Sick of Being Sick

I go through bouts every once in awhile of seriously feeling sorry for myself. 

I am currently in one of those.

My health issues have flared up involving my reproductive system, again. 

I won't get into the nitty gritty details for those male readers out there, but I will share that I once again have to have surgery.

The amount of estrogen the Dr. put me on alarmed the pharmacist so much that he didn't want to prescribe it to me. 

I am taking 8 pills a day and my body feels like it was run over by a truck. My emotions are on a ridiculous roller coaster ride, one minute making me all sappy and sentimental and the next all angry and ticked off at the world.

But mostly I feel sad.

Sad that my body is always all kinds of screwed up.

Sad that once again I had to go through another sonogram where my empty womb was displayed on a big screen this time. 

The sonographer said, "have you had any children?"

I said, "yes. I have five. But no pregnancies."

"That is what I meant," she replied with an arrogant tone.

Well then you should have said so... 

Go ahead and mark me once again with the scarlet letter:

I

~Infertile~ 

The definition of  "infertile" and "barren" are:

"not producing or incapable of producing offspring; sterile: a barren woman.

2. unproductive; unfruitful"

Really? Am I unproductive and unfruitful?

Most women cry during a sonogram because they get to see this:

I cry because all I have ever seen is this:

Only this time there were little polyps to be measured and soon removed. 

Thrillsville.

It is getting old, people.

I am at the point where I am like: "take it all!"

What good has any of my eggs or ovaries done for me anyway?

Nothing but loss.

I am grateful for good friends and an attentive mother-in-law who listen to me rant and wail. But I am also grateful to a God who makes each day a new one. A new day of LIFE to be lived, regardless of how I feel.

Isaac was crying the other night to sleep and I went in to check on him. He said, "Mom. I'm sorry you are sick."

I said, "I'm sorry I'm sick too buddy. But you know what?  If Mommy's womb was healthy and could produce babies, I would not have you as my son. So even though I hate being sick, I can thank God for giving me this broken part of my body...so I can have the very children I was always meant to have."

He smiled and nodded. I kissed him and I went to bed that night with a lighter heart.

My five children make it all worth it. 

Sometimes I am still mad at my suffering.
But I know that Christ suffered far more.

Sometimes I am still sad at my brokenness.
But I know that this broken road led my family home.

And I often lament the pain and loss my friends have been on in their journey to parenthood. It just seems unfair.

But I know that this is not the end for any of us.
This is not where we belong. 
One day we will all be Home, far from pain and tears and cramps and bleeding and barrenness and miscarriages and still born babies and doctors and medicine and surgeries and loss and grief.

We will be Home where peace like a river will cover all of our earthly wounds.

Truly healed.

God Blessed The Broken Road

In just 5 days, this little guy will be legally free for adoption in the State of Texas.

Yesterday his caseworker brought us his file which is a stack of hundreds of papers...everything ever written or documented about him and all members of his birthfamily. I stayed up past midnight reading it and only got half way. Some of it reads as a narrative...On this date this allegedly happened, this person said this, this cousin or uncle was here or there. It is like J is not a person, but a player in a grand play where he is the one who gets the short end of the stick. Reading about the events that transpired that led he and the three brothers that came before him to in some way or another be raised by other people, was disheartening even though I knew alot of it already because it was also in Isaac's file. The most difficult thing to read is all the times CPS came to the home in J's little life, but each time chose not to remove him. The allegations of neglect and abuse when he was 8 months old, 15 months old, 2 years old....and how it was determined everytime that he was at "significant risk" in the home...but apparently not enough to be removed.

Reading this, I thought about our own timeline. Where were we when my son was 8 months old and I didn't even know he existed? What would have happened had CPS gained custody of him at birth? And it all leads me back to the same conclusion that he may have been placed with a foster family and not us had he been given a different caseworker than the one he had. That if J had come home any earlier than July 28, 2010....Jasmine would not be ours because we likely would have stopped with 3 kids, due to the expense of private adoption. What would have happened if at any point on this journey of life, I had gotten pregnant and given birth. I know for a fact if that had happened, some of the 4 children who are my very heartbeat would not be mine.

