seasons and purposes

So...I realize that my last post may have made me sound like a butthead.

Especially since I posted it during National Infertility Awareness Week.

If I offended anyone, I'm sorry. It's just how I've been feeling lately......and I guess it's kind of my way of helping myself move on. And, it was my way of acknowledging the truth that "to every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." (Ecc. 3:1).

Maybe I could've said it that way instead of being a butthead about it.

So...I apologize. I'm in no way ashamed of how God grew our family. And, as Jack's Mom, commented...by the time our kids are older, many of the kids will have been conceived in "unconventional" ways.

I'm still up in the air about the privacy settings. On the one hand, I love that God can use my little bitty corner of the interwebz to encourage someone in their journey. On the other hand, I do feel like I should maybe be a little more careful about protecting G's identity. So...that's the constant battle that will be fought inside my head.

So...that's all to say that I'm still trying to figure out my season and my purpose. Not just here on my blog but just in different areas of my life.

But that doesn't mean that I'm going to stop reading your blogs. I'll still follow you, cry with you, hope with you, pray for you, and cheer you on.

And because I don't say it enough, I am so thankful for each of you who follow my nonsense and encourage me with your words. Because the encouragement does matter to me. It did get me through some very rough patches. And you are very much a part of my life testimony of God's extravagant grace.

I'll try to stop being a butthead. No promises, though. :)

decisions, decisions

It's National Infertility Awareness Week, and I don't really want to write about it. Because while, yes, we are technically still "infertile", the person who started this blog is so very different from the person I am today. And sometimes, I feel pretty terrible about that.

I feel terrible that I don't feel terrible anymore. That, in some ways, I've moved on.

But once, when I was a wee little lass, my mom told me that God gives us this strange ability to forget pain. This was, interestingly enough, in the context of the subject of childbirth. Where she told me things that a wee little lass shouldn't hear. I remember asking her, "Do you want grandchildren?" (Ha!)

She then told me that, while childbirth was extremely painful, the moment the baby is placed in your arms, the joy overwhelms the pain. And our God-given mechanism to forget the pain is nothing short of an act of His mercy. For, if we actually remembered every detail of the pain, we'd never want to give birth again.

Many years later, I feel like this holds true in so many places in my life.

Because if I remembered every detail of the pain of....

....rejection, how could I have continued to seek out opportunities for my education or career?

....disappointment, how could I ever trust people around me?

....heartbreak, how could I have ever taken the risk of being in love again?

....loss, how could I ever wanted to become pregnant again?

It is a great act of mercy that I can't remember every excruciating detail of the pain in my life. Otherwise I would be crippled with fear and anxiety. I could never move on.

If I never moved on, I would never have pursued the opportunities that got me where I am today, formed life-long friendships, married the love of my life, or have the most amazing son who will be the awesomest big brother in 7 months.

And I gladly say...the joy has overwhelmed the pain.

Please please please don't mistake this for me saying that I am shunning the infertility and loss community. I am so honored when someone shares their story with me. Infertility and loss break. my. heart. They always will. They have changed me.

But I'm starting to wonder about how I portray myself here and in real life. Because, truth be told, there was a time when being infertile was my identity. And, frankly, I wish I had never gone there. Today, I acknowledge that we have infertility, but I refuse to label or define myself with it. (Oh, and the survivor's guilt is sort of hitting me hard right now....)

And, part of me wonders if I should privatize some of the posts about G and Happy's fertility treatments. Because, even though Mr. T. and I have agreed it's okay to share this information with the world, and to a large extent we can't take back the information we've gladly shared, this is G and Happy's story, too. And, they haven't gotten a say in what we've shared. And, even though it's not something I'm ashamed of, people can be mean. I don't want them to be subjected to teasing because they were conceived in an unconventional way. And I don't ever want their identities to be the "IVF babies." To me, they are just like every child: a God-given miracle.

But, I know that not everyone will view them that way.

So...I don't know if that means I should stop writing here, pull all of the posts that were about G growing up, start a new family blog, and just leave this blog in anonymity. Maybe I should pull all of the infertility posts and put them somewhere? Or maybe I should just shut the site down all together and either stop blogging or start a new blog.

