October

This month stirs up so many emotions in me from reflecting upon those 5 precious lives we lost before Matthew, to the 7 we have lost since Matthew, to the women still walking infertility, to those wishing and praying for a precious baby to call their own after loss, to the parents that buried their babies that were called to heaven too soon, and the families of early loss that are left wondering if they had a son or daughter.

It makes my heart ache. It always has. Even before I walked this road I would cry when it was spoke about on the radio, cried as a friend reached out and told me about her loss and their struggle with trying to conceive.

In that valley, it can feel so dark. So lonely. So isolating. I turned my back on God during that time...going through the motions. I stopped praying. I stopped speaking to him. I focused on the pain, the hurtful words spoken unknowingly by others. Until one day late at night, doing laundry and listening to worship music...I found God again. Tears fell down my face as I declared it was enough. I was tired of feeling defeated. I was tired of feeling hopeless. I leaned on scripture harder than I can honestly say I have ever done in my walk with the Lord.

I wanted to be able to come out filled with joy and Jesus in spite of our circumstances so that this Psalm would be able to ring true for my life.

He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord.
PSALM 40: 3, NLT

I can't say that life has always been easy since that moment. Life seems to always get in the way of living with and for Jesus, doesn't it? At least for me anyways, I stumble and I fall but when I remember to find my footing on Jesus and seek the hope and joy that I have in Him and find the strength to face another day. Most of the time with the ability to smile and laugh at the day to come.

Infertility Strikes

I found this edited post back from January 2015, and it broke my heart to read it, but is such a great reminder of the rawness in my heart at times. 

I am most comfortable in my skin when there is a pen in my hand or facing a screen pouring my heart and soul into thoughts visible for the world to see. Much easier to pour the words out with tears running down cheeks than letting them flow uncomfortably in front of others at times.

My heart is breaking again. We are officially the most fertile infertile couple I know. Staying pregnant is our issue. I don't know which is worse, never seeing a positive test or now saying we have 12 babies in Jesus' lap. So many comments have came flooding in the past month and a half. "Maybe you guys should think about stopping trying." "Maybe you need to let your body rest." "Maybe you should take a break" "It's too painful to continue this way." "At least you have Matthew." "Again?!" And then the people that get it say things like "Matthew really is a miracle." "My heart is breaking for you, I am so sorry."

I'm to the point that every baby deserves to be celebrated...but I am weary of the loss. The grief. The looks or comments that make me feel stupid for having hope. Much like the same voices that tried to make me doubt that whisper from God that he would bless us. When we were a year and a half into trying and 3 or 4 losses at that point.

I don't know why he chose this path for us to be on. I hate the fact that we have so many babies waiting for us in Heaven. Some days it makes me feel like a baby killer, other days it makes me so angry and sad that God would create life just to take it away.

It has impacted both of us terribly. My heart hurts on an almost daily basis. James has almost reached the last straw. We have to make a time to sit down and talk about how many more losses we will go through before James goes to get snipped. My heart mourns that talk, that decision, possibly as equally as our losses. Closing the door. Telling God we aren't welcoming him to move in the expansion of our family or having faith that he can sustain a pregnancy in my hostile uterus.

I wonder often if this ache is one that will never go away. It may fade but, you cannot erase the impact of infertility. It has drawn James and I closer together. It has put a wedge between some friends and family. It has wounded my ability to feel fully comfortable with friends at times because I have one foot in feeling infertile and yearning for more children and the other in motherhood. That might not make sense to some.

I know no one in person that has my same issues with infertility. It can feel lonely sometimes. Disheartening.  Maddening.

One thing is for certain I am not ready to throw in the towel but rather make sure we have the kitchen sink ready to be thrown at our issues before we close this door.