Been a Little Down

Well. Another year is about to come to an end! 2024! What a year it was. November was really rough--we had a miscarriage, my seventh. By having so many I experienced this weird guilt. I felt guilty for being sad! I don't get it. Since this has happened so often I should know what to do and it shouldn't bother me anymore. But that's crazy, right? It's also slightly humiliating that this keeps happening to me. But I know God is good and his ways are better, and I trust him! It is just hard. Seven little babies didn't make it into my arms, and that is so sad! Besides my husband, we didn't tell anyone but one close friend. I guess now I'm telling everyone? 

Another hard thing happened, my beloved step father had a heart attack--or, I am not sure of the correct name--and had to have a pace maker put in! It was obviously very scary for him and for my mother, and for his daughter and for my sister and I too--I'm so glad he was okay. I need to pray for him more! And my mom too. Sometimes life keeps going and I forget to do the little things. 

Brian worked a bunch of extra hours, and there is always stress at work. But the main thing that is keeping me down is the loneliness. With two in school now, my mornings are crowded with homeschooling. My friends are homeschooling. I barely get to see one friend a week. And as an extrovert this is very hard on me. I feel very isolated and have been struggling! I try to reach out but most people are busy, or our times don't overlap, or someone gets sick at the last moment. Previously I would text at least with my friends, but even that has gotten hard to keep up with. I'm not sure what God is trying to teach me, but hopefully this is a stage. Having friends with a debilitating chronic illness is hard enough--add in homeschooling, cooking from scratch and cleaning and I am surprised I have time to write this post!

My chronic illness is worse, and my natural doctor is too swamped to help. Which also is annoying, but I get it she's a real person too. I am trying some things myself and will see if I can find some answers. Sometimes I get so discouraged because one step forward is twelve steps back and I wonder if I will ever be well. Maybe I should just go on the gaps diet again. I'm not desperate enough for that again yet. 

Turning almost 40 is another head-wrangler. I look so different than I used to. My body is changing and it's weird. I looked one way for my teens/20s and a little different for my 30s and now 40 is looming around the corner and it's so weird. Some of my friends are becoming grandmothers and here I am with a baby in my lap! Wild. 

I know God is good and I am a fallen human struggling to make the best of what I have, and I lean on him. Good habits, routine--I know all the steps to help cope. 

My kids are amazing, annoying, wonderful and everything I ever wanted. I bet they would say the same about me in certain situations? Reuben has questions I can't answer, Becky wants to wear makeup and Esther is in full toddler mode! So many things happening at once. And here I am just one mother with a bible and an instant pot asking the world for a little more sleep.

Christmas is just around the corner. We got a new-to-us-van (it's a 1999) and Brian is hanging up solar panels on our front fence. What will be next? 

I started posting on instagram again @raisingforhim if you are interested in seeing some day-to-day things. Love you all!

Facing the Last Nine Years

I realized the other day that for the nine years I have known my husband, 7 of those years I have been in mourning. Mourning, at first, my inability to stay pregnant after two losses. Wondering if I would ever have a baby.

With the birth of Reuben in 2016, I mourned the loss of my independent life and the changes pregnancy and childbirth inflicted upon my body, even while I rejoiced in the arrival of my beautiful son who I had longed for. 

We had Becky in 2018. 2018 is one of the best years of my life. My autoimmune diseases were subdued enough that I was living normally. My husband was helping so much around the house and with the kids. I felt seen and cared for postpartum. I thought maybe I was better. After two kids, maybe I could have more. Maybe my dream for a large family of 5 or 6 children was attainable! Hope blossomed in my heart and my desire for more babies thrilled me. I tried not to think of my years of infertility and miscarriage before I had Reuben.

In November of 2019 I was diagnosed with step throat and took a round of antibiotics, the first round in 6 years. I don't know if this was the trigger or just a side note, but my health has been abominable since. All my autoimmune problems are flaring. I went on to suffer two miscarriages in 2020, one at 8 weeks in January and one at 10 weeks in May, during covid.   

For the rest of May, June, and part of July I had a awful flair up of Epstein-Bar virus or ME/CFS causing me to be bedridden. After taking a round of herbs, I am left with on and off chronic fatigue (but only occasionally, thank God) horrible gut bloating whenever I eat anything, stomach pain, headaches, depression and anxiety. I'm seeing a natural doctor to see if they can help, and would appreciate prayers. 

And again, 2020 has been the year of mourning. Again infertility haunts me. All the fresh pain of losing babies with the waves of those I have already lost is staggering. And, so many are suffering due to covid...the explosion in beirut...war in artsakh...racial issues in America...I could go on, but I won't. During all of this, I have been in deep morning. Mourning the losses of my little ones. Mourning our choice to stop trying to have more babies, because my body can't, I can't go through this again. Mourning ending of my nursing years, as my debilitating chronic illness made it necessary for me to wean.

I always wanted a big family. I have eight children. But only two are with me right now. I have two beautiful blessings to be thankful for. And even though they were not allowed to stay, I am thankful for the six who wait for me in heaven, so thankful for the little time we had together. 

I have a God who loves me and who is good. My trials point me to Jesus and how much I need him in my life. I am his. His will for me is good, even when it doesn't seem that way to me. I have a husband who works hard for me and who loves me, and I am able to home-school. I have a lot of yarn. Yes, I am thankful for yarn. I love knitting and crocheting and the process of making something and sharing it with the world. 

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil, for God is with me and his rod and staff will comfort me. (Psalm 23:4)

There is more suffering to come, because we are but sojourners on this Earth. God is good and I will trust in him.

I wonder what the next nine years will be like? All I can do is keep going. And rest, and give myself time to grieve and time to mourn and time to pray. 

well, I miscarried

This isn't a post I wanted to write.

Mother's day was hard. 

