Ten Years Gone: Infertility and Zebras

 

 

Ten years ago this month, Billy and I moved into our very first house.

We brought our pound puppy, Lucy home.

 

And we officially went off birth control.

 

We were so excited to start our family.

All I ever wanted of my life was to be married and pregnant.

 

Our one year anniversary came and went in May and with it, my period.

Then the next month.

And the next...

And the next.

 

Suddenly I knew.

I just knew.

 

So we began to see fertility doctors.

Many of them.

And 18 months of fertility tests and treatments came and went.

 

We made the decision to become foster/adoptive parents, but I always held out at what the last fertility doctor's nurse told me, "there does not seem to be anything wrong. You could just up and get pregnant at any time."

 

 I said to myself, in the next ten years I will conceive and give birth.

It was going to happen for me.

 

But it never did.

In a way I always knew it wouldn't.

When my reproductive system took a dive in 2012, and the option to have surgery and thereby end any hope of conceiving a child came...I knew I had to do it.

 

I needed to just be healthy.

It was time to say goodbye to the journey that had brought with it so many ups and downs.

I knew that making that decision would carry its own pain.

And it did.

Deep grief and loss for about a year.

 

Barrenness has become the burden God has called me to carry throughout my life. It has kept me humble. It has been a story that has brought hope and healing to others. For that I am thankful.

 

Healing has come in so many ways, namely my children.

Yet, it is amusing to me how infertility still finds

 its way to creep up in the most unexpected times.

 

Like today, I went with Isaac on his third grade field trip.

It was at a wild life ranch. I saw the kangaroos with the little joeys in their pouches. SO cute. 

I didn't think about pregnancy at all as we petted the little baby.

 

We went by the lemurs and were told that one of them might be pregnant. Ok. Good for them.

 

What got me came next.

It was the one week old Zebra baby.

 

Just look at that adorableness.

 

I was mesmorized by how the baby followed its mother around, trying to nurse. And how it would skip and leap in excitement but always staying right by mom. Precious.

 

So, the tour guide asked if we had questions and I asked if the other females had babies too.

 

He said they hoped all of them would get pregnant.

One had only been pregnant once.

The zebra had been stillborn.

 

Oh.

Ouch.

And suddenly I found myself irrationally asking questions in my head that I would have never asked a teenage tour guide in front of 60 third graders.

Questions like, "what would become of the zebra who never had a baby? Would she just trot around the other mothers knowing she never conceived? Would she feel normal or sad? Would it always carry with her for her whole life that all the other zebras had babies and she didn't?"

 

I really wanted to ask if the animal keepers would give the infertile zebra a different baby. You know like a donkey foul or something to mother. What about that pot bellied pig over there. He looked like he could use a mom. 

 

This is where my mind goes people!!

I was amused that I had this flood of questions about the possibility of a barren zebra. Good night.

Later, as I looked through the pictures I had taken, I found this one:

 

Waaaaa.

A sad lonely zebra with no babies.

(she actually just wanted us to feed her more pellets).

 

 You can see where my thoughts take me.

Sheer lunacy.

 

So ten years have come.

Here we are.

 

I always thought I might have conceived by now.

But what I knew to be true was that I would certainly be a mother 10 years down the road.

 

Of five...no one could have predicted.

 

In November, I flew to Maryland to speak at a Women's Retreat for Adoptive Mothers. I spoke on the subject of Infertility and Older Child Adoption on two different days. In my first talk, I shared this:

 

I have spent the last 10 years with this thought running through

 my mind: “I will never get over being barren.”

 My biggest fear was that I would take my infertility grief with me

 to my grave.

In the past year it has occurred to me (through the Holy Spirit, no

doubt) that….”So what if I do?”

In 2 Corinthians, Paul asked God three times to take away the

thorn in his flesh. Many have speculated on what the thorn was,

but what most agree God said NO. The purpose: to keep Paul

humble so that he would not trust in himself. So that God would

get the glory for ALL that Paul’s life achievements would be. And

we know they were great. Paul is held as one of the founders of

the Church and yet he suffered greatly until the day he was

martyred.

 

So this understanding begs the question: If a hero of the faith like

Paul can be called to this kind of suffering, why can’t we?

And if we are…why not view it as Good for the sake of the gospel.

