Even "Medical Miracles" Take a Little Time

On Saturday I got a HUGE and EXPENSIVE package in the mail.

And I kinda hate it.

I know I am supposed to be in awe of the marvels of medical technology and the wonderful, miraculous opportunity we have to possibly get pregnant through IVF...but right now it just looks like a lot of needles.

Needles I have to inject into myself or Nick has to inject into me.

Neither of us are qualified medical professionals, so what the heck?!

Of course I knew this was part of the process, but that big box made it all very real. During our first go around at fertility treatments, before we decided to go the adoption route, included my fair share of needles -- both injecting and withdrawing. There were a lot of pills, a lot of mood swings, and a lot of disappointments.

Maybe that's my real problem. I have no faith in this method of getting kids. I have faith in God and His plan for our family and that this is the route we should be taking. He has proved Himself time and time again and I absolutely trust God to take care of my family and to get my kids here.

However, I have no faith in injectable fertility medications. I have buckets of faith in adoption! The child-acquiring score as it stands now:

Adoption: 2                              Fertility Treatments: 0

That's a blow out in a World Cup match!

Pulling out each individual medication box and each large bag of needles and alcohol swabs (so many swabs!) was like a little punch in my gut reminding me that my body doesn't work the way I want it to and so I have to use all of these "medical miracles" to get our next little miracle.

I thought I had accepted my infertility, but it's always there, and this month it's going to be yelling at me everyday in the form of a needle or Metformin pills every morning and night.

Sidenote: I've decided that "inject" is such an angry and gross word. Ugh!

I almost hate that I know this is the right thing for our family, because outherwise it would be so easy to throw in the towel and quit.

Honestly I wish I could say that my pity party is all done and it's going to be all smiles from now on, but I can't. Sometimes you just kind of have to stand with your toes together and lean on a counter so your husband inject some hormones at the base of your back. And there's no way I'm smiling through that!

But here's the silver-lining:

1. This is right, and we know it.
2. Nick will let me eat all the ice cream I want through this process -- and he'll hold my hand through every gut-wrenching moment! I can do this with him.
3. God has plenty of miracles waiting for our family because we want to do what is right.
4. One of my medications is used to treat the advanced stages of prostate cancer, so that's fun!

Sometimes. . .

2006 . . . Sometimes you just need a classic throwback picture.

Sometimes blogging about hard things doesn't make them easier or help you vent or releases negative energy.

Sometimes it just perpetuates negative energy and gives focus to things you'd rather not focus on.

I'm not saying that's why I haven't been blogging much, but I am saying that's sometimes why I choose to withhold a post.

Sometimes blogging is for me, sometimes it's for my children, sometimes it's for our family that is so far away...and sometimes not blogging is the best for everyone.

So no more apologies. No more guilt. I am doing the best I can, and tomorrow I'm going to try to do better than I did today. And that may include a post, or five, or it may not.

Sometimes you just have to accept that you can't do everything you want to do, and you have to make a choice as to what you can do.

There is healing in accepting that sometimes you're not all that you want or hope to be, but maybe you will be someday. And I will try to post when I can, but mostly when I feel inspired.

Because when I feel inspired to write to you, my reading public, I feel more hope than guilt and more acceptance than judgement.

So for those times when your nearly tangible, metaphysical presence heals my heart, thank you. And I hope to be able to thank you more adequately in the future . . . sometime.

Happiness in Every Footstep

I just went into Blogger to edit the post I started Monday. Wanna know what I saw?

Seven.

Seven unfinished posts, and assuming Alexa wakes up before this gets posted (which is almost a guaranteed certainty), this is the eighth post I've started and not posted since August 12th. Let me tell you why.

Ya know what's hard? Moving. Ya know what's harder? Moving and then your kids getting sick. Ya know what's even harder? Moving with sick kiddos and PMSing. Ya know what's even harder than that?? Moving with sick kiddos, catching what they got, PMSing, and NOT KNOWING you're PMSing! (So I go around crying and laughing like a maniac...)

Thank you Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome.

Honestly, it's been a little bit of a tough move for me. Everyone else seems to be handling it well, but I've been really missing my Colorado friends and life there. Everythin is just a little different here, like they want to put green chillies on everything and there are no descent radio stations.

So, I have 7 unfinished posts because I wanted to share my excitement about our new life in New Mexico, but I'm not there yet, and I didn't want to bum everyone out.

Don't get me wrong -- the people here are great, I love my family, our rental house/landlords are great (and no one lives above us). In fact I have told a number of people that I'm just not going to be bummed anymore. Done. I quit being sad.

It's apparently not that easy sometimes. Which is a bummer.

Which doesn't help me feel better at all. It's a tough cycle.

I've been avoiding the word "depressed" (the d-word) because then I just feel defeated by my own emotions. Which is frustrating! Especially when my life is so good! Really, I'm so blessed!

It was when I was talking to my sister Cindy that I said the d-word too many times and tried correcting myself...again...that she put her foot down and said "Rachel, you've gone through a lot! It's okay to feel depressed! You'll get out of it, it's just hard right now!"