Also, I had to go to the ER during a virus outbreak. When I started to miscarry, we dropped the kids off with a neighbor (who they knew) and Brian took me to our local ER. I thought he would be able to come with me. I was counting on it, but because of Covid he wasn't allowed and I had to go in alone. The ER was empty. I'm talking, rows upon rows of empty beds and shut of lights and very reduced staff. I saw one patient waiting when I came in (he had a broken leg) and another elderly lady came in after me. When I left 4 hours later-ish (was it 3? I don't remember) I saw the guy and the elderly lady on their way out too, and only one man going in. It was eerie.

I was masked upon arrival and wore it the whole time, even when I sneezed on myself. I don't recommend sneezing on yourself.

I hate blood work, but I had to do it alone. I lived. But I sure missed my husband, and he missed me. He always holds my hand and tells me I am being a big baby and it helps.  

Anyway, I was eight weeks. But my hCG levels were around 2300 (usually 6 weeks). They couldn't see anything on the ultrasound. 

Miscarriage.

What is wrong with my body? I asked the doctor, but he didn't answer me. Why does this keep happening? Six times now.

It is sad, but I am also okay. And done trying for awhile. I think forever, but I'll say awhile because time changes people. I just wish I knew what was broken inside of me, what is making my body have so many miscarriages. The only blood work that came back "high" or "abnormal" was my bilirubin levels, and I don't know what that means. Doctor said it could be normal for some, but it felt like a red flag to me. He did not seem concerned. 

I'm exhausted. 

I trust God. I do. And I love him, and I know he loves me, but I did really want this baby, even if I was not exactly thrilled about giving birth again. I need a hug and I need friends but since I went to the ER, we need to stay home for at least a week to make sure I didn't pick up covid-19. 

Leave me a comment that cheers me up. I need it.

What is Happening

Somewhere around last week I realized I had not had my period since March.

I immediately panicked.

I just had a miscarriage in January! And now I'm pregnant again? Or maybe pregnant? I religiously track my period but after my miscarriage its been ALL OVER THE PLACE so I...quit. That probably wasn't the best idea, but oh well. Life happens. I am not very fertile--after each miscarriage (I've had five) it has taken me at least eight months to become pregnant again. Well, except this time. This time it took three months.

I am now experiencing nursing aversions and mild nausea. So, I am going to just call myself pregnant but I have not tested yet. I will in May. 

My main fear is I'll have another miscarriage. My next fear is that I will have something go wrong with my pregnancy. I've had mildly complicated pregnancies. I had marginal placenta previa with Reuben and severe gestational diabetes with Rebekah. What new medical horror awaits me this time? I've been praying about it a lot. That I will have an uncomplicated pregnancy and birth. That God will give me the strength to be okay with another loss or with whatever hurdles this pregnancy brings.

Also, everything in our state (Virginia) is still locked down. My thrive market deliveries are two weeks behind. We can't find some things in stores, and everyone is wearing masks. I'm wearing one too. Basically my life has been mildly impacted in a first world way, and I will not complain, because I know people out there are suffering a lot more! I will thank myself that I can afford thrive market deliveries and am able to stay home with a nice big yard to play in. I am thankful that our air conditioning works, we have toilet paper, and electricity to run our Nintendo switch games. God is good. I am praying for our country and for protection from this virus. I am praying a lot.

This week, and last week (week 5 and 6) we have started getting some take out food! Ice cream, and our favorite Thai restaurant both are doing to-go orders. It's awesome to support small businesses and also...eat food. 

We are bored of our yard and of walks around the neighborhood. Time for some social distancing park adventures.

How are you guys doing? Should I name my baby Corona?

No One Really Has A Surprise Pregnancy

One of the things God has taught me as I have traversed infertility (twice now) is that no one really has a surprise pregnancy.

I have heard (and said myself) about how amazing it must be to just have sex and get pregnant. No complications, no tears, just BAM. I have envied other women who seem to get pregnant with ease. I have thought they were lucky. I have wished to be them.

But you know what? To God, all babies are planned. There are no surprise pregnancies to him. He plants babies in mamas to further his will and his glory. He gives gifts of children as he sees fit. While I worked really hard to have my Reuben, struggling for three years with miscarriages and infertility, God already knew that he was coming. God formed him and knew him. Reuben is mine to raise for this short time on Earth, even as I know he belongs fully to God; and he wasn't a surprise to God.

The same goes for my friends who seem to "get pregnant easily". God knew and gave those women babies too. I should not envy what God has given another, I should not let anger simmer in my heart over what I do not have.

my two sillies

Babies may certainly be news to us here on earth when they come, but now I can glory in the fact that God knew all and loved all, and planned for all.

This simple revelation helped me release my feelings of sorrow over infertility, and accept God's will for me and his gifts of Reuben and Rebekah. I would have more children, if I could choose: but I can't. I must be thankful what God has given and rest in his plan for my life. His plan is good, and I desire to be a good steward of the time he has given me.

So, I thank him for the tiny moments I had with my babies who passed and rest in the joy that God gives to those who search after him. God knows the story of my life and the story of my babies lives already, he is the one I want writing on the pages of my life, a life he gave to my mother.

My life belongs to him, always and forever. And I thank him for my two babies and my five miscarriages, and for my dreams. God is good.

The Pain Never Leaves

Sometimes it's hard to think about--I'd have 5 children if they'd all made it past the first trimester. I'd have an 8 year old little girl, and three unknown babies--and Reuben. One would be due soon, in February. The last one I lost, who I only knew about for three weeks before he or she passed.

Miscarriage is hard. And it never stops being hard. I remember when I saw my first baby on ultrasound at seven weeks. She was just a dot. Two weeks later she was gone. For nine weeks I thought about how I was going to tell my mother I was pregnant-- (I was not married and it was the summer before my junior year in college). Nine weeks my boyfriend and I struggled over what to do and edged around the topic like uncomfortable, but excited parents. When I lost her I went to the emergency room because I didn't know what was going on only that something was dreadfully wrong. I called my mother and she learned of my pregnancy and miscarriage in the same breath. She came and held my hand through it all and never once did I hear a word of judgement come out of her mouth. I love her to this day for it. Maybe she didn't know what to say. Maybe she knew that all I needed was her presence.