It leads me back to the conclusion that my body's brokenness was ALL a part of God's grander plan for every single member of my family. My empty womb opened up a place in my heart and home for the very children God had chosen. That this baby boy had to live in that broken home for 2 years and 6 months to be given the opportunity to be with us forever.

The Rascal Flatts song, Broken Road comes to mind as I contemplate these things...for myself and for my youngest son.


Every long lost dream led me to where you are
Others who broke my heart they were like Northern stars
Pointing me on my way into your loving arms
This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you

I think about the years I spent just passing through
I'd like to have the time I lost and give it back to you
But you just smile and take my hand
You've been there you understand
It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true...

This much I know is true
That God blessed the broken road
That led me straight to you



To my precious children, those who have been adopted by us and those who will be very, very soon.

God blessed my broken road
That led me straight to you.

When an Infertile Woman Suddenly Has A Baby

A blogging friend, Hannah T. recently posted her words titled, When An Infertile Woman Suddenly Has A Baby. She is referring to her foster care placement of a sweet baby girl after never having been a mother to an infant before. I loved what she wrote and wanted to post it here with my own thoughts.
From Stubborn Fish Tales:

When an infertile woman suddenly has a baby…

She realizes just how right she was that something was missing.
She realizes how much she loves her husband and how amazing he is.
She realizes how holding a baby (especially in a moby wrap) makes people react to you differently.
She prays for God’s healing of her body more than ever.
She glows. (or so Hubby tells me.)
She wonders about God’s plans and purposes…a lot.
She loves… a lot, and gets a bigger picture of God’s love for her.
She realizes how much she has enjoyed the freedom of sleeping in.

Reading these words struck a chord in me because even though I had Vivi as a newborn, it was 4 years ago. I was in so many ways a different person then. I was weak and raw having come out of a year of fostering and the heartbreak that caused. Vivi's birth confirmed to me that I was worthy enough to be a mother of a baby. And it was so sweet. But there was an element of having to prove myself as a mom. Now, 4 kids later I don't feel that need anymore. I am reaching my stride. I tear up a lot with Jasmine as she is a wonderment to me. But, I do not pray that God will heal my body. My answers to why I am barren sit right in front of me at the dinner table. I know why. I accept it. I rejoice in it. I am overcome at times with gratitude and love...abounding love for my babies and how they came to be.

I look at Jasmine and think "Wow. How can it be that this baby is mine?" Everywhere we go she is a rock star. People flock to her and I feel SO proud to be her Mama. When I wear her in the moby wrap, it is so comforting to have a baby, a little human being, hanging on my chest. Not having ever been pregnant, the feeling of a living person being carried in front of me is so unique and intensely intimate and special to me. Having raised an infant and toddler into childhood, I know too well how quickly the time flies and I am cherishing every single moment with Jasmine at just the age she is at. I am in no hurry for her to roll over or sit up. I do not count down the days until I can feed her baby food like I did with Vivi. I want her to be my tiny baby forever and ever! She is so full of personality, intense...like Vivi was. I mean just look at this face!!
When I say to her "are you Mama's happy child?" she lights up with the biggest grin. I just have a hard time capturing it in time on camera! She is so sweet and laid back. I forgot to pack her a bottle at lifegroup so Billy had to run to the store and buy one. Of course they did not have our bottles but I just knew she would take whatever he got, and she did...sucking it down to the bottom!

When we began the process to adopt our 3rd (who actually became our 4th!!) one year ago, I had no picture in my mind of who my baby would be. I had a hard time even grasping that a baby would actually come home to us. When J came home, it was the perfect fit and the thought of a baby became a distant one. When we got the call and brought Jasmine home, it felt like living a dream. She is so very perfect for our family.