Decisions, decisions....your thoughts and opinions would be greatly appreciated here....:)

2:00 am

It's 2:00 am, and I can't sleep.

So I lay here in the dark, and I dream.

Dream about the little one sleeping soundly next to me, and the little one growing inside of me.

I set aside all of my worries about how Happy's arrival might negatively impact G, and dream about the bond they will share.

Lord-willing, they will live under the same roof for at least 16 years. They will share everything and every experience, but they will fight to be individuals and learn who they are on their own.

They will sometimes think the other is the most annoying person on earth. But, secretly, they will think the other is the coolest. And they will soon realize that they agree that momma is the most annoying person on earth.

They will fight like cats and dogs, but the minute someone else talks about the other, they will be each other's greatest defender.

They will tell on each other, but they will soon learn to cover for each other.

They may occasionally feel jealous of the other, but they will be each other's biggest cheerleader.

They will know things about each other that no one may never know or understand.

They will dream together when they are young, and get to see some of those dreams come true as they get old.

They will comfort each other throughout life's inevitable hardships, and celebrate each other's greatest life moments.

Instant playmates.

Sparring partners.

Co-conspirators.

Best friends.

For life.

I am so grateful to have these moments to dream this dream.

Thank you, Lord.

slaying the beast

So...last Friday, I had my final "graduation" appointment from my RE's office. Mr. T. just started a new job and couldn't come, so my little sister, who was visiting from LA, came along.

Frankly speaking, I was half-expecting to not see a heartbeat. I was bracing myself for bad news. And, at one point, I felt bad for inviting my sister to come. Getting bad news at an ultrasound is pretty shocking and, for lack of a better term, awful. Horrible. Ungodly. I'd imagine being there "for the ride" would be, in some ways, even worse. No one should have to sit through those heavy moments when the nurse and doctor shove the ultrasound around, trying to get the baby to move. No one should have to hear and see that her child or nephew/niece is dead. For me to potentially impose that on my lovely sister seemed too cruel. (Sorry, H!)

So when the nurse said, "There's the nice strong heartbeat of 178," I felt like the weight of the world lifted, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

And even though I had that confirmation just a few days earlier, I got nervous again yesterday, when I went to my first OB appointment and waited in the same ultrasound room where, almost two years ago, I heard the words, "I'm sorry, but I can't find a heartbeat for Baby B."

Where I asked, "....is that...bad?", hoping that they'd give me a different answer than the one that I already knew in my head.

Where I lost a part of my heart forever.

Since then, I've realized that I have braced myself for the worst at every subsequent ultrasound.

Pregnancy loss is an ugly beast like that. It destroys your sense of security. It feasts on your anxiety. It mercilessly and relentlessly tries to steal your joy and hope.

And yet, Happy is doing fine. His/her heartrate was 185. And he/she is the cutest, wiggliest little gummy bear.

So, I'm trying my best to just relax and enjoy being Happy's momma.

To not be weighed down by the fear of the what-ifs.

To actually allow myself to get excited and wonder with my doctor if these high heartrates means that there is a little girl in there.

To be grateful for every moment that I get to love this little one on earth.

To slay the vicious, lying beast with Everlasting Truth.

So do not fear, for I am with you;
do not be dismayed, for I am your God.
I will strengthen you and help you;
I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

Isaiah 41:10

torn

Sometimes, I wake up and think..."How did I get here?"

Not the figurative here, but the actual here. Here. Northern Virginia.

I mean...I grew up in Arizona. People knock it, especially here on the East Coast. I've heard people say it is "fly-over country" or other disdainful things because of what they read in the news about the politics or whatnot. Most of these people have never stepped a foot inside my beautiful home state, which happens to be full of good people. My childhood friends. My crazy beautiful family. To the critics, I sometimes want to say, keep flyin' over. Trust me, the great state of Arizona won't be missing a thing.

And then, I found my second home in Los Angeles. Again, some East Coasters knock Angelenos as "soft" or superficial and shallow. But again, it's beautiful (no...amazing...) and there are some really good people there. Some of my best friends are there. They are amazing. To some peoples' credit...some of them shake their heads when I tell them where I went to school and can't believe I would choose to come out here.

I wonder, too.