When I got married I was reassured that "miscarriages happen" and "one is normal" by many doctors. But I went on to have two more losses with my husband. Together we cried. I was certain I would be a mother to dead babies only, and never get to experience the joy of live birth or of parenting a toddler.

Reuben was born in 2015. He truly is a rainbow baby.

We lost another baby a few months ago. My next baby, if he or she lives--will also be a rainbow baby.

Over the years I have struggled with feelings of disgust over my body--my body that has failed to give these children life. Sometimes I hate it. I can't even look at my belly, bloated from my last viable pregnancy yet still an alien within my own bounds, a vessel that expelled as well as gave life.

A lot of people don't understand miscarriage and infertility and infant loss and that's okay. You know, they usually have to go through it to understand it, and its something I would never wish on anyone. I have friends who get pregnant easily and often, and sometimes they say insensitive things. But I envy them their privilege, their words that come from such a easy place when the babies they want come without effort or medical procedures. I try not to take it personally. They just don't understand. And I hope they never do.

I often wonder when the pain will leave. When will I not think of my little ones? I think of them often, especially when I look at my son, or my husband, or see pictures of myself in college. I think of the things behind Reuben's smiles and the pictures and see the babies that never were. Briefly they flittered across my life--now gone.

I am okay. I am okay but yet I am not okay. There is a duality to miscarriage that I never knew existed. I function and love and make happy memories with my Reuben and my Brian--I am fully present and aware and my heart it full of joy. But I also miss my babies and think of them often.

I know where I will finally be whole--when I am with all my children in heaven where they can all be in my arms at once. We will be together, and we will worship God.

I wrote this for Rachel.

Thoughts

So a few weeks ago I found out I was pregnant. Two weeks later I had a miscarriage. My fourth miscarriage. Then Reuben's birthday happened and life was keeping me super busy and I didn't have much time to think about it or grieve or wonder... and now here we are.

I was thrilled when I found out. We weren't trying, since sex still makes me feel like I'm being stabbed to death for some reason (ugh). We'd had sex twice in the last three months. Both of those times I did my best to get through it for my husband. This is the part where you tell me that I don't have to have sex if it hurts, and you would be right. But I like sex. Or at least I did. I want to like it again, and this means that I have to keep trying. It's just, well, not fun. And also hard to talk about.

Anyway, back to the pregnancy. I was alerted to said baby when I got morning sickness. Except I had a negative test. Two weeks later I still had morning sickness, and a positive test. I was so happy. My husband was so happy. I tested again and it turned positive immediately. Two positive tests are all I have to remember this little one by.

So, I had a miscarriage. I'd thought naively "that whole infertility thing" was behind me. That one birth meant my body would work right again. That I wouldn't have to revisit all those hurtful feelings.

And yeah, I know, it isn't my fault.

But it's happened, and its over, and I find myself now wondering what to do. Try again? Maybe, if my insides ever start cooperating. I want Reuben to have a sibling. Not that I think single kids are bad or anything, but I'd always pictured myself having at least two. If I'm honest, I want three.

So, obviously I've decided to have twins next. Wish me luck. And I need to figure out some time to deal with the fact I lost another baby.

Right now I just added a little gem to my infertility necklace.

Remembering and Honoring my Miscarriages

Remembering the pregnancies that I lost is very important to me. Each of the children I have carried in my womb are important to me, no matter the amount time they spent there. I wanted a memento to remember them all by and my friend Jessica, who sells Origami Owl has helped me do just that!

I will be hosting Jessica this week in an online Origami Owl Facebook party. Check it out if you are interested in origami owl products like the locket above that my husband bought me to memorialize my miscarriages and also the birth of Reuben. In full disclosure, as a host, I receive a discount from Origami Owl and "hostess gifts" that are based on orders from my party. But I truly love their products and what they mean to my life. 

When I Took Charge of my Health

I wanted to write a post about my journey. Two and a half years, two miscarriages (and the one from when I was in college, that I didn't know was related) and a lot of doctors appointments. The doctors were kind (mostly) and amazing (mostly) but they couldn't find anything wrong. My cycle is pristine. My blood work is great. My ultrasound showed no abnormalities. But I couldn't keep my pregnancies, I had a terrible digestive system, blood pressure and blood sugar problems and chronic fatigue. 

It was one year from my last miscarriage (almost exactly) that I became pregnant again with the little boy I am now carrying. During that year I decided to take control of my own life, as much as I could. I know, I can't "control" my life. But I wanted to fix the things I did have control over. I wanted to feel like I was doing all I could to realize my goal of starting a family.

These are the things I changed over the course of that year.

Obviously, I don't know if any of them played any part in helping me keep the baby I am now carrying. I don't know if they just made me a healthier person or if they perhaps played a vital role in boosting my body to help me sustain life. I decided at the beginning of that year after my last miscarriage that I was going to focus getting healthy and not worry about becoming pregnant. During this year I used no birth control, and didn't get pregnant until the end! Near the end I was really worried I could no longer get pregnant, through. And then I did..and boy, was it a shock. 