So I add this to my friend's words...When an infertile woman suddenly has a baby...her life is completely whole.

Infertility Grief Revisited

I want to say to those who read my words on the below blog and feel inspired to maybe leave the rollercoaster of infertility treatments....or who so desperately desire to let go of the grief of barrenness that has plagued you for so long, I thought I would share with you the words I wrote two years ago.

Infertility Grief

And the words from my old blog:

Adopted With Love

God was doing a work in me even then. And in just two short (or long however you look at it) years, He has brought me out of despair for what could have been that never was, and has brought me to the place of understanding, acceptance, and true peace. Hear this though- adoption does not heal those wounds on its own or automatically. It is a journey. For me, it was a journey of 7 years coming to a place of peace after having adopted 4 beautiful children. But, like any and all losses...no they do not ever go away. I have seen firsthand though how the Lord redeems grief and brings about true and immense JOY.

I pray this for every mom and mom-to-be out there reading my blog whose own story is that parenthood did not come easy for you. May you too experience peace on the journey our Lord had planned for you from before the beginning of time.

Daughters

Once upon a time I had a different brown skinned baby girl. She and Isaac were just 18 months apart. CPS gave her to us as an adoptive placement-parental rights had been terminated. We named her Olivia and brought her home. We had a party for her, we sent out birth announcements. Long story short, CPS took her away from us abruptly, gave her to another foster mother, and the drama that ensued left me scarred and traumatized for a long, long time.

I wondered why God had brought her at all if he was going to just take her away. I wondered why we had to struggle so hard to be parents when others were gifted with it so effortlessly.
6 months later, I understood why. Our real daughter had already been conceived.
Had Olivia not come and been taken in such a horrific way, we would have not left foster care adoption to pursue domestic infant adoption.

And our Vivianna would not be ours.

But this was not to be God's plan. His plan was for us to be in the room when our daughter entered this world. His plan was for me to be the first one to hold her.
His plan was that this daughter would stay.
And she did.

All of my children have redeemed part of our journey for me.
This certainly was not their job to do as they came into our family, but it happened nonetheless.

Isaac redeemed my ache to be a mother. An ache that started from the time I was old enough to know that women had babies of their very own. He wasn't really a baby anymore, but he needed a mother very very much. And I so desperately needed a son. A perfect fit.

Vivianna redeemed my deep desire to have a baby that was mine from birth. A baby whose very life began in our heart and home. A sweet bundle of pink baby girl that I thought I had had to say goodbye to. She had such spark and life to her. She still does.

J redeemed in many ways my barrenness. In his homecoming I came to terms with God that this was the way our family was to be. Our cup runneth over in beautiful colors of children that I could have never given birth to. That deep desire to be pregnant that I thought would always be a part of me quickly and surprisingly left as our family has grown. We now have quite too many children for a pregnancy to be the blessing it once would have been. :)

And Jasmine. Jasmine has redeemed my loss. Billy pointed out that Jasmine has dragged up "Olivia anxiety" in a way that Vivi did not. I suppose it is because Jasmine is a brown skinned baby girl. I suppose I had given up the thought that would ever happen again. I know I worry more about this baby. Is she breathing? Will she survive the SIDS window? Will I make all the right decisions for her care all the time? Will she love me? Olivia cried a lot. I was not her mother. She missed her foster mother she had been with since birth. And she was not going to so quickly be replaced. But Jasmine lights up when she sees me. She smiles at me even if I am just shifting her from the changing table to the swing. If she is in a rage she stops crying the second I pick her up. She nuzzles into me and relaxes. She is mine. And I am hers. Beautiful redemption.

And despite the worry and fear that threatens to creep up...I am putting my trust in the Lord that He has given us this baby girl to keep for all the days of her life.

On My Mind These Days...

There are two things that have been swimming around in my head since I read them recently. One is this little poem, you could call it, from a fellow blogging buddy who blogs at http://www.barrenwoman.blogspot.com/.