Cindy's right. I like her. Someone else who is also right is Dieter F. Uchtdorf, an apostle of God.

There will always be things to complain about -- things that don't seem to go quite right. You can spend your days feeling sad, alone, misunderstood, or unwanted. (How did he know I feel all those things?) But that isn't the journey you had hoped for, and it's not the journey Heavenly Father sent you to take. Remember, you are truly a daughter of God! With this in mind, I invite you to walk confidently and joyfully. Yes, the road has bumps and detours and even some hazards. But don't focus on them. Look for the happiness your Father in Heaven has prepared for you in every step of your journey. Happiness is the destination, but it's also the path.

So that's my plan. Turning off sadness is tough -- trickier than I thought -- but I don't have to focus on those things that aren't just right. Of course things will get better, they always do. In the meantime, I'm going to accentuate the positives! Starting with my adorable kids!

I'll post more often, I promise! And I'll be posting pics of our new place as soon as the tile situation in the dining room is taken care of.

***Update: Alexa didn't wake up. She likes to keep me on my toes.***

Why I Hate Cancer (Reason #3,872)

Subtitle: Why I Love Open Adoption (Reason #1,590)

Back in August we got to meet for the first time Melissa's mom, Alexa's birth-grandma. On Saturday we got to see Alexa's birth-grandpa, Ray's dad, for the first time since nearly two-years ago.

 

The only picture we have of Alexa and Ray's dad when she was born.

He was at the hospital when Alexa was born, but lives in Las Vegas so we haven't seen him since. Recently he's moved to Denver because, well, he has cancer.

Alexa with 3 of the most important men in her life.

He has Stage 4 Brain Cancer that has moved into his esophagus making it difficult to eat. So after visiting for a while on Saturday, we went to Fazoli's because they serve soup and that goes down pretty easily. While sitting there he talked with me about his ambitions.

Nick and Alexa playing with Ray and Melissa's cat, Simon.

"I'm going to run again. I have to get strong so I can run again." As long as I live, I don't think I'll ever forget those words. Here's a few reasons why...

Ray's dad is short, has a small frame, has olive skin, is bald, wears glasses, runs (a lot), served in the military, and is very happy quietly watching his family grow.

My dad is short, has a small frame, has olive skin, is bald, wears glasses, runs (a lot), served in the military, and is very happy quietly watching his family grow.

I kid you not, their similarities are uncanny! When I was listening to him speak about how he was going to work hard so he could run and be strong again it was like listening to my own father speak about overcoming cancer if he were ever plagued with that illness.

Some people may call this a coincidence, but I don't believe for a second that Alexa has two grandfather's that share so many wonderful qualities. What a blessed little girl she is! How blessed we all are!

As a beautiful gesture, on Saturday Ray and his father presented Alexa with all of her grandfather's war medals from when he served in Vietnam.

Our hearts overflowed with gratitude! He has other grandchildren who could have received those beautiful medals, but he gave them to Alexa. That memory and those medals are priceless!

How blessed our family is because of open adoption!

And cancer is really stupid.

In Your Patience You Posess Your Souls

“Patience means accepting that which cannot be changed and facing it with courage, grace, and faith. It means being 'willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon [us], even as a child doth submit to his father.' Ultimately, patience means being 'firm and steadfast, and immovable in keeping the commandments of the Lord'  every hour of every day, even when it is hard to do so.”  President Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Continue in Patience, emphasis added

Thursday was one of those times that was really hard to be firm and steadfast, only because waiting for good things is just not fun sometimes.

So today I will make the situation I cannot change better through gratitude and work. That is my goal today: to lose myself in work and service and to express my gratitude for all that I have, both to God and those people around me.

I will begin by saying Thank You to Ray and Melissa, because they brought me this moment during a walk Alexa and I took recently.

Every moment I have with her is because of you, so thank you for this particular one! My heart is always full of gratitude for you both and the decision you made nearly 2-years ago! I am a mom because they had the love, faith, and courage to do what they knew was right for their daughter. Words cannot express my heart...

Last night in my prayers I recommitted myself to prepare for the arrival of our next child. When I have the opportunity to be a mother of two, I want to be ready for it! If in my patience I posses my soul, I hope that all this patient preparation I am doing is refining my soul into the person the Lord needs me to become. 

Sometimes there are Thursdays, days when you'd give up if you could, but you have no choice but to continue in patience. But today is Tuesday, and today I am going to do all I can to possess my soul through this time of necessary patience!

C'mon Next Little Miracle! Mommy Misses You!

I admit it, right now, at this very moment, my heart is sad. I love Alexa more than I can say and I am completely in love with Nicholas and cannot express how much meaning and light he brings into my life.

But right now I am really missing our next little miracle. I want to make him/her a little stocking for Christmas and fill it with wonderful little Bambino goodies! I want to hold our little Sneetch and cuddle with him/her with one hand and type a completely different post right now with my other hand.

I want Alexa to love and dote upon her little sibling. She is going to be SUCH a good sister...and a little ornery for sure, but that's to be expected.