Here are things I changed, in chronological order:

1. Started taking a whole foods organic multivitamin. (This one: MegaFood Women's One Daily) It really helped my brain fog. Now I take their prenatal version.
2. Attempted to start exercising.  
3. Stopped using my microwave (I never said I wasn't extreme, yeah?)
4. Stopped drinking water with fluoride in it. Our town adds fluoride to all the water. I distilled all my water for several months. I no longer do this. But I did notice less brain fog and more energy. I want to buy filters for my house that will just filter it out, but they are very expensive. A regular filter will not remove fluoride.
5. Did a cleanse to attempt to fix my lifelong constipation and bloating.  (I chose Gaia Herbs Supreme Cleanse Kit and you can watch me vlog every day through it here. In short, it REALLY helped my constipation but after finishing the cleanse everything went right back to "normal". Sigh. Also, didn't help my bloating at all.)
6. Gave up soy. And corn.
7. Researched GMOs. Started buying all organic food much to the shock of my husband's wallet. 
8. Realized finally that I have a terrible gut. Massive researching about the human digestive track and a lot of learning happened. Started drinking kombucha to populate my track with good bacteria and tried to eat other fermented foods (couldn't do it, kimchi is gross, I'm sorry). Ate yogurt every day. (Still eat yogurt, sometimes drink kombucha)
9. Decided to give up gluten to see if I could reduce the amount of inflammation and pain I deal with in my arms and hands sometimes as well as see if it would help my gut. (Didn't really notice a difference in the inflammation, but noticed better digestion.)
10. Decided to go on the Paleo diet after a friend told me about it and it's magical properties in curing inflammation, pain, constipation and bloating. (It worked. Like a dream. Only it's very hard to maintain, and not allowed for pregnancy. Now that I'm expecting I just avoid gluten and sugar. I had no idea how much of my brain fog was from eating way to much sugar daily. I LOVE being paleo so much that after I wean my little man-baby you can bet I will be right back on it. I need to do a whole post on this. It took me three months just to start the diet because of how crazy it is.)
11. Started taking Juice Plus+ (not a vitamin, just veggies and fruits in pill form with sugar removed. It does help my constipation slightly. I still take this every day) 
12. Stopped cooking in anything with aluminum or plastic in it. This means no aluminum foil. Bought only surgical steel grade stainless pans, and utensils. No non-stick.
13. Started taking a fish oil. (I take Fermented Cod Liver Oil) 
14. Started taking digestive enzymes. (I just started Garden of Life RAW Enzymes two months ago. Can't tell if they are helping yet)

Right now I spend close to $100 on supplements a month. I'm still trying to find what works for me and what helps my body feel good. But these are all the things I changed or tried to change in my attempt to become healthy. I lost almost 20 pounds (lets not talk about how much I've gained back, please. I will cry on you) and by the time a year rolled around, I was feeling amazing. My blood pressure was normal. I no longer had any pre-diabeties symptoms and my fatigue was gone. My constipation is so much better (but not fixed)... and I felt like I was a healthier person. My body responded so well to my changes!

Then I got pregnant and nausea and everything went right out the window because I was eating whatever I could keep down and whatever my husband brought home...but lets not talk about that. I'm back on track now for what I would call a very healthy diet and I'm very happy. I really try to exercise every other day, and I don't eat any refined sugar or gluten. My gut is far from healed but it is a lot better then it was.

Oh, and I'm having a baby. So there is that, too.

Have you ever had a food/body adventure-crisis? How did it turn out? What did you learn about your own body that you didn't know before?

Things I Wish My Doctor Told Me About Miscarriage

There are many things you go through when you have a miscarriage. Pain. Worry. Fear. And there was very little I was told by my physician in the emergency room. Besides being given a confirmation that I was indeed losing my baby--little more was disclosed to me. As I was discharged I was informed of "how much blood was to much" and given a suggestion to wait 3-5 months before "trying again".

I know that every experience of child loss is different. But these are some things I wish my doctor had told me about miscarriage.

• Hair loss. Just like when you give birth, the hormones from having a miscarriage can result in hair loss. Quite a lot of hair loss. When my hair started falling out about a month after my second miscarriage, I kinda freaked out. And it also happened with my third. My hair has finally begun to grow back again (took like 3 months) I was totally unaware and unprepared for this. 
• Depression. I was severely depressed after all my miscarriages. I couldn't get out of bed and I could not stop crying. I couldn't cook and the fact that I couldn't even provide for my husband made me even more depressed. It got to the point that I wanted to cease existing. The only way I could cope was to read books nonstop and ignore life while my hormones attempted to regain whatever "normal"was. (I am okay now, don't worry!)
• My first period after each miscarriage was very weird. Extra heavy, extra painful, early and longer then normal. I had no idea this would happen.
• Weight gain. After all three of my miscarriages my hormones were all sorts of whack. I gained 10 pounds in two months and my diet didn't change at all. This, as you can imagine, did not help me feel better about myself. When I had my third miscarriage I made sure to exercise a little extra for the month after but I still ended up gaining some weight. 

A miscarriage is tragic and sensitive time for all those involved. If you or someone you love is going through this please pass a long this information in a kindly manner. Knowing what to expect can take away a lot of the anxiety and the foreknowledge especially helped me practice the right kind of self-care throughout my difficult time.

Not Bitter

I'm not bitter over the fact that I'm struggling with infertility. There, I said it. And I feel kind of odd because a lot of the blogs I read on this subject sound so bitter. I can't report on their actual feelings, since, you know, I'm not them, but that is the general vibe I get: one of bitterness and anger.

And truly, I can understand why someone going through this might feel that way. It isn't fair when you are finally in a position where financially and emotionally and physically you are ready to become a mom and it seems like the entire universe and your own body is suddenly against you. It isn't fair or fun when everyone around you is having their second or third baby and you are still waiting for your first. And it hurts when well meaning people who don't understand or know ask you when you are going to start popping them out.

But bitterness destroys.

Truly, I hurt and grieve over my unfulfilled dreams and the miscarriages I have suffered. But I'm not bitter.

I've been bitter before. I've been so bitter I've hated myself and others. I've almost destroyed my life, and bitterness has lead to the destruction of a previous relationship I was in. When I gained some distance from that relationship and realized the state of my own heart, I resolved never to give into the lies of bitterness. Because it takes away all the happiness in my life and causes me to only focus on the one thing that I don't have, when I have so much.