Rachel writes:

Today...

I am ovulating.

And

All I can think is...

Big deal.

What does it matter...

Its not like

Anything could come of it.

Sigh.

Oh infertility,

I hate you...

Today.

I love this. Love the rawness that it conveys. The heartache always hanging around sometimes unnoticable to the rest of the world, but to those of us barren... so very profound.

No matter what the journey to motherhood has been for each one of us, or how we have seen that journey as a blessing many times over, and have even thanked our Lord time and time again for His plan for our lives...these words ring out as our banner song when all in the world is quiet and we are alone and left with only our thoughts.

And the other thing that has clung to my thoughts is a comment left on a dear friend's blog after the amazing and wonderful story of her baby's birth. A friend of hers wrote, "just beautiful. birthing babies is definitely God’s grace to women…such an incredible experience."
I read this and actually said outloud, Ouch.

It stung in a way that I am embarrassed to admit. Embarrassed because I don't want anyone in the world to think that I am not perfectly content with my babies that were not birthed from my body. It is not other children I ever desire, but the experience. And the wonderment of it all. God's grace to women...

I will leave it at that.

Joy in unexpected places...

I had a Dr.'s Appt. today for "female issues". I won't share what that means here, but the Dr. had me do a pregnancy test. Of course I knew I was not pregnant...but you know how they like to rule things out. As I was telling my Dr. we are still waiting for a baby and was showing her photos of J (last time she saw me I was getting my physical for our infant adoption!) I told her, "You know, this is the first time in my life where being pregnant would be a really BAD thing!" After the results of course came back negative...I kissed Vivi's forehead and said "In 7 years...this life was way better than a pregnancy any day!" Vivi said "I love you, Mom!" and the Dr. and assistant gushed over her. I told her I would be concerned about having a biological child, because I would not want people to say "Is this one yours?" She jumped in, rolling her eyes and said "They are ALL yours." I said, exactly!! With my current "issues", I am being put back on the Pill for the first time in 7 years! I looked at the Dr. and said "I am way beyond pregnancies now...and way over my head with kids!"

After having an exam of *ahem* the most annoying kind...I gathered my coat and my daughter and said to my Dr. "Despite the circumstances...this was a very pleasant visit!"

We both laughed at that one!

As I pulled out of the parking lot, I drove past an OB/GYN office and this fertility clinic. Who knew that this heartbreaking failure 6 years ago, would have led to this immense and unmeasurable joy today...
I would not have it any other way.

Memories

Today Isaac and I were able to talk briefly about adoption. I never know when these conversations will come up or how.

But they are always a treat for this mother's heart when they do.

He saw a picture of Billy and I in a magnet on the fridge (not the above shot-I'll explain this one later). Here is what was said:

Isaac: "Mom where was I in this picture?"

Me: "You hadn't come home yet."

Isaac: "Were you so sad that you didn't have a baby."

Me: "Yes, Mommy was so very sad that I couldn't have a baby in my tummy."

Isaac: "But then you adopted me!"

Me: "Oh yes! It was the happiest day of my life when they handed you to me. I thought to myself, look at this beautiful brown skinned baby boy all for me and Dad to love!"

Isaac (smiling really big now): "And did you show me to Grandma?"

Me: "Oh yes, she said 'he is so adorable!'

Isaac: "Did I try to run away?"

Me: "Oh no, you could only crawl, but you stayed right by my side. You needed a Mommy too."

He scampered off to play with a warm smile on his face and I smiled too.

I went back to look at the photos taken during our infertility struggle and there were hardly any of us. I think I just didn't have it in me to smile and pose. The above shot was taken at a pumpkin patch 6 months into trying to conceive. My sister was in her third trimester with her first child and we took pics of them with her swollen belly all happy, awaiting the arrival of her Christmas baby. There would be no Christmas baby for us...no Christmas pregnancy either. And my heart began to break.