I want Nick to have a little boy buddy or to be swarmed in a house full of girls! He is SUCH a wonderful father and any child would be so blessed to have him as their Dad-dad!

Recently when a friend has shared their happy pregnancy news or even their happy adoption news (which I usually get more excited about, even when my heart is hurting a bit), I still feel happy, but then an immediate aching begins. My heart gets so confused at those moments.

I know we've only been approved for the second time since August, but I can't tell you how many times I have wished that the unknown number on my phone was a potential birthmom. Really, it's every time. I know we are probably only at the very beginning of our journey to our little Sneetch and we have a long way to go, but that knowledge does not help me temper my emotions at all.

In fact, none of the blessings I have mentioned help ease the aching or homesick feeling I get when all I want are my babies to be with me. I can wait until it's right, but I wish that the right time comes very soon...and that wish and the thoughts and feelings that accompany it make my heart ache so much!

I think I thought this go around would be easier, just because we've done it before and are used to wanting our children with us. We're infertility veterans, so I just assumed I'd be able to deal with this aching better over time. I suppose in some ways it definitely is easier because I know adoption works and that is extremely comforting. I don't want to discount how much I trust the adoption process and the Lord's timing in putting our family together and how much easier that knowledge makes this adoption experience easier.

It's also easier because Alexa is here and being a Mom at all is such a blessing...one I wasn't sure I'd have during the first time adopting. How grateful I am to be a Mom!

But the heartaches are not easier, and the longing for my babies who aren't here is not easier. And the increased longing I feel around the holidays is not easier.

So this rambling post is just a plea to the world wide web...because where else can I make this plea that makes anymore sense? My plea is this:

Hey next little Miracle, our little Sneetch! Please come to our family soon! Your Mommy misses you and wants you home! And bring your birth-family with you, because we miss them, too! I love you more than I even know or can understand, and so does your Dad-dad and sister! See you soon, kiddo!

Piglet's Adoption Story, Part 4 (The Finale)

...My little girl had just been born!

 That was early Friday morning, and the next few days in the hospital were a bit of a blur. A blissfully wonderful blur full of holding, swaying, feeding, swooning, smiling, singing, and healing. We met Ray's dad and son, Bjorn, and some of Ray and Melissa's friends came to meet us and offer their love and support. That part of the experience was faith-inspiring and left both Nick and I in awe of the responsibilities we now had as Alexa's parents.

Alexa's half-brother, Bjorn, and Alexa in the hospital. He bought her booties and a necklace.

Ray left for scout camp on Saturday, and so Saturday night Nick was able to have Alexa in our room to love and feed and I spent the night in Melissa's room to give her a shoulder to cry on or a friend's ear to talk in if she needed it. There was so much love between each of our families one to another at that time. And because of a beautiful baby girl, we were all very much united as a family. Just as we always should have been.

Ray and Melissa with Alexa before Ray left for scout camp.

On Sunday we were allowed to go home, and placement was done in early afternoon. It was awful. I think I expected it to be exciting, and maybe I was a little excited, but the excitement really didn't set in until we were driving away from the hospital. Up until then all of our hearts were breaking. Watching Melissa cry and knowing there was a very simple way I could mend her aching, and yet it was not my decision to make, was just awful! As we walked out of the hospital doors, and both Nick and I both hugged Melissa. As she and I hugged, between sobs she whispered in my ear "Don't let me take her back tomorrow." I reassured her that this was the right decision and that overtime things would get better. I hugged her again, and we all went our separate ways. Finally to our home with our daughter in the back seat.

Melissa and our case worker with Alexa right before placement.

That night Nick ran over to Wal-Mart to get "burp cloths" (cheap wash cloths that we now use as rags) and a crib. It was a late night, but Alexa and I enjoyed watching dad put her bed together as his first official Daddy project. We all went to sleep in our respective beds and woke up many times for feedings, relishing every moment. 

Daddy putting the crib together, and Alexa using it for the first time.

Monday morning Nick had to go to work for just a couple of hours, so Alexa and I stayed home, where I just held her, didn't shower, and talked with friends and family on the phone. I think it was about 10am when I got a call from Nick, and as I type this my heart is just starting to pound a little. He told me Melissa changed her mind and had sent us a text that simply said "I want my baby back." My legs went numb and I slid my back down the wall and collapsed holding my daughter as tight as possible. This couldn't be possible!

And yet it was. We called our case worker in a panic and he made his way down to Ray and Melissa's home to discuss the repercussions of this decision. And so we waited. We waited to hear from him until 9pm that night, all the while hoping for the best and trying to avoid our thoughts from thinking the worst. We sat on the couch and watched a movie that we would feel good about never watching again if things went poorly: Nova's Ancient Refuge in the Holy Land. Oh yes, we also prayed. We prayed constantly! Out-loud, in silence, and on the phone with family. My goodness did we pour our hearts out to our God on that day, more than I ever had before or have since.