The lies of bitterness tell me: I'm hurting, no sense in trying to even have a good day. Why is everyone smiling when I'm hurting so much? I hate my body, it won't do what I want. I can never be a good wife if I can't give my husband a kid. I can't do anything today because everything is worthless without kids. They have it, so I deserve it as well. If I can't have it, I'll never be happy.

Bitterness sows hate into my heart. With God, there is no room for this kind of hate. You know what, I do hurt. And that's okay. But I still have good days. And people smile because they are happy! I can still be happy too even if I don't ever become pregnant. People deserve their own happiness, they don't need to be a sad just because I am. And their joy is not a slap in my face.

If my body has a medical problem, well, that's no reason to hate it! I love my body and the way I look. I enjoy having sex with my husband and dressing up. I don't need to feel shame or guilt over the fact that I have a medical problem. Sure, I'm sad. I'll probably always mourn. But I don't hate myself. There is still beauty in my body even if it is broken.

And lastly, a life without kids is far from worthless. This is a lie society tells us--that marriage without kids is somehow sub-par. Yes, children are wonderful and amazing gifts from God. But they are not the only gift God gives, nor the greatest. God has given me so many great gifts, and I am so thankful to him. The role of marriage and kids is one that fits many people. But not every person is called to have kids. For some, life has just worked out that way and the kids come easily. But for others this is not the case and that is where grief and bitterness can come in. I don't think grief is a sign of faithlessness, but instead the collision of a good desire with a broken world. Bitterness is just a choice I am choosing not to make.

Yes, God calls us to live obediently in our brokenness, but I know his heart is aching right along with mine. And I will honor him with my desires, unmet or otherwise.

I've learned so much in the wonderful motherhood grief support meetings I've been attending in my town.  It's been a true blessing to see each woman grapple with infertility, miscarriage and child loss and to know that I am not alone. I see strength and determination in these women, along with sadness and mourning. Sometimes this road we ride is a roller coaster of emotions. The things we struggle with are hard. But you know what I don't see? Bitterness and anger.  Oh, I'm sure we've all dealt with it. But it's so amazing when we can all come together in fellowship and grieve together. I hope I can one day be there for them the way they are here for me.

Infertility Update

Hey guys! About two months ago I went to the doctor...and a few weeks ago I finally got my test results back. I'm glad I forced myself to go (was really hard). It all came down to me really wanting to find out what may be behind the three miscarriages I've had... So, I had two ultrasounds, one internal and one external, and a battery of blood tests (thyroid test, day 3 FSH...and others that I can't remember)

All the tests came back inconclusive. I appear to be fine. I'm both relieved and disappointed, as you can imagine. On one hand it's nice to have a list of things that it's not. On the other hand they still don't know what it is... I just wish I had more to report!

For now about the only thing I can do is wait until I become pregnant again and then call right away. I'll basically have a high risk pregnancy (as in, I'll get seen right away, get an ultrasound and extra blood work, yay). So waiting on that.

I'm glad I went. But I'm still anxious.

It has also been one year since my first miscarriage with my husband. I made a video about it, sort of an open letter for my baby.

Did God Kill My Babies?

So, the thing I'd been told would happen finally happened last week. I never actually thought it would. Because, no one would be that judgmental, right?

I'm taking about infertility.

Well, I was explaining what I was going through to a family member, and they said:

"Well, if God wanted you to have a baby you would have one."

And then they continued to say something about how I must have sin in my life and how I was being punished because of this "sin" and that's why I kept having so many miscarriages...and if I would just repent and give my heart fully to God it would stop. (I can't remember the exact words, but this is the just of what they said.)

I didn't argue with this person. But I wanted to address this mindset in a sort of open letter.

To began, one must understand a little something about God and free will, and the universe. Please note that in this blog post I try to explain a lot of biblical world view in a understandable fashion, as well as wrestle with the question of election vs. free will. This is simply what I have come to understand about the bible and and about how the world works.

I believe in God. And I believe God could have saved my babies, all of them. But I also believe God is a God of order. He made the world and it works in an orderly fashion, all the way from gravity to atoms and back again. 

If I drink five martinis at a bar and try to drive home afterwards, I will probably get in a car wreck. Now, could God save me from this car wreck? Yes, he can, but usually he lets the world operate in the order he has made it in, because he has given us free will.  God gave me free will--and he lets me do as I wish with my life. He, for some reason, respects choices and in many cases he chooses not to interfere.

So, if I use my free will to do something stupid and attempt to operate a motor vehicle after drinking an intoxicating substance, I might die in a car crash or I might arrive home safe.

Also, my free will can influence and impact another person's life. I may hit a girl driving home from college. She didn't make the choice to drink and drive, yet because of my choice she was killed in the crash. Choices, everywhere, have consequences, and not just for ourselves.

That brings me back to my family member's assumptions:

1) I have sin
2) God is punishing me for my sin by "killing" my babies
3) To stop God from doing this, I need to repent and then will magically have babies and be happy, forever

Lets talk about the first assumption, that of my sin. Yes, I am a sinful person. And yes, because of my sin I deserve death and eternal damnation and separation from God. But--wait--didn't Jesus die for my sins? Doesn't he say in the bible that he will forgive my sins and blot them out when I enter into salvation? Am I not white as snow, a pure blank slate before God? So, I have sinned, but I have fallen on my face before God. Moreover, I have received salvation from God. And while I do still struggle with many sins and have many unresolved issues, I am now a born again christian, a child of God.

Now lets talk about the second assumption. Is God punishing me for my sin by killing my unborn children? As I said before, I fully believe God is a God of order. I know that even if God forgives me of my sins, I can still suffer consequences from my sins. But I don't remember doing anything that would cause the death of three babies in my womb. (Think, driving-car-after-drinking) I didn't, that I know of, do or eat something that could have caused myself to have a miscarriage. I know consequences usually are related to the wrong I've committed, and I know I tried to do everything right once I found out I was pregnant.