I had no idea that it would be another 16 months from the time that picture was taken, that my son would finally come home. I certainly had no idea that just about 2 short weeks before we went to that pumpkin patch that October day in 2004, he had already entered this world! But the Lord knew. And he told my tender heart to WAIT...wait for what is to come. Wait for the little one I have chosen for you. Wait to see how wonderful it will be.

And we waited...

And it was.

Infertility Grief

I have tried literally for months to compose this post, and even saved it as a draft- later to delete all of it. There never seemed to be a good time. Today Billy said "the great thing about you, is you put yourself out there. You take the hits." The truth is more like I put "out there" what I am okay with. Alot I tuck deep inside. Well, I remembered this post waiting for me to complete, and maybe now I could do it. I thought this would be about loss associated with barrenness, then I wasn't sure how I even felt about that. Wasn't sure I had the courage to write about that. SO I'll just write and see what comes of it.


For 5 years, this month I have been barren. Do you know this was always my greatest fear growing up? I shamelessly admit I played with baby dolls way too late into childhood and used to stuff my shirt with a pillow and look at myself in the mirror. It wasn't just something I wanted to be one day, it was THE thing I wanted to be one day. Well, that and of course a mother. I used to lie awake at night as a teenager and think "God will you allow me to be pregnant?" This was a strange thought as I never knew anyone who couldn't get pregnant. But somehow I wondered about myself.

I knew when we pursued adoption that our children would not replace the children we couldn't have. I also knew they would feel and be my real children, just like any I gave birth to- because ultimately it doesn't matter how you become a mother or how a child comes into the world. What matters is that you are. And this all came true for me.

What I didn't expect was the feeling of grief and loss to stay with me for so long. At times the sadness threatens to choke me. Over the years I have dabbled in counseling and anti-depressants, never really achieving long term success with either. I recently made a call to a women's hospital that does weekly group counseling for Depression. They said one group was for general depression and the other for grief and loss. I said I'm not sure which one I would be in. She said "well the grief and loss one is right now women who have recently lossed a baby." I said, well that's not me. But I'm not so sure. Is it? I mean am I "generally depressed"...like with everyday happenings. No, not really. But often times I feel gloomy, my mind wanders, I feel stuck.I feel like I've lost something.

I haven't followed up with the clinic.

You see the thing is, I don't have a desire to have a biological child. Doesn't mean much to me now. But I am also not so sure I want to go my whole life without knowing what it feels like to have a life inside of me. To bring life into the world. I know it's not an easy road. My dear friend has had the worst pregnancy EVER! But in the end she still can say this child came from her. I think this may just be the stage I'm in now. Everyone continues to be pregnant. In 10 more years, my peers will have all had their children and we will all just be Moms. Most days I understand this is my calling, that I wouldn't have my son and daughter any other way. Some days, it doesn't feel as much like a calling as it does a curse, one that I do not understand.


I have asked the "why me" question over and over and recently I began to hear a gentle whisper of "why not me?" Why should I not suffer? Why should I not be afflicted? Everyone you meet has a heartache of some kind. And this just happens to be mine. I fear it will always be with me in some way. Pregnancy mystifies and perplexes me. It feels foreign. The Bible says that the Lord closed Hannah's womb. And He has chosen to close mine. Not because of anything I did or didn't do, but because He is sovereign over ALL creation.


Today at church, we looked over the verses in 2 Corinthians 1:3-9 where it says that the Lord "comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God." It goes on to say "but this happened so that we may not rely on ourselves but God." To humble us. It also says to bring about "patient endurance". Endurance in ALL suffering. The many blessings that have come of my infertility have been first and foremost my children. But also, the ability to mourn deeply for others. For those who have lost a child, or lost the ability to have a child. I don't want to hide from grief, in myself or others. I want to turn to it, to embrace it. To drink deeply of it. For I know that where there is grief, there is the Lord's comfort. And this is the place that the people of God should be. And maybe there someday, I too, will find healing for the broken pieces of my heart.