Our Infertility Story (very very very very very very long!)

WARNING! The following is a very long post. I'm attempting to record all the things I want to remember someday, about Nicknack's babyhood. So I'm starting at square one - our bout with infertility. You have been warned.

When you tell people you're "trying" to have a baby, it always seems too descriptive. Don't you think? You hope they aren't getting any mental images that they'd like to immediately forget. Once you become pregnant, there are lots of pleasant ways to describe your condition, such as "expecting" or "in the family way." Well, okay, I've never actually used the latter phrase, but it seems like something some people somewhere must say.

But when you're "trying" to have a baby, what do you say? It becomes especially uncomfortable when you have been "trying" for a while, and smart aleck people suggest things like, "maybe you're not doing it right!"

I always said we were "hoping" for a baby. We did hope and pray, for fifteen months, before we were pleased (delighted! thrilled! over the moon!) to discover that we were, in fact, "expecting."

I realize that 15 months is nothing compared to the experience of many couples who have struggled or are struggling with infertility. But after the first six months or so, it starts to become pretty discouraging. About three weeks of every month are spent hoping. wishing. praying. dreaming. planning. The other week is spent recovering from disappointment. Each of those negative pregnancy tests felt like a door slammed in our face. NO! No baby for you!

During the week of post-pregnancy test self pity, the enemy tried to get inside our heads. You know. Ideas. Like, maybe God didn't think we should be parents. We did a pretty good job of telling him (the enemy, not God!) to jump in the lake. But sometimes it was difficult. Like when two fertile Myrtles (one from each side of our family) announced their unplanned pregnancies. Both were unmarried. Both were unemployed and uninsured. And for one, this wasn't the first surprise pregnancy.

We had to accept that God doesn't dole out kids on basis of merit.

We knew before we started, er, hoping for a baby that we were likely to run into problems. I won't bore you with the details of my own fertility issues, but I will point out that Penn's parents "hoped" for seven years before conceiving his eldest brother. Naturally, they assumed he would be their only child. As a result, he was coddled silly! Imagine their surprise when they had a baby girl four years later, another boy three years after that, and baby Penn three years after that. After seven years of infertility, they had quite the brood! (This explains why Penn's parents are in their 80s.)

Where was I. Oh, right. We weren't at all surprised when we ran into difficulties scheduling our own visit from the stork.

There was no way in satan's hometown I was going to wait seven years for a baby. Unless God, Himself, spoke to me directly in a dream (or something like that), I wasn't just going to wait around.

We discussed adoption before even starting all his family planning business. When Penn and I started dating I told him that I felt God had put the desire to adopt in my heart. He was totally open to the idea. We'd always discussed having a child or two - the old-fashioned way - then growing our family through adoption. We also talked about adopting an older child or children, and possibly becoming foster care. So we decided that should we have any trouble conceiving, we'd start the adoption process after about a year.

Because of our plan, I didn't anticipate feeling the way I did about not being able to conceive. I guess the desire to carry a child must be something God gives to most women. Even though Moms who adopt end up with the same miraculous connection to their babies/children, I think many probably experienced sadness when they had let one dream die to embrace another.

That's what we struggled with, when after about a year, we started the adoption ball rolling. However, we ran into some obstacles that made it apparent that if we did plan to adopt, it would be some time before adoption would be a possibility.

We researched fertility treatments, but both felt pretty strongly that super invasive procedures weren't the right path for us. We did have a few minor procedures, but in the end, they didn't result in a pregnancy.

We were at a pretty low place in August, 2005. For the first time in my life, I considered the possibility that I might never be another. Keep in mind that I'd gotten my first baby name book in elementary school. I'd shadowed a stay-at-home Mom during our high school's career week. I hadn't bothered to declare a major, graduate from college, or focus on climbing the corporate ladder. All because I knew I wanted to stay at home while my kids were little.