{Sorry, not a lot of pictures from this day. As you can probably imagine, it wasn't a day we really wanted to capture in photos.}

When we did get our case worker's phone call, he was somber and very tired. He told us she had not changed her mind and that we were to meet at his office at 10am Tuesday morning to hand over our daughter so he could return her to Melissa. Our hearts broke - it felt almost literally. We decided that on our last night together we would do everything we had dreamed of doing with Alexa that we could do with an infant. We read every book we treasured with her (ie. The Sneetches, The Lorax, Pat the Bunny, etc.), we told her every family/funny story we could think of, and we sang every song that we thought she might like. Once we were all too tired to stay awake any longer, we went to bed, but this night we couldn't bear to let her sleep alone...or maybe we couldn't bear to be without her for any longer than was necessary. Yeah, that's definitely it.

It's hard to describe how the following morning went in our home. We were quiet, constant tears were being shed, and heartfelt silent prayers were being offered without ceasing. Nick offered a special prayer, a Father's blessing, for Alexa that morning, as she was soon to leave our hands and we'd probably never see her again. We wrote a letter to Ray and Melissa expressing our love for them and for Alexa. We put that note in a bag full of things they would need: diapers, clothes, bottles, etc. We also decided that if this was going to be the last memory Alexa would have with us, we wanted it to be a positive one. If by some miracle she were to remember us, we wanted her to remember us as strong, loving, and happy people. So, we put our best foot forward by dressing our best and left for the adoption agency.

One last picture with Alexa, and one last one of her in her carseat. Doesn't Nick's face break your heart?

We arrived at 9:45, and we drove as slow as slow as humanly possible. Our case worker said that was the first time anyone ever arrived to a placement reversal early, so he gave us some time with Alexa. He said we could have all the time we wanted, and so we suggested driving until we got to Mexico. In our last moments with Alexa, I gave her a kiss while she was still in her carseat, but I didn't want to hold her again. It was too much. Nick wanted to hold her one last time before handing her to our case worker and then walking away. So he did - and he sobbed. And so I sobbed. And our case worker checked his phone (??)...because he had just received a text message.

From Melissa.

It said something along the lines that she had made a mistake and that Alexa should stay with us! Of course that all had to be confirmed, but after about 20 minutes of not breathing and being confused as all get out, our case worker came back in the room. (Nick and I decided that feeling must be what insanity is like. We were just so emotionally, physically, and spiritually exhausted and the ups and downs were just too high and too low to have life make any sense at all. That's insanity.) Our case worker held his phone up to me to read it...and the screen had turned dark! 

OH MY GOSH!! One more second of not knowing and my heart could have exploded!

Okay, so once I could read the message, it was from Melissa and it said that she meant what she had texted before and that she was wrong in asking for Alexa back. She belonged in our family.

Readers, I have lived a life of faith and spirituality, and I may live a hundred more years and never witness a miracle as blatantly obvious as I did on that February morning.

Nick and I decided to not call or tell anyone until the relinquishment paperwork had been filed with the court, so we waited for our case worker to draw up the paperwork, we drove with him to the court house, waited for him to come out after filing, and then on the way home began calling family members (who were all crying when we spoke with them). We were driving home, once again, with our little girl in the back seat.

Only this time it was permanent.

And suddenly we got very hungry (we realized we hadn't really eaten an actual meal in about 20 hours), so we pit stopped at Little Caesar's for a Hot n' Ready pizza. We now look back on those 24 hours, when we we must think of them, as the most challenging of our life. It's also the day I think of that when I forget how blessed I am to be ALexa's mom. Nick and I wanted this life enough to fight so hard for it. We would have done anything to keep Alexa in our family that day, and everyday since then. 

At the end of those awful 24 hours. So tired but so happy.

It's hard to imagine we maybe setting ourselves up for that type of craziness again...but it's so easy to see now that every pain and tear and prayer was more than worth it.  

Our family sealed together for time and all eternity: October 8, 2011

***I want to take this moment to be perfectly clear that we harbor no ill-feelings towards Melissa or Ray or anyone for anything that happened during those awful 24 hours. They made us stronger as a family and deepened our conviction that adoption was/is the right thing for our family more than anything else ever could. They strengthened our faith in God, in our family, and in the power of prayer. As hard as they were, I wouldn't trade them for anything...especially since I now know the outcome is awesome!***

Meetings and Partings

"Life is full of meetings and partings. That is the way of it."

-Bob Cratchit

(Meeting) This morning at 5:22am we gained a beautiful new niece, Lauren! So happy to have her here on earth and in our family!

(Parting) Last night, a young woman in our church congregation was killed in a car accident. She was 16 years old. She wasn't terribly active in the church, but a door was opening in her life and heart for Christ to enter in. I only hope that today she entered into the peace of her Savior, and that her family is finding peace in their hearts in this difficult time.

Days like today I find solace in thoughts of much wiser men than I, like William Wordsworth:

Hence in a season of calm weather Though inland far we be, Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither, Can in a moment travel thither, And see the Children sport upon the shore, And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. The Clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won.

Thanks to the human heart by which we live,

Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,

To me the meanest flower that blows can give

Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears

Maybe we should have a little more patience and hug our children a little tighter today. I know I will. Each day holds within it the potential for triumph and tragedy, and through it all we can turn to our Savior for love and peace.

