Fog

This time of year is always hard.  Even when I am not actively thinking about my Dad, the knowledge that this is when he died is always there.  Some years are better than others; this year has been particularly hard.  On a positive note, I have been more sad this year.  :)  I know that may sound contradictory, but too often I don't feel anything, or not enough, anyway, so I will take sad.  But the fog is hard.  It makes it hard to move, hard to think, hard to get up in the morning, and hard to care about anything.

Today, a friend sent me this, and this quote broke through the fog, bringing me to tears:

"'So I would like to remind the couples who are experiencing the condition of infertility, that their vocation to marriage is no less because of this. Spouses, for their own baptismal and marriage vocation, are called to cooperate with God in the creation of a new humanity. The vocation to love, in fact, is a vocation to the gift of self and this is a possibility that no organic condition can prevent. There, where science has not yet found an answer, the answer that gives light comes from Christ.'”  


Ahhh.  Marriage itself is a calling.  Marriage itself is valued by God.  Thank you, Mr. Pope (Your Holiness?) for saying this, for shining light on hope for the hopeless, for speaking Truth where often there is none.  


I think this is also a good reminder that there are many things that are complete on their own, namely a person.  A single person is complete by his/herself and created.  A life, conceived in any manner, is complete and created by God.  LIFE is created by God.  LIFE is all around us: plants, trees, birds, fish, dogs, giraffes, babies, the elderly -- it is all life and it is GOOD.


I will say more about LIFE later.  For now, know that you, your marriage, your very being, is a life called unto God. 

Empty

Tonight I sat at my mom's house and noticed something I had never noticed before: the way the picture wall is arranged reflects the stages of her children's lives.  I had noticed the wedding picture of my brother and his wife, and the photo of me and my husband that was added after we were married.  My sister isn't on this particular wall (there are several photo walls in their home,) because she is not married yet.  What drew my attention tonight is that my mom has started adding pictures of her grandkids.  So, my brother and sister-in-law's wedding photo is surrounded by several pictures of their son, their daughter, and all of them as a family.  The other side of the wall contains one photo of Joe and I on our wedding day.  No other photos surround us.  We are alone on an empty side of the wall.  And that makes me really sad.  In this instance, the sadness isn't necessarily for us, though there is an element of that to everything, it seems; this sadness is for my mom, my dear, sweet mother who would love a house full of grandchildren and so far has only two.  What if we never add to that wall?  That makes me sad for her.  This infertility thing not only involves the hopes of the two people trying to have a baby.  It involves the hopes of grandparents-to-be, aunts and uncles in waiting, cousins who would love playmates, and friends who want to share this stage of life with us.  It is hard to look beyond my own pain and sadness at this situation to see this, but sometimes I can look beyond the edges of it, like looking to the edge of a field, and catch a glimpse of how it might affect others.  It's blurry, but it's there.  Sometimes it makes it easier, focusing on someone else's perspective of the situation, and sometimes it just knocks the wind out of me, the knowledge that I am, again, albeit through no control of my own, letting people down.  And that stinks.

All or Nothing

I am worried that I have taken a somewhat unhealthy approach to how I am dealing with INFERTILITY.  That is what we're dealing with.  Difficult to admit, but true.  The approach I have taken is one of ALL or NOTHING.  I either don't think about any of this at all, going about my daily responsibilities without really thinking of it, or I decide it's time to really face it, make some decisions, and move forward.

A dear friend asked me about the entire situation last weekend, which made me pause.  I paused and thought a few different things: 1) "This is a good friend.  Thank you God for good friends who aren't afraid to bring things up that may explode into a volcano of ickiness."  2) "Am I NOT dealing with this?  Am I just ignoring it?   What should I be doing?"  3) (Later in the day,) "Maybe it's time to bite the bullet.  We should just go ahead and go to the doctor and do what he says."

Thankfully, I guess, I landed somewhere in the middle of all of that.  I brought it up with J and we talked about it some.  I had a terrible dream about having a horrible argument with the dear friend.  I had trouble sleeping.  So today I decided I would try to do some more reading about infertility, to try once again to find some information, some encouragement, from people who have been through what I have that wasn't all in "infertility terms."  (If you don't know what I'm talking about, visit an infertility support website.  Everyone is speaking in a foreign code containing things like "Lupron, BCP's, e2 levels, just to name a few.)