Penn had been less anxious to start a family. Before we'd met he could never imagine himself married. He didn't know whether he wanted to ever have children. Our timelines were different, so when we agreed to start working on making a baby, he was on board, but less "sure" about it. During this 15 month period, he gradually came to want a baby as much as I did. He held his breath about those darn pregnancy tests just like I did. He cried with me when the results were disappointing. And he moped around the house feeling sorry for himself, just like me. At this point, we were totally and 100% in this thing together.

That's probably one of the reasons God's timing was more perfect than ours. There are others. When we were just a few months along we moved our of that first little brick house we'd shared as newlyweds. As we sat in the near empty house - a shell of the happy home we'd made - the memories (and tears!) were overwhelming. Some of those memories were of those blue days when we felt like we would never be parents. But most of the memories were great ones. All the times we watched the same stupid movies over and over. All the times we laughed ourselves silly over something no one else would find amusing. All of our inside jokes. The times we danced together in our living room. The silly fights. Christmases. Birthday surprises. Snuggling together in our pjs. Reading the newspaper together on Sundays, after church.

We had almost four years together as DINKS. We traveled. We ate out, a lot, and at some good restaraunts. We saw every movie. We took road trips whenever the fancy struck us. We bought all kinds of fun things. We furnished our house. We spoiled each other at Christmas and on birthdays.

During those four years, we also changed. We became so unbelievably compitable. This from a couple who made a list of pros and cons to decide whether or not we should get engaged. Our biggest "con" was our incompatibility. We grew as individuals and we grew together. We found a church. We became church members. We slooooooowly became a Christian household. We started out as two selfish people, living together before marriage. We professed a belief in God and Jesus Christ and occasionally attended church. By the time we had Nicholas, God had somehow transformed us. I don't know how that couple who exchanged vows five short years ago could have become who we are today. We are still major screw ups, with far to go, who are in daily need of God's forgiveness, grace, and guidance. But the point is, we know that now.

God's timing was so much better than our own would have been.

Looking back, I wish I'd known that sometimes a negative pregancy test is not a "no," but a "not right now." When I think about Nicknack I know without a doubt that he is the baby God meant for us. If we'd conceived on our schedule, or been able to adopt, we couldn't have Nicknack in our lives.

I wish I'd known how special that time together, just the two of us, really was. I had no idea that escaping to see a movie would be such a rare treat. And I didn't understand that having a baby changes a marriage. That we would go from being "us" centered to "him" centered. Which is the greatest thing in the world! But I might not feel that way if I hadn't had that time to just have my husband all to myself, to be the center of his attention.

There are a lot of reasons why infertility was good for us, and good for our family. The most important reason is that it really did draw us closer to God, and it let us know in no uncertain terms that WE did not give life to our son, God did.

...to be continued.

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May Day

Happy May Day!

May is now my favorite month because it's our Nicknack's birthday month! And since he was born on the very last day in May, I get to celebrate him all month!

I'm naturally a sentimental person and this motherhood thing has really brought out that trait. Last night I went through all the photos we've taken since his birth. All of them. Oh, how I wish life came with a remote control! If I could, I would relive it all again and again and again. His birth. His tiny newborn newness. Nursing him. Rocking him.

Sigh. :)

I have a feeling I'm going to take a lot of trips down the old Memory Lane this month. Which is probably a good idea, since I have a terrible memory and need to record all the things I never want to forget. Also, since no one, to my knowledge, reads my blog yet, now would be a good time to get this all out of my system.

But today I'm just feeling such gratitude that the Lord would bless us by sending us this angel. One of these days I'll go into more details, but today I just want to focus on God's goodness. His sweetness. His mercy. His grace. His loving kindness. May I never ever forget Him who have us this baby and that our child belongs to Him.

"I asked the Lord to give me this child, and he has given me my request. Now I am giving him to the Lord, and he will belong to the Lord his whole life."
1 Samuel 1:27-28

Rants and Raves

I feel as if CNN has turned into "America's Most Shocking Videos" or YouTube, rather than a news program reporting the most IMPORTANT news of the day. You know, the war? International suffering. Political news. Things of that nature.

