Getting school’d

My Facebook feed is filled with the first day of back to school pictures.  “We have a fourth grader.”   “First day of seventh grade and second day of freshman year.”   Siblings standing outside in bright, crisp outfits with new backpacks and lunch boxes.  The epitome of the end of summer.

A reminder for me of the end of a chapter.  I’d have a fifth and sixth grader.   I’d be in the rush to get school supplies, pack lunches, and tighten down after school plans.  Instead, I work on fundraising for a charity.   I met with two businesses; one at my lunch hour and one after work.   Keeping busy and giving back has helped me.

It doesn’t change my reality.  But it changes my perspective.  It helps me reflect on all that I DO have.  Being middle class in America means the top percentage of lifestyles around the world.   When people live on a dollar a day, I can rejoice in my blessings.

My Sunday paper was filled with back to school sales flyers.  I saw super cute backpacks and sent them to my sister’s children.  Finding great sales, I buy some supplies for a back to school supply drive at work.  I work through the pain and find ways to participate . . .just in different ways.

Elle

The Bend

The most uncomfortable place to be—not knowing what lies ahead.

This time of year I scroll through social media and see post after post—new haircuts, new outfits, loaded backpacks, and furnished dorm rooms. Evidence of plans working out for other people and their families. Two years ago, a brief phone call from my doctor confirmed what I feared and I watched my plans crumble before my very eyes. These past couple years have been emotionally rocky but, at times, healing.

In the midst of planning, I’ve learned how to not throw my heart into those plans. Was this wrong? Only time would tell. I guess this was a way of protecting myself.  Yet this still landed me in a place of fear and anxiety at times. I found myself asking what will this next season hold?

When Jesus says He is a lamp to our feet, that provides just enough light to see the next step.  Our vision is limited and it can be frustrating to not know more than one step.  It doesn’t matter how well I plan or how far back I hold my heart, not knowing what lies around the bend in the road is a very uncomfortable place to be in life.

“Hello, this is Emerson, returning your phone call.” The voice was welcoming and kind. I had been playing phone tag with her for several weeks. She was calling from the local adoption agency. I scurried around, trying to find a pen. Why isn’t there EVER a pen when I need one!? I grabbed a picnic promotional flyer from my church and flipped it over to scratch out the date and time to meet with Emerson. We were finally ready. Ready to take the first step towards adoption.

Why has it been so hard to get to this place of peace? Why has it taken so long for my heart to catch up? I was the one holding my heart back. I had just assumed I would get pregnant right away when we first started trying—because that’s just what happens. I was told you have sex, you get pregnant. Well, I had sex, I didn’t get pregnant. Again and again and again. I threw my heart into it every single cycle. My heart was bruised and battered. My hope was crushed and shattered. Before I could recover, I was broken with excruciating anguish again by a lonely line. When I was done trying to conceive naturally, my husband was still holding out hope. When he was ready to move on to the next option, I questioned whether or not my heart would truly bond with a child I didn’t grow inside of me.

Asking God to change my heart has been one of the most difficult prayers I have ever prayed. Most of the time I was praying for God to change our circumstance…I was viewing adoption as God’s “No.” Adoption is a wonderful gift. It’s a chance for something extra. More than we could have ever asked for. It’s a beautiful blessing beyond the answer to my prayers. Am I staking more hope in this than I should? Maybe. But maybe God wants my heart all in, because as I have been crushed along the way in the TTC lifestyle, those are the points when God has been able to mold me into the person He wants me to be.

So, while others have exciting pictures to share on three different social media apps of their plans working out; a child entering the next stage of education, or another growing bump. I find myself at a place where I cannot see around the bend ahead. If I let myself slip into a tunnel vision of fear and anxiety, I will miss the beauty along the way. There will be difficult times, but maturity and strength can shine through the broken places.

~ Anna

“For You are great and do wondrous things; You alone are God. Teach me Your way, O Lord, that I may walk in Your truth; unite my heart to fear Your name. I give thanks to You, O Lord my God, with my whole heart, and I will glorify Your name forever. For great is Your steadfast love toward me; You have delivered my soul from the depths of Sheol.” Psalm 86:10-13

What to do with Four Years

This August marks 4 years of trying to conceive. Sometimes I don’t like to think about what these past 4 years have held for me. All of the emotions. All of the tears. All of the questions. All of the pregnancy tests. The number of times I peed thinking this has to be it. All of the trips I took to the store for another pack of tampons. The nights I laid in bed, literally feeling the empty hole in my heart. The number of glasses of wine. The ounces of chocolate. The hugs I received from my husband. The texts from good friends. The chick flicks I watched. The emotional purchases I made. The prayers that streamed down my cheeks. The tear-stained pages in my Bible.

I could place numbers to all of these, yet it would never equal the lack of a child in my life. I could focus on the lack of results I was searching for, but I might miss the result I ended up with. A beautiful relationship with my husband. A deeper knowledge of who God is. A full grip of my spiritual gift and perspective on how to live fuller through that gift.

As I look back, I wouldn’t trade these 4 years for anything else in the world! I have experienced depression; drug across the dirty rocks at the bottom of the pit. I have felt pain reach the deepest part of my heart. I have sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. My husband met me there, and I met God there.

If experiencing infertility was the only thing that would build an unbreakable bond with my husband and a deeper relationship with God, I would willingly and bravely go through it again.

Anna

Anniversaries of what didn’t happen

Special days are hard.  The pregnancy announcement day.  The birth day that never came.  The day the foster kids came, . . . the day they left.

I just passed the five year anniversary of the day they left.  I still remember that day with stinging tears.  I wanted to rend my garments like in biblical times.  Instead, I showed up to work that next day like I wasn’t broken in 1000 tiny, fragile pieces.  I was holding it together . . . until a co-worker said, “I’m sorry to hear about the kids.”  I started crying there, in a conference room with my boss and other teammates.  I rushed out to the bathroom to compose myself.

Now, I just get ‘weird’ on the special days.  I remember the good times and try to not commit to any evening plans that night. Lie low and do something kind for someone else (I brought coffee to the security guard at work).  I may not be able to control what has happened, but I can choose my actions; doing a kind deed helps me take control of my day.   I tell my close friends, “I may be weird today.  It’s the anniversary of the day the kids left and I’m feeling it.”

No one remembers your special days.  Nor should they.  Don’t hold them accountable to remember or even honor the days.  They may not understand that this process of grieving extends past when they consider it appropriate.  Most people will be done hearing your grief after a month.  They have moved on; it’s not their grief.  Be gracious with your friends- this is expected.

This is your grief and your experience.  Allow yourself to feel emotions- don’t put a time limit on it.   Work through it with your spouse or professional help. Or find a community of people who have experienced a similar loss and speak with them.

Elle