Also, for those who are remembering the tragedies of 11 years ago, may peace be with you this day and always.

I know I promised the conclusion of Alexa's adoption story, but that will come tomorrow. Thanks for indulging me a bit today.

Mourning My Fertile Life

I think this is the third time I've started this post, because I've had the feelings and thoughts but have been unsure how to form them coherently.

That was until I watched this video (again) and realized that sometimes I, like NieNie, mourn for the loss of the woman I thought I was going to become. By now I thought I was going to be a young mom with 4 kids under the age of 6 with one on the way and planning on having at least 2-3 more. I wanted to have that beautiful family of young children causing raucous during church with my hair frazzled and exhausted at days end because I had worked so hard at being a pregnant mom trying to wrangle my small but growing family. That woman I imagined had been bred for motherhood glory, endowed with child-bearing hips and so many babysitting opportunities in her youth it would make anyone's head spin! She was everything every other mom looked to as a pillar of strength because she fulfilled all her responsibilities with her young family and still served others willingly and faithfully and kept her home cute and beautiful. Her life was far too perfect to be actually real for anyone to be living. It was unrealistic, sure, but in some sense plausible.

Occasionally, more often as we go through adoption paperwork, I mourn over the loss of that once idealistic scenario of mine. That picture in my head of that woman I thought I would become fades with every passing day that I am not pregnant or not adopting another child. I do--I really mourn that woman because I know she will never exist. At least not how I pictured her...not how I pictured myself and my life and my family. Many tears have been shed over her, and many more are still to come, I'm certain of that.

I am already 25, almost 26, and have only one baby and there are currently 4 exposed nails pounded into my walls where frames have been removed and nothing has replaced them. The mother and homemaker at one time I thought I would be at this point is a fantasy, and sometimes when I linger on that fantasy I forget about the fantastical life I do have.

My husband is a wonderful provider, financially, spiritually, emotionally, et cetera-ly for our family. He loves me and we just celebrated a wonderful 6th anniversary together this past Saturday.

My daughter is a miracle in our family placed with us for time and eternity by two wonderfully amazing parents who love her as much as Nick and I do. Not many parents have people in their children's lives that love their children as much as they do, but our children do/will.

I had the opportunity to get an advanced education where learned so many fascinating things, but mostly that I am capable of doing things I never thought I could. In that vision I had of myself in the past, I never ever was doing data analysis and really enjoying my work. That wasn't my "area" of skill or interest.

I think perhaps the thing I am most grateful for that I could not have ever guessed as a younger woman was that I would eventually be so incredibly grateful for the trial of infertility as much I am today. How could I have known that the experiences related to my greatest trial (so far) would shape my faith and the way I serve others and the compassion I have for others and the love I have for my husband and daughter so abundantly that I can't imagine my life without those experiences? And why would I want to?

I  have such a wonderful life and I am blessed everyday to be living in it! Sometimes thoughts of that once-fantasy life creeps in my mind and I once again take a moment to mourn the loss of that young mother who has it all and can grow her family whenever she wants. Sure those thoughts come, and I honestly don't want those thoughts to ever go away completely. While the specifics can't be as I thought they would be, the happy home and family I imagined certainly can be. That vision, while different, is a lot closer and more attainable than I sometimes think it is. And those visions I receive of that version of me who has "it all" keeps me striving for "it all" (as much as I can control) in my current circumstance.

And even if I never have another child, or a dog, or a home that is the envy of the neighborhood, I still have such a beautiful life! And I am grateful for it everyday!

I honestly wouldn't change a thing...except for maybe those exposed nails on the wall. Something must be done there. 

Music Monday

Today Alexa and I are in Arizona attending the funeral services of Nick's Uncle Jamie. A wonderful man who will be missed deeply! This song has been on my mind since his death, and I find peace in knowing that Jamie is no longer entrapped by the limitations of his mortal body and is rejoicing in the presence of his God.

Amazing Grace, LeAnn Rimes

Not Great, but Okay

Why is the word "died" so hard to say? When we found out about Uncle Jamie's death, the email said he "passed away," and as I relayed the message to close friends, I said the same. This morning while talking with a new friend I asked her about her kids. She has a son who died of SIDS at 6 months old, and she said "he...ya know...he would have been 2 years old."  And even if someone does manage to get the word through their lips, doesn't it always seem like they're choking on it a bit?

Maybe because the word is so short. Harsh. Permanent. Maybe because the term "passed away" lingers for a moment, so does the memory of the person in our minds and hearts. I honestly don't know.

Uncle Jamie playing softball with his daughters last summer.

Another new friend came over for dinner on Sunday night. His father died two years ago, his younger brother died when he was 18, and my friend had an older brother die in his crib before my friend was born. Let me tell you, my friend throws around the words "he died" like he would say "he took out the garbage." At first I was thrown off by his casualness, but my friend was not being casual in his regard for his dad and brothers, he's comfortable with their situation.