Common infertility causes

The dichotomy is that even when I do everything that is right--we still live in a world where evil exists and where bad things happen.

So if God is not punishing me for my sins--(and I don't think he is) maybe the fact that I am experiencing this type of infertility is because "life" affects me? (like someone else driving drunk hitting me) Could something I ate have something in it that wasn't supposed to be there? Could my hormones be out of whack due to environmental or emotional issues? Could it be genetics? Is it just the way my body grew?

It could be any of those things. Goodness knows I've thought about them all. But those things are just life...happening. I could not be held responsible for them any more then an ant could be for getting squashed under my shoe. Neither I or the ant are really all that aware of each other, but yet, inexplicably, we affect each other. Life is like that. And I'm okay with that. I know tomorrow I could be hit by a drunk driver and that would be that. Just as I know that I might never be able to have children, and I'm okay with that as well. Bad things just exist here on this earth. They do, and it's just life!

I believe that my inability to give birth and carry a baby is not God punishing me. Yes, I'm sad about it. Yes, I've prayed and cried and poured out my heart to God over this issue. But right now he is answering my prayer with a no. And there is so much I am learning, about myself, through my struggle with infertility at this time. God never promised to fix my life into perfection. He just promised to give me joy. And he has.

Even if I never give birth to a living child, I have joy. Even if I never am able to get pregnant again, I have joy. 

So, did God decide to take those babies home? Maybe he did. Maybe he decided it was their time, or maybe he decided to intervene in their lives before they had even begun. But instead of it being a punishment, perhaps it was just God calling them home. Or perhaps it was just life. As sad and painful and traumatic as it was to go through, I believe my babies are with God. I wish I had seen them grow up, I wish I had been able to hold them--but I know they are in a better place. And I don't think it was punishment from God for a second that made them go there, because death isn't a punishment. Death is finally going home--to God--where we all belong. And it is a place where I will soon go, and there I will meet my children. There we can be together, for eternity.

-----------

I know this blog post is full of some confusing concepts to grasp. I am still myself learning about God and his amazing ways. I want to learn more about the doctrine of election and also more about free will. I believe we have free will, and I also believe in election.

What Not to Say When a Friend has a Miscarriage

I've had some pretty insensitive things said to me when I've opened up about my miscarriages to friends, family, and church acquaintances. Here they are, with explanations attached! Hopefully this can help you connect to a friend who is or has gone through a miscarriage.

Don't worry, I'm sure you're be pregnant again soon!  

This actually causes me a lot of anxiety. I am suddenly hit with the realization that I will have other babies to worry about, other babies that might die. This statement actually caused me to panic. Also, I'm grieving for this child. If your grandmother died, I wouldn't try to make you feel better by telling you not to worry, you'll have another grandmother one day, would I? 

Are you sure you were pregnant? 

Yes. I'm very sure. You go to the emergency room when you are having a miscarriage, or to a birthing center if you are beyond the first trimester to, well, have a stillbirth. The doctor checks your blood levels as well, when you are admitted. Usually you have already had a doctors appointment verifying your pregnancy at some point before the miscarriage. Honestly, I don't understand this question when people ask it.  

Wow. That's my worst fear ever. 

Great. I'm living your worst fear. That totally helps me deal with this in a rational manner. Please excuse me while I go sob uncontrollably into a pillow.

  

Did you drink when you were pregnant? 

Why don't you find something more productive to ask, like helping me grieve? If you are not my doctor, you do not need to know what I did/did not put into my mouth during my pregnancy.

Aww, don't worry, it wasn't even alive yet!  

I understand that everyone has a different idea for when life starts, but besides that, this statement just drives me nuts. It makes me feel silly and stupid for grieving, like my sorrow and sadness are trivial and do not matter. Even if you think life starts at a different time then at conception, realize that to me this baby was a potential life, a life that was wanted, dreamed about and greatly anticipated. Now it will never be and it's perfectly reasonable to grieve over the loss.   

Did you know ______ can cause a miscarriage?

Yes I am aware that there is a mile long list of items that you are not supposed to eat when pregnant. And yes, it is none of your business trying to pinpoint what items I may have consumed, or even if they might have affected me in any negative ways. Also, asking if I exercised or rode a motorcycle also does not apply.

-----------

I know that most these questions come from individuals with good hearts that are just trying to help, or that people are just curious, but to be honest these statements mostly bewilder me! What do you think? Also, I'm not trying to point figures at anyone--I know it can be hard to think of something to say! I've never had an online friend say any of the above, but in real life I guess people can be more judgmental!

Stars on my Legs

When I'm having a hard day, these leggings make me smile. I love wearing them. I'm not sure why--but they are just so unique and fun and colorful, and so me that I can't help get over whatever trivial, first-world thing that was previously bothering me.

The flowers are in full bloom here as well. Aren't they lovely? Sometimes I'm very glad Earth does not have man-eating plants that disguise themselves with pretty blossoms, because I'd be the first to get eaten. For real.

The thing I've been struggling with lately is shame. Shame over, well, three failed baby attempts so far. But then I realize that I don't need to and should not feel shame over this. I have no control over what my body is doing. Yes, I try to take care of it, but it can make decisions without me. I also have no control over how certain parts of society might view me. But I can view myself the right way. Yes, I want kids. But an inability to have them does not make me somehow less of a person. Anyone that thinks that is wrong. I am wrong for thinking that.

So I want to throw off the shame by taking about it! Yes, I've had three miscarriages. Yes, I'm struggling, Yes this is hard and not fun and weird. But it isn't shameful. And it shouldn't be! No matter if I have five or zero kids, no matter if they are biological or adopted or fostered-- I have nothing to be humiliated about. And I want to live that way.