My wanderlust led me out of Arizona, and then out of California...and here I am. In Northern Virginia.

And I love it here, I do.

But my heart, it misses home. Not the physical location, but the people.

It grieves me to know that G won't grow up knowing some of the most important people in my life. In Mr. T.'s life.

Having my mom here the past two weeks made that even more apparent to me. I love watching her with G. I love spending time with her. I hate that I see her maybe 2-3 weeks out of the year. If I'm lucky. I see my siblings even less, and my dad even less than that. It makes me so thankful to have one of my sisters and my cousin out here in Nova, but I dread the thought of either of them moving away ever.

And I have these amazing in-laws that I know love us and would love to be near us.

And my extended family. And my childhood and college friends. How I wish our kids could have playdates and grow up together!

And yet...there is my whole life here. Full of people I love, too. Whose kids have grown to be my "nieces" and "nephews." And my wonderful job.

But...it kind of boils down to me wanting to be near my family. All of my family. Like, we-all-buy-houses-on-the-same-block type of nearness. (Well, maybe the same state would suffice. HA!)

Truth be told, if it weren't for my job, I am not sure we'd still be here.

Isn't that crazy?

But really, I don't like my chosen profession, except for my job. I don't think I could find another job in California that would make me happy. And that makes me so very sad.

And so very torn.

{OK...so today's post is definitely a first world problem type of post. Sorry, that I'm acting like a ridiculously spoiled sad panda, particularly on Good Friday. I am thinking of our Lord's sacrifice today and am so thankful. I'm just so hormonal. I miss my family. And I don't want my mom to leave next week. :( }

night night antics

I love this kid.

hormonal

Thank you for all of your congratulations. It's so special to be able to share our joy with you. :)

So...now that the one or two thing is answered...I'm now super curious about whether this baby will be donning pink or blue.

If we just recycled all of our blue stuff, I'd be estatic. I love love love love having my boy. And I would love to have two boys grow up as the best of friends. Well...that would be my hope anyway....

If we needed to supplement our wardrobe with pink (yes, I said "supplement" -- there is NOTHING wrong with a girl wearing perfectly great blue clothes...haha...) how fun would that be? Little dresses and tights. Headbands. Ruffled bottoms. EEEEEE! OK...maybe my girl wouldn't be in blue...haha.

My high betas have me wondering if we do have a girl in there. And Mr. T.'s inkling is pink. He's been spot on about all of our pre-ultrasound questions, so he might be on to something.

Interestingly, I'm not sure if this is hormone-induced, but I get pretty sad and teary whenever I think about G becoming a big brother. He is just so little. Will he understand? Will he be happy? Will he feel replaced? Will he be resentful? Will this just rock his world in a bad way? Will this destroy our happy little family?

Mr. T. doesn't have any of these feelings. My sisters think I'm being silly. Maybe it's because none of them are first-borns and they are really awesome siblings. Maybe it's because, as a first-born, I did (at one time) wonder if my parents kept having kids because I wasn't enough. I mean, I now know that's not true...they kept having more because I am so freaking awesome (hahahahahaha), but you know...those kinds of things just kind of stay with you as a first-born. [Yeah, yeah, I have a soft spot for first-borns. Sue me.]

As a result of all this worrying about G, I feel like I hardly think about or pray for Happy. And I feel really bad. Like I'm already failing Happy as a mom! Like I'm totally unequipped to be a mom again. Like I'm not going to be as loving a mom as I should be. Like I'm being super ungrateful for this new life in our family.

But those are all lies. LIES!

I am so grateful. I am so excited. G will be a great brother. It is wonderful having siblings. Our family is so blessed to be growing again.

I may not be a perfect mother. But, really, who is? I just have to do what I can to show my kids (KIDSSSSS???!!!!) that I love them, but more importantly, that they have a heavenly Father who loves them so much more than I could ever dream of loving them.

And all will be ok.

I just have to remember to breathe and take each step at a time.

And to take my vitamins.

So...yeah, it's been an interesting time for me, emotionally. Hormones. Gotta love 'em.

So, to my mom friends with more than 1 baby...any advice? Words of encouragement? Words of warning and terror? Just kidding about that last one...well, not really...I want to hear it all. The good, the bad, and the ugly.