They're dead, and that's okay. Not ideal for my friend, but okay. And it's okay to say that they're dead, just as it's okay, and accurate, to say we are alive.

Of course I don't mean to be flippant towards the individual grieving process, but while dying is sometimes tragic and difficult, death itself does not have to be. There is hope and glory in death, and that's okay. It's not easy for us who must temporarily lose a loved one, but it's okay.

For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself.

For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord: whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord’s.

For to this end Christ both died, and rose, and revived, that he might be Lord both of the dead and living.

Romans 14:7-9 (emphasis added)

So, since I intend to practice what I preach...

My Uncle Jamie died on Saturday, and I will miss him, and it pains me knowing his wife, daughters, and grandchildren have to live the remainder of their time on this earth without him. My nephew Sam also died, and my heart still aches for him. And that's okay. Not great, but okay.

Music Monday

I'll Fly Away by Kanye West

Nick's Uncle Jamie passed away from skin cancer on Saturday. Alexa and I are lucky to be able to fly out to Arizona for his funeral next week. He will surely be missed here, but we find hope and peace in knowing he is with his Savior and reunited with some of his loved ones who have flown away before him. Our thoughts and prayers are with his wife, daughters, and grandchildren.

Stopping by Suburbs on a Snowy Morning

After it snowed 7 inches Tuesday night, this morning I decided to stay in my sweats all day and during Alexa's nap read poetry. It was bliss (even though I paid for it in overdue blog posts and housework today)!

Additionally, it's National Adoption Month! Hurrah! One poem I read seemed to speak to all those who embark in the adoption journey in any fashion. And so, I dedicate this read poem to you, noble adventurers of adoption (when I read poetry my inner poet just can't help but burst out...sorry)!
 

How Did You Die?

Edmund Vance Cooke

Did you tackle that trouble that came your way
With a resolute heart and cheerful?
Or hide your face from the light of day
With a craven soul and fearful?
Oh, a trouble's a ton, or a trouble's an ounce,
Or a trouble is what you make it,
And it isn't the fact that you're hurt that counts,
But only how did you take it?

You are beaten to earth? Well, well, what's that?
Come up with a smiling face.
It's nothing against you to fall down flat,
But to lie there -- that's disgrace.
The harder you're thrown, why the higher you bounce;
Be proud of your blackened eye!
It isn't the fact that you're licked that counts,
It's how did you fight --  and why?

And though you be done to the death, what then?
If you battled the best you could,
If you played your part in the world of men,
Why, the Critic will call it good.
Death comes with a crawl, or comes with a pounce,
And whether he's slow or spry,
It isn't the fact that you're dead that counts,
But only how did you die?

I think it's easy amidst trials, whatever they be, that we sometimes forget that the wounds of battle are proof that we fought (or tripped). Also, remembering why we chose a certain path when it can be surprisingly hard does not make that path easier, but just worth all the blackened eyes along the way. 

Have a wonderful Thursday everyone, and Happy National Adoption Month to all! 

 

PS I promise it's worth it!

Music Monday: Camille, Keepin' Cancer Classy

A few months ago Nick's sister, Camille, was found to have thyroid cancer. Today is her second surgery, and during the first surgery her left vocal nerve was damaged leaving her unable to sing, possibly forever, and she can barely talk. If her right vocal nerve is damaged during this surgery Camille may not be able to, without intervention, speak, swallow, or even breathe. We are praying and fasting for her and her surgeons today that everything will go well and her vocal nerve, as much as possible, will be free of the small little tumors so we can just nip that cancer thing in the bud and leave that vocal nerve untouched. If you have a spare moment, a prayer sent her way would be much appreciated.

Today's Music Monday is dedicated to Camille, who is always Keepin' Cancer Classy! We love you! Everything is gonna be alright, be strong, believe!

I Can Do Hard Things

I was originally going to make this post concerning a week I spent with Alexa, on my own, as Nick was at a conference in California. I felt good at the end of that week! I had done a lot of things I wasn't sure I could do, and I wanted to brag about it. And while the title of the post remains true, I would like to take this conversation to another place.

A place of humility instead of pride.

A place that I wish to take my little sister, Suzy, as she is about to embark on fulfilling a call from God to serve a mission in the Texas Houston area, come November 16th.

I want her, and all of you, to know that we, as children of a divine creator, can do hard things. I can do hard things. Before I ever think about retreating from something, I say this mantra to myself, and then re-evaluate. If it is not necessary that's one thing, but those things are not to what I am referring. I am saying I can do hard things that God wants me to do because he will make me capable to do them. 

 Just after Nick and I got engaged, and just after we decided to begin our family we read this speech given by Elder Jeffery R. Holland, one of the Lord's disciples on the earth today, in which he said 

"Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompense of reward. For you have need of patience that after ye have done the will of God, ye receive the promise...We are are not of them that draw back into perdition...I think that is to say, sure it's tough, that is the way it has always been...Don't panic and retreat. Don't lose your confidence. Don't forget how you once felt. Don't distrust the experience you had."