Last week I told someone in my bible study about my miscarriages, and the first thing she asked was how I could just talk about it so nonchalantly! I told her that while I am sad, I want to bring awareness to the issue and help other women who have gone through the same thing. No one talks about miscarriage (at least not in my church) yet so many women have had one! I noticed when I mentioned it everyone looked at the ground. I suppose they might not have known what to say to me, but this struck my heart as a weird reaction. Like I was mentioning a taboo topic. I don't want my struggle to be a scandalous subject to bring up in conversation. It's a medical condition, not a label, and shouldn't have any negativity attached to it.

Besides that, I always feel welcomed in my bible study. It's wonderful to have a place to talk about my current and past struggles, and to help others. I am blessed to have such a wonderful group of women to mentor me, and I know none of them judge me at all. I really do love them--I know that any awkwardness I may perceive in them is just that--awkwardness--as we all strive to love each other more.

Hmm, so, how are you guys doing? I have a doctors appointment about my uterus soon and to be honest I'm terrified. They are going to poke me (draw blood) and I know I'm going to freak out. At least my husband will be there! (hopefully...)

Perhaps I'll wear these awesome leggings to my appointment, in hope that they will calm me down.

Depression and Miscarriage

I want to be completely and totally honest with you.

I never suffered from depression. Well, for my first 25 years.

I say this only because recently I've become more aware of just how prevalent depression is. I read a few blog posts about it from my favorite bloggers, many who I would never have thought would be dealing with something like that--but who actually battle depression on a regular basis.

Please forgive me, but I used to think depression was basically a nothing disease. What I mean by that is that I equated "depression" with "sadness". Or rather, with "choosing to be sad". I've been sad before. I don't stay sad long; I'm a really cheerful person and I know how to cheer myself up when I've feeling down. I go out with a friend, read a good book, snuggle with my husband...all three of these things lift my spirits, and dissipate my sadness.

But sadness is not depression. They are not the same, through I know when you are depressed you can be sad. I'm done thinking this way, although I think it is a common misconception.

I learned the difference between sadness and depression when I suffered my first miscarriage with my husband. About two months after that happened, my hormone levels plummeted and I became severely depressed.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. I would wake up and not want to get out of bed. The littlest thing would make me cry. I would cry and cry for hours and not know how to stop. I couldn't cheer myself up. I was just sad--even through I knew in my head that I didn't have any reasons to be so down (I mean, I am financially stable, have food, clothes, am married to an amazing man, have a awesome family and friends...) There was just no reason to cry so much! My feelings didn't make any sense to me. I couldn't cook, and I didn't even want to to get dressed in the morning. I went from silent and moody to bawling and back again 6 times an hour.

During this time I bought lots of things on the internet, because it would make me feel better for a few moments. I also lost myself in books, reading one or two a day, because it would make me forget who I was and be someone else. I wasn't reading for enjoyment or to cheer myself up--I was reading in pure desperation, to get so lost in something so my own sorrow couldn't touch me. When I finished a book I would cry and feel so listless because that world was done, and I couldn't get lost in it anymore, I had to come back and be me.

This lasted two weeks until one day I just woke up and it was like--like I could see again. I explained to my husband in this way: the world suddenly had color. I suddenly noticed it was there. It was still the same world, but before I couldn't see it at all.

I know two weeks isn't very long to suffer from depression, but to me it felt like forever. I was literally a different person.

It was really shocking to wake up like that. When my depression ebbed, I was still sad---but instead of controlling and overwhelming my entire person, my melancholy was now just a tiny part of my heart. Like thinning fog. Like waking up from a bad dream. I was still sad, but I could move. I could feel the tears, but now I could hold them back--when before I couldn't no matter how hard I tried.

I don't quite know how to explain it.

When my second miscarriage happened, I was really worried about becoming depressed again. I didn't want to put myself, or my husband through it.

But miscarriage effects your hormones. I knew it was going to happen. I prepared for it.

But, this time the depression is different. I don't know if any of you have ever been depressed in such a way where you felt detached from reality? Like, your on the phone with a friend, hearing her talk, hearing yourself respond, but feeling nothing? And feeling like you are watching yourself. I catch myself wondering if people can see that I'm faking emotions, faking being there? Because I don't feel like I'm here.

I just feel like a big lump right now. I'm not depressed in the way where I'm crying all the time. But I am depressed. I feel like my friends who hang out with me are just doing me a favor because they feel sorry for me (I know, in my head this isn't true. But my emotions are telling me this). I feel, many times, when others around me are connecting and speaking to each other--extremely detached and bewildered/ unsure how to respond. I don't know how to speak human.

It's was really annoying, but like the last time, my hormones straightened themselves out and, for lack of a better term, I'm back in my own body now.

If you've had a miscarriage--realize you are not alone.  And also know that losing a pregnancy can seriously affect your hormone levels. Depression is not uncommon after a miscarriage. Be aware! And get help. Because you will need it. I did, and I'm not ashamed of that in the least.

Grief

Last week I received confirmation that I'd lost another pregnancy.

In the following days I've wrestled with sadness, grief, depression, anxiety...

I mean, first of all, it is hard to grieve publicly for my baby because many of my friends and family were unaware of my pregnancy. Since I previously have had two miscarriages, we decided to wait as long as possible before telling anyone. I only told a few close friends and my immediate family.

Another struggle I've been having is how absurd I feel even mourning my lost child. I'm not quite sure how to put this into words. My baby only lived a little over three months. I never heard her first words. I never helped her put on socks, or nursed her, or even felt her move. What right do I have to grieve when all over the earth children are dying in their mothers arms? Sometimes my sadness just feels trivial, say, to the mother who lost her 6 year old to cancer or the family whose only son was killed by a drunk driver.

But I know that my pain does have a place in this world, and that it is something I have to work through. It's not trivial, it's just a different kind of pain. I wish I'd had the chance to meet my baby.

For some reason this miscarriage has been harder. Maybe because its my third one, maybe because it went a little longer then the others, or maybe because I am just getting older? That's not to say I wasn't sad with my other miscarriages, because I was. But this time around I experienced an emotion I've never associated with miscarriage before: Shame.