Here are some examples of what I found:

"Are you interested in or planning IVF?  Ask about our multi-cycle discounts!"

"Most women simply don’t realize that at 30, a healthy woman has about a 20 percent chance of conceiving per month and by the time she reaches 40, her odds drop to about 5 percent, Collura said."

Wow.  The first item makes me feel like Wal-Mart has gotten into the infertility business and wants to sell me IVF (In-Vitro Fertilization) at their "Roll-Back Price."  Or they're running a specials at Sam's.  The second item blew every positive thought I had about trying to find encouragement right out of my head.  According to it, I maybe have a 10-12% chance of having a baby, even without our infertility issues.  Both of these items were found on websites for actual fertility clinics, by the way, not quacks selling drugs on the internet.

I am sitting here realizing that infertility has become a massive marketing market:  Conceive NOW before it's too late!  Don't miss this ONE TIME OFFER!*

*Offer may be hazardous to your physical, spiritual, and emotional health.  May cause damaging side effects to your marriage.  Side effects may include, but are not limited to: adversely affecting your body now and in the future, going bankrupt, being convinced that your body is not your own and that you MUST do these things because if you don't then there is 0 chance of a baby, and increased stress in every aspect of your life, including your marriage.  No guarantees, no refunds.

AND THIS MAKES ME MAD!!!!  Mad, mad, MAD.  Why do I have to listen to these people?  Why do I think I have to listen to these people?  They don't know me.  They don't know J.  They don't know our bodies or our lives or the home we've built or anything else about us, but by golly, they will sell us the opportunity to put ourselves through hell and MAYBE, just maybe get a baby out of it.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  They get paid either way.

And then I realize, I don't have to listen to them.  I don't have to submit my body to their will, to what they say will make my body and J's body and our bodies together cooperate to have a child.  The ONE I do have to listen to DOES know me.  He knows J.  He knows our hopes and our struggles and the things we cry about in the middle of the night.  He knows our bodies from head to toe.  He knows every hair on our heads.  And he LOVES us.  He's not trying to sell us something.  He loves us, even in our sin, our darkest moments that we don't want anyone else to know about.

And HE has a plan for us.  A plan that may or may not include children.  Who am I to mess with that plan?  Sarah messed with the plan, and though God made good things happen out of her impatience and disobedience, He would have preferred that she didn't mess with the plan.  Elizabeth resigned herself to the stigma and sting of being barren, and she got to parent John the Baptist!  Mary believed the COMPLETELY IMPOSSIBLE could happen with her fertility (a virgin had a baby!) and she had the incredible honor of bringing our Savior into the world as a baby and being entrusted by God to raise Him.  The Bible is full of people who were obedient and disobedient with their fertility. (Remember the two women in the Old Testament who got their dad drunk on different nights and had sex with him.  That wasn't God's plan!)  I pray that I would be obedient to Him with my body, with my fertility, that J and I would listen and obey, no matter how hard it gets.  That obedience may take us somewhere I haven't thought of and to places I am not comfortable in.  But HE will be there, and that is what matters.  I choose to TRUST the author of my life, to place it ALL in His hands, give Him ALL the glory, and REJOICE in His plan for me, for us.  Giving Him my ALL may leave me with NOTHING, but NOTHING with Him is better than it ALL with the world.

What shall we tell the neighbors?

"When are you going to have kids?"

"When you have kids, you'll understand..."

I'm 34.  My husband is 33.  By pretty much everyone's standards (most everyone we come into contact with, at least,) we should have children or be on the verge of having children.  Heck, by our standards we should be having children or be on the verge of having children.  All of our friends are, by the bushel full, it seems.

It follows, then, that people would be curious about our child-free status.  When we first got married, people would pretty much just ask when we were going to have kids.  It didn't seem nearly as painful then, just sort of nosy.  But who hasn't asked a couple when they're going to have kids or when they're going to get married or one of several questions that you probably shouldn't ask, because if you have to ask, they most likely have a reason for not telling you.  We've all done it and we've all been asked these questions.  I digress.

My point in that now, with us being married a whole 4 years and all, and with both of us rapidly approaching our *gasp* mid-thirties, people have stopped asking and started sort of dancing around the subject.  Comments like "when you have kids..." and "pretty soon you'll know what we're talking about" are pretty common.