I am so tired of viewing one disturbing video after another: beatings. car accidents. car chases. anything involving a celebrity.

Just because video is available doesn't automatically make it nationally newsworthy.

And how must those affected by this footage feel? How would I feel if someone I love was killed in a car accident and CNN showed live footage of the wreckage, for the whole world to rubberneck?

When did one person's sorrow and tragedy become another's entertainment? I guess it's always been this way. We visited Rome on our honeymoon and I've never been anywhere that made me as sad as the Coliseum.

But back to my rant about television news.

The final straw was the coverage of the Virginia Tech shooter - particularly his hateful video. As if this image could possibly be beneficial to a nation in mourning. I thought about the mothers grieving the loss of their precious babies. And I thought about the shooter's mother, too. I wonder if this troubled soul was as precious to her as my Nicknack is to me. Airing this video was tactless, macabre, and wrong.

There just seems to be no dignity left in the world. No sense of shame. No new low that can't be reached.

My consolation is that God sees and hears all. He knows how much the darkness of the world hurts and scares us. He mourns with us. He hears our cries for those who suffer. More importantly, he hears their cries. He knows them intimately, and cares deeply for them.

My consolation is that God is lightness, with no darkness. Not even a little tiny bit.

My consolation is that this world is not my home.

I don't know how a person who doesn't know our God can deal with the darkness of the world. Or the darkness in their own heart. Or the darkness brought into their very own living room every morning, through their television.

The darkness would chew me up and spit me out, if it wasn't for Him. I mean, I think I would literally need to be institutionalized. Thank you God for being my Comfort, my Shelter, my Tower of Refuge and Strength. My Rock. My Light. My Home.

Moving to Texas? Probably Not.

Just tried to jokingly talk my husband into moving to Texas. "I've heard nice things about Austin," I offered. "Too hoooooot," he whined, er, replied.

We decided to research Austin's climate. Thank you Wikipedia.

Unfortunately, I started to read outloud before I previewed the material. "Austin has... a, um... humid subtropical climate..." Oh.

Subtropical? Really? Hmm.

I continued reading aloud. Until I go to the last sentence of the paragraph. Then I tried to just let my voice trail ever so slightly as if I'd l merely lost interest: "...and tornadoes are not uncommon in the region." (quietly. in a monotone. so as not to compete with the History Channel.)

I glanced at Penn. Just sitting in his chair, half listening, half watching some show about something. Ha! He'd missed that last part.

30 seconds later.

"Wait... Whaaat?"

Darn it.

Don't you just hate it when what you said to someone only half listening finally catches up?

Well, we did agree to take a vacation to Texas next year. Not in the summer, though. And not during tornado season, obviously.

Success

Edited to add: sorry so long AGAIN!

When I was an ICS (aka Immaculate Conception School - no kidding!) cheerleader in junior high school, one of the first cheers we learned was: "S-U-C-C-E-S-S! That's the way we spell... SUCCESS! Comets! Sucess!" Kind of a random cheer, I think. But very motivational.

Anyhoo, I'm one of those self-help book types. I can't get enough of them. I usually stick to Christian authors, although I occasionally read business books, as well. So you can imagine how my ears perked up when our Senior Pastor (Dr. Bryan Burton) opened his sermon with a question. "How do you define success?"

I quickly answered. Not out loud. It's not that kind of church. We're Presbysterians, for gosh sakes. Anyhoo, my thought was "success is achieving goals." I don't achieve very many goals. That's why I don't think of myself as a success. My husband whispered to me that his definition was "being happy." Which is why he thinks of himself as successful.

So anyway, our Pastor introduced us to the thoughts and writings of "Brother Lawrence," a monk who wrote about success as practicing the presence of God.

Pastor Bryan tied this in with our study of Genesis, and specifically, Joseph. You see, we've been going through the chapter of Genesis. Since January. January 2006. Two thousand and SIX. Just in case you missed that. Oh, from time to time we explore another subject for a sermon or two or three. We took a break during the holidays. But then it's right back to Genesis. And I've got to tell you... I love it.