I think about the experiences in my life that have given me the most cause for retreating. My first year in college was one, and my trial with infertility has been another. In both cases there was so much adversity that I doubted God remembered me at all, let alone had my best interests at heart. And both times I had experiences that proved those times of doubt completely false! And both times I received rewards for my continued efforts that I could never have imagined!

My pleading call to my little sister today is to always remember how much God loves you! Always remember and hold tightly onto the experiences you have had that testify of that truth to your heart! Always remember that no matter how hard life gets, now and forever, that as a beloved daughter of an almighty Father, you can do hard things! Always remember that "after you have gotten the message, after you have paid the price to feel his love and hear the word of the Lord, 'go forward.' Don't fear, don't vacillate, don't quibble, don't whine." The hard things you can do are completely worth their reward!

God is not cheap in his gift-giving like some of our relatives...you know who you are! ;)

Be strong, kid-o. Everything in life from here on out is going to be hard because you are doing good things and The Adversary wants to destroy good as often as He can. But always remember, you can do hard things! I love you so much, Suzy! You make everyone in our family so proud because of all the good that you do and the joy and hope you give to each of us as you daily remind us that we can all do hard things!

Just in case you'd rather not read the talk, this YouTube video gives highlights. Enjoy!

***One last, seemingly unrelated thought. Jen, our sister, gave me some advice before I left for BYU that I will never forget. She told me "People are the most important." More than anything else, how we treat others is a testament to how we live the Gospel of Jesus Christ. More than  getting somewhere on time, more than getting work done, and even more than our own personal path of perfection. People, God's children, are His greatest glory, and they should be ours, too. That piece of advice has served me well, so I thought I would pass it along to you.***

 I'm excited to hear about all the good, hard things you will do in the mission field! You will be surely missed, though. Perhaps more than I can understand right now. Love you!

Music Monday: Worth the Wait

I've been texting back and forth with Ray, Piglet's birth father today. He called Nick her father, and let me tell ya, that never gets old. This man bowed out of that role so Nick could have it...actually, it wasn't for Nick. It was for Alexa.

He bowed out so Alexa could have Nick as her father. So many things about having her in our home with her birth family have been definitely worth the wait!

The song I picked was written for another adoptive couple and the music is here (it's not on the market yet), and the lyrics are below. Beautiful stuff!

Post Script: The author of the song gave me the link for the embed code, so here it is!

Worth the Wait | Online Karaoke

Worth the Wait

Waiting…Believing

Wanting…Pleading

Counting all the tries

Wondering just how many times it’s gonna take

And thinking that this better be

Worth the Wait

Dreaming…Finally Finding

Planning…Buying

Counting down the weeks

Wishing somehow I could speed up all these days

And hoping that it’ll be

Worth the Wait

After all the hours that seemed like days and all the days that seemed like years

Well time will tell and time will heal and time has finally brought you here

Holding…Feel like flying

Laughing…Crying

We made it all the way

And now tomorrow is today, it finally came

And now I’m knowing it was totally

Worth the Wait

After all the hours that seemed like days and all the days that seemed like years

Well time will tell and time will heal and time has finally brought you here

Lovin’ You

Is my wildest wait come true

And I’d do it all all over

Cuz baby you know you were

Worth the wait

You were worth the wait

A Temporary Cleansing

Last night before bed I caught myself reading our blessing book entries from back in January.

What? You don't know what a blessing book is? It's our nightly journal where we say at least one thing that happened that we recognized the hand of the Lord in our lives that day.

What? You don't know what happened in January? That was when our failed adoption happened. Those posts seemed like a lifetime ago...and it has only been 6 months!

***Just as a side note, I hate that term: failed adoption. It sounds so bummer-ish and depressing. I'll be brainstorming a new phrase that reflects my feelings about the experience more accurately. TBA***

Back to last night: for the first time since Alexa's birth I kinda longed for that other little girl that I prayed to be ours for months. I had prayed her mom would choose adoption and choose us. Not that I would exchange Alexa, just I wanted them both! How selfish, right?

Well, it's how I felt. And then I told Nick, "I want Aly to have a sister...like now." And then I wanted to get pregnant, like yesterday. And then I felt that twinge of heartache knowing that I couldn't just "do the deed" and have a sister for Aly in me. Of course it's possible, but it hasn't happened in 5 years, and I really try not to get caught up in those thoughts because, even though I'm a mom, they still make me sad.

Those little reminders of my infertility have been hurting more often lately, like friends being pregnant or having baby showers while pregnant. They're reminders of a former life before motherhood, which feels like an eternity ago, and I don't particularly like it. They make me feel ungrateful for the life and experiences I have had because of my infertility. The people I have met and loved and love and will love forever.

So this post is a temporary cleansing of those feelings, because I think they'll creep up again. But for now, I am grateful that to the right of my laptop is a bowl with a little milk leftover from breakfast, a teething ring, an empty bottle, and a dirty receiving blanket. All because of adoption.

And I find myself grateful for my infertility. And my sisters.

Infertiles Everywhere (within the readership of this blog), Read My Call!

(If you're not infertile, you can keep on reading as well, this may interest you as well.)