And what do you say?  Do you stop the entire conversation and explain that you may never have children?  Do you say why?  Do you then list out all the reasons you've come up with why it might be nice to not have kids?  (You get to sleep in on weekends, you don't ever have to deal with a screaming child that you can't hand back to his/her parent, etc.)  Or do you just sit uncomfortably and nod and smile and hope the subject passes reasonably quickly?

We chose the last option last night at a gathering we attended.  There were several of us having dinner, talking, laughing, and generally having a good, kid-free time.  (Everyone at the table but us has multiple children; they were not in attendance last evening.)  They were talking about kids and telling funny stories, and it was entertaining and I was not thinking about not having children at all until "the comment" came.  "You'll see when you guys have kids."

When put in this situation, what in the world are we supposed to say?  Should we try to explain what is really happening in our lives, something that is deeply personal and hard for us to talk about with even each other?  We do talk about it, but it is not fun and it is not easy and it is honestly pretty crappy.  So do we bring that crappiness to the party, in this case literally?  I think not.  No, we nod and smile and pray to ourselves that the topic changes quickly, that people jump back to talking about themselves.  It usually does, but a part of me stops.  From the point that it comes up, a part of me remains with that frozen smile on my face, fearing that someone will see that something is wrong and at the same time almost hoping they will.  Because at least then I could talk about it.  I could stop trying to hide it, to smile over it like it is a shameful secret.

More than anything I wish people wouldn't have to hint or ask or assume, that they would just accept us as the people we are.  And the people we are would like you to know that if we want to talk about it, we will bring it up.  And that if you want to know something, you should ask, not hint.  Hinting is rude.  And if you ask, be okay with the answer, even if that means a crying girl at a table in the middle of a dinner party.  Then give her a hug.

The First

I have been considering starting this blog for a while.  Felt compelled, even, but something always stops me.  Actually, I think it's probably many somethings: fear of being judged, fear of being called names or worse, fear of not being real, fear of hurting someone inadvertently.  Perhaps it is one thing stopping me: FEAR.  And still I feel compelled.  Maybe the compulsion is just to get my thoughts and feelings out, to put them somewhere other than deep in my gut, which can't take much more.  But then, why not just journal?  Thoughts onto paper from a pen still get out.  I think there is something deeper.  I don't want to feel so alone in this.  I want SOMEONE to identify with what I am thinking, with what I am feeling, and with what I am saying.  I want someone to understand.  And maybe I can understand for someone else.  If there is anyone out there who feels as isolated and helpless in this, then perhaps I can encourage that person while being encouraged myself.

I am a thirty-something married woman without a baby.  Without any children, for that matter.  My husband and I have been married for over 4 years and stopped using any sort of birth control about a year into our married life.  No baby.  Never even a hint of a baby, other than the occasional half-second late period that was less of a hint and more of a punch in the face when the period actually came.  I think I will go more into our "story" later on, but you get the gist - no baby.

Tonight I was perusing Facebook - which I do entirely too often - and yet another friend announced her pregnancy.  Click on "2 New Posts" and WHAM! picture of a sonogram with a caption about welcoming the newest member of the family.  To me, Facebook is supposed to be a mindless distraction and a nice way to keep up with friends who I may or may not ever see in-person again.  I am discovering, however, that for a baby-less person who wants a baby, Facebook is a minefield.  "Oh," you think, "let's see who is frustrated with their job or who posted a funny graphic or whose child just got potty-trained."  And then there's yet another post about someone having a baby.  And it's only the beginning.  Because after the announcement of the pregnancy comes updates about the baby growing and baby showers and doctor's appointments and kicks and things you may never get to experience, things that you are losing hope of ever having. 

When I read these things, I AM happy.  I am happy that there is new life, happy that people are blessed with babies and children and LIFE.  But I cannot stop the sad, or the tears, or the anger.  WHY CAN'T IT BE ME?  WHAT DID I DO WRONG? 

There is no answer, you know.  I don't know why it can't be me.  I may never know.  And I didn't do anything wrong.  Sometimes life is harsh.  Sometimes it's not how we imagined it.  And sometimes we're confronted with the idea that Someone knows better than we do.  It's there, staring me in the face.  Do I believe it?  I hope I do.  I think I do.  But I am fickle, and doubt creeps in again and again.

"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is the tree of life." - Proverbs 13:12