Why not view it as a small price to pay for the sacrifice made on

our behalf on the cross?

 

 If our story of pain and hope can bring others to the place of

making hard decisions…decisions like stopping the rollercoaster of

infertility treatments to pursue bringing an orphan home.

Or bringing hope to an unwed mother who has made the

heartbreaking decision to choose a family for her baby.

Or laying down our own dreams of a newborn baby to welcome

home an older child from foster care who has always dreamed of

having his own bedroom to sleep in, and a mother to tuck him in

at night.

 Maybe we can begin to view our grief as less of a

punishment and more of a promise. A promise that God IS there in

 our tears. He IS very present in our pain. And He is doing a Good

work in our life that He will see to fruition.

 Then we must ask ourselves this: “Is our pain and suffering worth it? Can we lay down our desires for someone else’s benefit? Can we be willing to be changed in the process?”

 

I was so glad to be able to share at that retreat and I told them there is healing in sharing your story.

 

10 years of infertility and roughly 6 of blogging about it has brought me to a really good place.

 

I encourage you if you are here and the sight of zebra babies brings the thoughts that it brought to my mind....

 

Just go write about it.

You will feel so much better.

 

 

It is Worth It

I gave a teaser on my Facebook Page that I would be writing this weekend about some hard things.

I just have not had the mind space to write.

 

Because somedays I feel like I am drowning.

 

And somedays I'm not clear headed enough to think, let alone bare my soul on this blog as you have come to know me to do.

 

Somedays I'm just not brave enough to face it.

 

But today I am.

So here goes...

 

This summer will be two years since we welcomed our teenager home. We all say it feels longer.

Like we've been together all of our lives.

 

But the truth is, we haven't.

And the growing pains that new relationships go through have been very hard. My thoughts of how I would raise a teenager have been challenged time and again, along with my authority.

 

Our son has settled in and at times it feels like he runs the house.

We hold him accountable to his grades, he gets mad.

We hold him accountable to his chores, he gets mad.

We hold him accountable to his attitude problem, he gets mad.

You get the idea?

 

The child actually has this shirt in his closet.

And with it comes a story that we laugh at now, but at the time was a very painful, scary place in our journey.

This shirt holds memories that started out bad and ended up good.

 

He never wears this shirt now.

But I hope he never gets rid of it either.

Because it is a tangible reminder of a time when all of our sin natures flared up...yet reconciliation awaited us.

 

I intentionally do not share the details of what it has been like to parent a child we didn't raise, because it is not my story to share. It is our son's story. And we never want him to be misunderstood here.

 

I cringe when I read the gritty details on blogs and fb forums of what people go through with their older adopted children. I'm sorry, I don't think it is helpful to lay out our children's dirty laundry for the world to see. Everyone's journey is their own. And I do not feel it gives older child adoption a good name for us mothers to constantly be whining and complaining about all that our children have "put us through."

 

When did this become about you anyway?

 

 

A dear friend who is also in the midst of raising her teenage (bio) son, encouraged me with this verse:

"Do not remember the rebellious sins of my youth. Remember me in the light of your unfailing love, for you are merciful, O LORD." Psalm 25:7

 

Precious words of comfort.

If God does not remember the sins of my youth, then why should I hold onto my child's?

 

Do not get me wrong,

I have cried buckets of tears, and in my darkest moments have lamented to Billy,

 "What have we done?"

 

But each day is a new one. And with it brings small victories won.

Homework gets turned in.

Dishwasher gets emptied.

School stories are shared.

Opinions are heard and validated.

Laundry is folded.

Laughter quickly washes away the pain of yesterday.

 

This week was one of those weeks.

My heart broke over my son's mean actions.

We confronted him via text. We spent about 2 days not communicating at all. And then the dam broke and the healing waters came pouring down in the form of a 3 and a half page letter our boy wrote to us.

 

It was filled with repentance.

He poured his heart out. Billy and I stayed up late with him one night and talked it all out. 

 

I told him these words:

We are not your first family that didn't fight for you.

We are not the caseworkers who stormed in and removed you from the only home you had ever known. We are not the foster families that broke your trust over the course of 2 years. Yet, we are the ones that get the brunt of all your hurt and anger and disrespect.

 

And that is okay.