I was involved with a moderately extended Facebook conversation in which some Infertiles sounded off about how frustrating it is when people who have been trying to get pregnant for less than a year claim infertility. You want the definition of infertility? Our friend Wikipedia shares its take on the matter:

"Reproductive endocrinologists, the doctors specializing in infertility, consider a couple to be infertile if: The couple has not conceived after 12 months of contraceptive-free intercourse if the female is under the age of 34. 12 months is the lower reference limit for Time to Pregnancy (TTP) by the World Health Organization." [link here]

I'm going to be honest, it is frustrating on occasion, when other's claim infertility when it's not. But that's my fault, not theirs.

We, as Infertiles, need to reach out to people who are experiencing the fears and sadness of wanting children and not having them, no matter how long they have had those emotions. It's still scary, it's still heartbreaking, it's still lonely.

The first person I shared my fears with was a close friend. She was single and did not know even a morsel of the worries I had, but she empathized and cried with me. That experience happened after Nick and I had been trying to get pregnant for a whopping 4 months! How foolish I would have sounded to others who had been dealing with actual infertility and not my little problem! My friend was an angel for me, but how nice it would have been for me then to have someone who really understood my pain and fears to hold my hand through that scary time in my life!

I naively thought the every other woman got pregnant whenever she wanted, but that was ignorance. Can we really be upset with those who sincerely are searching for a helping and comforting hand and do not know enough about infertility to identify it appropriately? Those syntactical errors maybe keeping us from loving and serving others, which is really silly! Are they trying to offend? No, and it is a fool who takes offense when none was intended. Often times they can't go to a doctor, and they may only have a handful of friends who have experienced what they're feeling. What would we have them do, suffer alone? 

Personally, I don't want others who maybe feeling the fear of infertility to be afraid to come to me and ask for help, no matter if those feelings have been with them for a day or a decade. We, as Infertiles, should be other women's first resource of help and strength, and not someone they are worried of offending. 

Did Christ ever say "You don't know pain or sorrow. Once you get to Gethsemane and are suffering for the entire world, then come talk to me about heartache and trials"? No, instead He puts up with all our little petty problems and doesn't make us feel like less than He is. In fact, He does not even make our petty problems even feel petty or less than our own personal Gethsemane. 

When we struggle, Christ says "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest...For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light." [link here] What do we as humans really know about being "heavy laden[ed]," but Christ, our Redeemer and Savior, said we can take our burdens to Him. If His yoke is easy, what do any of us have to complain about, or why should we make others feel less because we think their burden is less than our own?

Infertiles everywhere (within the readership of this blog), let us take upon ourselves the yoke of Christ, which is to "bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, and...mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort." [link here] We went through our infertility trial for a purpose, and I like to think that purpose is to better serve our fellow [wo]man and God. Isn't that what all our trials are for anyway?

Speaking of serving, a dear friend of mine who held my virtual hand through our failed adoption is having a Hysterectomy and is sad and scared. Please keep your thoughts and prayers with this amazing woman! She inspires many and now needs our help. Thanks!

Rachel and Julia

I saw a movie a while back and am watching tonight while getting some tedious work done (yes, I realize it's Christmas, but that's what happens on occasion when you have a low-paying high-demand job at a non-profit that you love). It's Julie & Julia and I would recommend it to anyone, especially girls, who have a pulse. It's awesome!

Let me tell you, I cried at the scene when Julia and her husband Paul are cooking and talking and laughing like any other time in the kitchen, and then she receives a letter from her newly-married sister. Julia's sister, Dorothy, told her she was pregnant, and this is what Julia said:

"Dorothy is pregnant. Hmmm. Ooo, Paul!"
(Her loving husband Paul walks over to her and puts his arm around her shoulder.)
"Isn't...isn't that WONDERFUL!"
(She then sobs into his shoulder and he comforts her so naturally, like he's probably done a billion times before then...aren't husbands wonderful?)
"I'm so happy!" Then Paul says, "I know. I know."

I am sitting here wondering if only people who have felt desperate for children can understand her logic, or if people experience other joys that cause them wrenching pain at the same time. I honestly don't know, but it seems like the latter would be more plausible. Just as a little side note.

Formspring Question and Answer

Does it still hurt when family or close friends announce they are expecting?

I can only remember a handful of times it did actually hurt, and I remember the first time it didn't anymore. Once I realized that I did not want their baby or happiness, that I was just anxious for my own, it hurt much less. Jealousy is very different than that aching feeling, the latter I think is okay. I ache for our children and want them to be with us everyday, because it's a righteous desire, but not at the expense of another's family or happiness.

This thought has really helped me get perspective: "Who makes us feel that if God is smiling on another, then He surely must somehow be frowning on us? You and I both know who does this—it is the father of all lies." (Elder Holland, The Other Prodigal)

My sister is currently pregnant, and I seriously couldn't be happier for her and her family!! Besides, this means I'll be getting a new adorable niece or nephew soon, (my guess is nephew), and maybe we could provide a playmate for him/her! Yay for families!!

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