When we, as a church, embarked on this journey through Genesis our ladies groups also started The Patriarchs, a Bible study by Beth Moore. Well, obviously we finished that a long time ago! In fact, right around the time my little Nicknack arrived. (On a side note, don't you just love Beth Moore? I wish she would come be my neighbor.)

So Joseph is somewhat familar territory to me and I couldn't wait to hear about him again. We're up to the part where Joseph has been wrongly accused by Potiphar's wife, and imprisoned.

Our pastor talked about success as the world sees it. But he pointed out Joseph was successful, wherever he was. As a "household manager," as a prisoner, and as a powerful right-hand-man to the Pharoah.

Rather than achieving success, Dr. Burton talked about the concept of receiving success, much as we receive grace. Totally unearned. True success being "practicing the presence of God," whatever our situation. Having God with us and in us at all times.

Oh how I wish I had the spiritual gift that would be necessary to properly convey the message of the day. I plan to borrow a CD this week, so I can listen again. I also took notes that I need to review.

All in all, it was a wonderful service. We sang two of my favorite songs (Isaiah 43 and How Great is Our God). Nicknack, as always, had a ball in the nursery. We always go fetch him early so he can join us for the worship music after communion.

Then we came home to a sunshiney backyard, which the boys enjoyed whilst I worked on my accounting homework, albeit from the sofa, so I could at least watch them play in the new sand/water table.

Sundays are the highlight of our lives around here. I hope they're your favorites too!

What is it about Texas?

I've noticed that of the dozen or so blogs I read on a regular basis, all but ONE of the bloggers are from the Lone Star state.

What's up with that?

Are all Texan ladies so funny, eccentric, and full of the Spirit?

I live in a very "unchurched" corner of the world - Seattle. I wonder what it would be like to live in a place where the majority of people worship as a family on Sunday.

My beloved Grandma (my mumsy's mother), Betty Jean was a Texan. She hailed from Ft. Worth, although she married my Grandfather when she was 18, moved far away. She and my Grandad homesteaded in Alaska and made it their home until their golden years, which they spent here, in Washington State. I've always thought of Grandma as an Alaskan. But I still have a soft spot in my heart because if my Grandma was from Texas, it must be something pretty special. She was one in a million.

I know that I could never live in Texas, however, for two important reasons.

1. The weather. Specifically, the heat. And the humidity. I just couldn't take it.

2. The insects/spiders. Now I don't know if this applies to the entire state, since it is, after all, such a big one. But I've heard tell of insects. Spiders. Scorpians. Cockroaches. Did I mention spiders? Now we have some pretty unpleasant spiders in our neck of the woods. They like the dampness and the greenery, I suppose. But they don't get terribly large.

On a completely unrelated note, I have to have trees and hills. My husband calls it "geographic diversity." I think Austin is supposed to be hilly and green, so that might work. I would miss the mountains, but I could live without them.

Finally, I don't know if our somewhat progressive political view would fly. Would we be the neighborhood pariahs? We're pretty "blue state." Although I am absolutely pro-life. We're actually pretty middle-of-the-road. But, you know, by Seattle standards.

And I'm not into guns. Would my son be a social outcast if he wasn't allowed to go hunting? Fishing would be fine.

These are things I would worry about.

So I'm sure everyone in Texas is sighing a sigh of relief because they don't have to worry about us relocating to Texas. There goes the neighborhood, right? But if it wasn't for the heat and insects, I would seriously consider trying to talk Penn into moving somewhere that seems to grow the loveliest ladies on the internet.

KISS!

It hasn't escaped my attention that my blog entries are entirely too wordy.

This is going to be a problem, for me, I can tell.

I will need to work on keeping things concise. I shall try to "keep it simple, stupid."

But this will certainly be a challenge for me, as I tend to say (or write) everything that pops into my head. It must have been all those stream of consciousness writing activities in Mrs. Forster's English classes!

This blogging business is much harder than expected!

How is it possible that I have nothing interesting to say, yet manage to go on and on?