, which has somehow balanced out.  It makes it difficult to have a healthy embryo.  My doctor and I have discussed this.  Testing is extremely expensive and rarely yields a helpful result.  Even if you find out this is the reason, the only way to avoid it is to do IVF and screen embryos…and even then, no guarantees.  I think we are a few years away from going down this road.  If for no other reason, because it would be financially impossible.  Plus, I just can’t get over the fact that my very first pregnancy resulted in a healthy boy... if I really had a chromosome issue?  The statistics just don’t add up to me.  But I suppose it’s possible.

Next it discussed age and being an older mom (not my problem).  Then it talked about lack of progesterone even though this is not a proven theory.  We tried progesterone with no benefit noted.  It talked about uterine abnormalities, which is not my problem as it would have been noted with my pregnancy with Jack.  Next was thyroid problems.  Check.  I have hypothyroidism; however, it is well controlled with medication and technically should have no causation in my losses.  In fact, my thyroid usually is healthier while I’m pregnant.  Next was antiphospholipid syndrome, which my hematologist thought I had, but the test came back surprisingly negative.  Next is blood clotting problems.  Check.  Leiden Factor V, low protein C and S, MTHFR.  Check check check.  The article explained how these could be controlled with aspirin and heparin (similar to Lovenox) and increased live birth rates.  Tried it every time with no luck. 

Well here I was at the end of the article feeling pretty discouraged.  All of these reasons and solutions, and no new direction to go in.  Perhaps in the end we would depend on a simple miracle after all.  And then the last paragraph caught my eye. 

70% chance of a miracle.  With no medical intervention.  There is a 70% chance that our next baby will be born and held safe and warm in our arms.  I hope that the more times we try, our chances will only improve.  I am thankful for tender mercies such as this.  The next time I am pregnant, I hope I can tell myself "there is a 70% change that this baby will be born"  instead of "only one of my previous five pregnancies has been successful; my odds aren't good."  Though I know our next pregnancy is a while away, I felt peace in my plan as I read this.  I want to keep the start of my next pregnancy at home and out of the office.  I want to try and stay calm in the comfort of my home, the support of my husband, and with strength from prayer.  I know that our chances are still good of having a healthy baby with very little medical intervention.  I know that it will be better on me to have that stress and worry removed.  If it is God’s plan for medicine to be more involved, we will find ourselves in a fertility clinic and go that route after another loss.  However, I have peace for now in our plan and can look forward to it.  70%.  That number makes me smile.  God is aware of us.  I am thankful for this kind reminder of hope.  My miracle may not be my next pregnancy, or the one after that, but it will come to us somehow, someday.  May 2015 be a year of miracles.  Here’s to hoping and dreaming.      

The 1%

Among all women, about 20% of pregnancies unfortunately end in miscarriage.  Less than 1% of women will have 3 or more consecutive miscarriages in their life.  While I consider myself lucky in many areas of my life, this is an area I feel particularly unlucky in.  1%.  How did I not end up in the other 99% somehow?  It is a lonely and desolate place.  Though there is support to be found from women who have ever experienced a miscarriage, it becomes a different trial when you have lived through it four times in a row.  There is support from couples who struggle with infertility.  But again, it is not quite the same.  That loneliness can sometimes feel very heavy as I keep fighting to deal with the mourning and emptiness I feel almost daily. 

However, I was grateful when I learned of a woman (a friend of a friend) who has a beautiful child in first grade, but has endured losses in all the years since the birth of their first child.  She is pregnant now, and the baby is healthy and well past the point of their other losses.  Not only was her story miraculous and inspiring- I was simply amazed that there was someone else dealing with it.  I hope I don’t have to endure as many years as they have to meet my next miracle. 

She wrote me and gave me a little advice- saying the most important thing is to keep trying, as painful as it is.  She affirmed that once your body has done it once, you can do it again.  It's so good to hear that- sometimes I feel like people will think I'm foolish for trying again and again.  Not that it matters what others think in these situations, but it's still helpful to feel supported.  With every loss I become less shocked at the loss, and more shocked that I ever had a live birth.  If my mom hadn’t gone against my wishes and filmed my son being born I might not even believe it myself anymore.  My first pregnancy had no real complications and resulted in a healthy and thriving child.  I don’t know what could have possibly changed so much within me in a few short years.  However, I know that it happened and my child was in fact born, and so I have to keep trying because I know it is possible.  It may not be probable, but my body has done it before.  I have to trust that it can do it again.  The trick is finding that patience to endure.    

Though recurrent miscarriage is not an extremely common, I have been blessed and have connected with people who are in similar circumstances.  People I never would have met normally.  Friends, working alongside the internet, have connected me to a support system that has blessed my life.  I want to give back to someone else if I can.  Just the other week, someone told me of a relative who has struggled with recurrent miscarriages and is very discouraged.  I gave her my blog address hoping to either connect or support her somehow.  If anything good comes out of something bad- it makes a difference.  I try to reach out to people I connect with through these networks.  People don’t always write back, and I respect that privacy.  Really more than “talking about it” I just want to show love to these couples.  I want them to know that they are loved and that I feel their pain.  I want them to know that they are not alone, even though it really feels like it when you are mingling with 99% of people who don’t really understand.

It is a challenge in the 1% to wonder why you can't just “plan your family” like "normal people" but I am trying to keep a new attitude in mind- which is that everyone feels like that in some way.  We all try to reach this "normalacy" and when we struggle to get there it can be frustrating.  Whether it be getting a degree, finding a good job, buying a house, finding a loving spouse, having children, finding fulfillment in hobbies, etc.  I don't think it's "normal" to just "have it all" without the struggle.  Whatever your dreams may be.  So when I'm laying in bed feeling broken and feeling like the odd one out, I try to remember I have things going for me in my life that someone out there is wishing they had, like a "normal" person like me does.  We all struggle. We have to embrace our struggles with faith and have joy in what we have found. 

Comparison is the thief of joy.  Most of the time, I am very happy with my life and all of my blessings.  It's when I feel that emptiness that my trials bring, and see so many others around me with that fortune I wish for, that I start to feel despair.  And so, I am learning to not compare. I am learning to see my life as my own, and different from anyone else's.  Envy does nothing but hurt me.  I know there will always be sadness in my heart when I sit in my OBGYN clinic surrounded by beautiful round bellies full with life.  But sadness and righteous desire can be different from envy.  I want to be more Christlike in this behavior.  I want to feel joy for others in their good fortune.   

I'm afraid that it's never going to get better sometimes; that I will lose every pregnancy I’ll ever have, but I don’t want to let that fear get in the way of feeling joy for others. 

 Elder Holland is so wonderful as he describes this principle when speaking of the biblical parable of the Prodigal Son.  Specifically in this case, he is speaking of the elder brother:

"He is haunted by the green-eyed monster of jealousy. One who has heretofore presumably been very happy with his life and content with his good fortune suddenly feels very unhappy simply because another has had some good fortune as well."  -Elder Holland

I know that we all feel lonely in some areas of our lives, and no matter what “percentage” we find ourselves in, stretching ourselves and cultivating Christlike abilities to feel joy for others will bring us joy and peace in our hearts.

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!