 

Billy broke in, "We are your parents. We are supposed to do that."

 

I felt in that moment healing really began.

He told us that all the time in foster care made it so he couldn't trust anyone and he sealed his heart up. When he came home to us, and things got bad but then they went back to normal again so quickly...he knew he could trust us. And he has.

 

I have learned to speak this child's love language.

It is gifts and quality time.

 

When I want to express how much I love him, I will leave a bag of snickers on his pillow. Or I will do his laundry. Recently, we were in Florida for Spring Break and on Billy and I's date night out, we wandered into a shoe store where I gasped at a wall full of Nike Slides. My child  is a basketball player and he adores wearing slides. Right there in front...costing half of what they would have cost me in Texas (if I could even find them sold here) were

Nike Camo slides with a highlighter swoosh.

 

 

 

His absolute favorite color combination.

I about died.

 

I bought those shoes.

And I presented the bright orange Nike box to him under one condition...that he talk to me about a subject he had neglected to inform me of. It hurt me bad that he hadn't told me.

 

So I clung to that box and told him he hurt my feelings and I wanted him to share with me because I am his Mom. And that if he wanted to see what was in this mystery box, he would spill the goods.

 

It worked like a charm, my friends.

He laughed at my wily ways and told me all about it.

 

So I forked over the box.

He opened it and let loose.

He jumped up yelling and exclaiming no one at his entire school had these shoes and how all his friends will freak on Monday.

 

He ran off to find a beach tshirt we had bought him that day that matched perfectly and when he came back in, he attack hugged me... thanking me over and over.

Billy later said, "you knew no one at that school had those shoes didn't you? And that he would react that way."

 

Yes.

It is my job to know these things.

 

And it is my job to pray for him.

And to cry over his choices.

 

I will keep fighting the good fight my Lord has set before me, with my husband by my side fighting just as hard.

 

We will wage war on his culture that tells him to do everything that our value system tells him not to do.

 

We will stand strong against Satan who feeds us all lies and plants doubt in our head.

 

We will cling to a God who does not make mistakes.

But He does make us holy.

 

Thank you friends for reading this.

For following along with our journey.

 

I hold out hope that our family will come to the other side...maybe a little bruised up...but all in one piece.

 

 

Vivianna's 7th Birthday ~ Slumber Party Themed

Last night was Vivianna's birthday party!

 

Six girls came over.

 

 

We shipped the boys off for the night and my sweet friend Heather came over and helped. What a lifesafer she was, cause this party wore. me. out.

 

 After all of the screaming commensed....

OMG....Heidi is here! Ahhh!!!!

for every single girl that arrived,

we settled them down to decorate fabric bags.

 

After their bags were done, the girls went to the party favor bar.

 

 



 

The bar included all stuff I was able to find at Dollar Tree (Score!!)...

 Rainbow Looms and Ring Pops.

 Sleep masks and night owl stickers.

 Jelly bracelets and Reeses

 head bands and socks.

 

Then everyone put on their sleep masks...

 

And did blindfold makeovers!

 

 

 This was so hilarious and a big hit. They laughed and shrieked.

 

 After that we ate cookie cake and the girls drank Cherry 7-up out of the cutest plastic mason jars with lids and straws that I found at...

you guessed it, Dollar Tree!

 

We discovered that cake banners do not work in

 flat cookie cakes. Oops.

Every girl brought a doll or stuffed animal and I served them with little appetizer ware that I bought on clearance in Dec.

 

Then Vivi opened her gifts and we played freeze pillow fight, Twister, keep your balloons in the air and charades.

 

 A friend brought costumes from the movie Frozen which of course Vivi adored because that is what they watched!

 

 

 

While enjoying the popcorn and candy bars.

The girls all belted out the entire soundtrack late into the night.

 

Then when it was time to go to sleep, I gave them all glow bracelets and settled them in.

They talked FOREVER...no one got much sleep!

 

Morning came way too soon as I heard them all chattering well before the sun was up.

 

The girls were too happy to be with each other.

 

 

 I served up breakfast, they watched Barbie and made Rainbow loom bracelets and then headed home.

 

 

It was a success. There were no tears and no drama. 

Vivi had a blast and her friends declared it the best slumber party ever...

nevermind that it was all of their first!

 

I see many, many more of these in our future.