Yes, I felt ashamed. Why did my body expel this child I wanted so much? Was it something I did? What is wrong with me? At first I didn't want to tell anyone, because I was terrified it would somehow change the way they saw me.

Perhaps my fear was brought on by the roller coaster of hormone spikes that come with miscarriages, or perhaps it was a deeper heart issue--but all I know is that I wallowed in my humiliation for awhile, before surfacing from my ocean of shame to began my swim to solid ground and healing once again.

This miscarriage was not my fault. I eat impeccably well. I don't smoke, I barely drink (and stopped completely once the Mr. and I started "trying"). This is not my fault. Sure, something anatomically might be wrong with my body, but nothing is wrong with me. And I have nothing to be ashamed of. Many women suffer with infertility and I would never think any less of them, so why would I ascribe that status to myself?

This is no longer the 18th or 19th century, where the worth of a women was measured from her beauty and her offspring. Nor should a women, no matter what century, be measured that way. So I definitely shouldn't measure myself this way! And I won't.

I still wonder if I'll ever experience being a mother. But I know I'm not going to let my pain or grief get in the way of enjoying my marriage and my life as a wife, blogger, seamstress and knitter to the fullest. No matter what happens. 

The Ability to Reproduce

Recently I've been reading a lot about pregnancy. Many of my online friends are getting ready to welcome their little ones into the world, and their blogs are full of hopes and dreams and tips on how to stay thin and loose postpartum weight while juggling their dimpled newborn. And I'm happy for them. So happy it hurts sometimes, because I'm a little jealous too.

You see, I really want to have a baby. I've wanted Brian's baby ever since I spied him across the coffee shop, where we met for the first time. Odd feeling. I thought, because until that moment I'd never wanted babies. Even in previous relationships, I really wasn't interested in procreating. Ever. 

But after marriage, I felt for the first time financially and emotionally ready to start a family. I couldn't wait for those two little lines!

Our Wedding Day

I thought it was easy. Get married. Have unprotected sex. Boom. Baby. At least, that's what they always tell you in high school. It just takes one time, girl, one time.

It doesn't help that every woman in my family has achieved pregnancy with a drop of the hat. I've been thinking about dropping hats for months and still, nothing.

I'll be honest, I used to look at people who were dealing with infertility or complications with pregnancy with mild sadness and a large helping of relief. Oh-I'm-so glad-that-will-never-happen-to-me. But, it is happening. Because it has almost been a year, and I'm not pregnant yet.

The past 8 months or so, I've struggled with questions like

Why do I feel so ashamed?  
Is there something wrong with me?
Why isn't this working?
Maybe this month I'll be pregnant?

I even have the names picked out. For a girl, Larkin Elizabeth. For a boy, Sage Alan.

To make it even more complicated, last night I saw this on Pinterest: “You haven’t really lived until you’ve tucked your kids in.” What? I thought, to myself, Maybe I'll never know what that joy feels like.

It’s hard to ignore the fact that there’s a whole segment of the online population categorized as “mommy bloggers," and not feel like I'm missing out on something. And, as a young married women, it's beyond annoying when people ask me when I'm going to have kids. What do I say? We are trying, but nothing is happening? We want kids? Maybe later? Mind your own business?

To be honest, I'm a bit angry over all these expectations and feelings. Because not every family has to have children in order to be complete. Contrary to that pin, you can live a full and abundant life without ever tucking anything into a bed. On the other hand, I need to realize that everyone with a kid is not pointing the proverbial finger at me. It's just a fact of life that some people can have kids and some people can not. No one is judging anyone, and nor should we.

If you are struggling with infertility, I have some things to say to you. First of all, its not the end of the world. When I started researching infertility, I found a ton of blogs where women talk about themselves as if the entire world is over because they cannot grow a child in their uterus. They say things like "I've failed as a women," and "My life will never be complete." Yes, I understand that when you want to have a baby, the inability to produce one is sad. But it is not the end of the world. You shouldn't feel bad or ashamed about something you have no control over. You are still a complete person. While their might be something biologically wrong with you, there is nothing wrong with YOU.

The fact that you can't have kids should NEVER stop you from living life to your fullest! Do you hear me? Go out and dream other dreams! Live other lives! Don't obsesses that you might never have a biological child. IT'S OKAY! Really. And don't let this tear apart the relationship between you and your husband.

One of the things I've learned is to never make sex completely and totally about having a baby. Sure, its okay to plan and its okay to have sex in order to have a baby--what I'm saying is, don't lose the romance. Don't lose the spontaneity, the fun, the passion! The most annoying thing I think I can hear is "well, I guess we should have sex, since you might be ovulating"--or, "I hope this time I/you can get pregnant", or (after another month of Aunt Flo) "all that sex was for nothing!" Sex with the love of your life is never for nothing, and it should never be just a tool used for having a baby. Don't bring expectations into your sex life--keep that intimacy free of worry and fear so that you still have a place to totally open and at peace with each other.

we so silly!

I realize that a year of infertility and a few miscarriages are nothing compared to many other heartbreaking stories I've heard. I have not been to the doctor yet about my struggle, but I do plan on going. I want to try to have a family, and I'm determined to rejoice, no matter what the outcome. So what, I can't have kids? I will focus on the fact that I am still alive, breathing, creating and knitting and living.

Sometimes I think that perhaps I am destined for a different fortune--a different kind of life then the normal "have 2.5 kids work, retire, and die". I am determined to be excited no matter what happens. Having kids isn't the only way to live. This life, these dreams I have--this is my adventure, and I won't squander it just because I happen to have a few unfulfilled expectations along the way. Instead, I will change my focus, blaze a new field, and keep learning, dreaming, and trying to be who God made me to be. Because, as a christian women, I'm going to trust God completely with my life, kids or no kids.

I'm not going to spend my years thinking I've failed. I'm going to live with no regrets. Will you?

To read all my posts about infertility, click here!