25 Weeks: The Gift of Infertility

There I was, kissing my two year old angel goodbye, and struggling to climb semi gracefully out of the car. At 25 weeks pregnant, "graceful" is quickly becoming a thing of the past. I balanced a handful of trash, my water bottle and my purse, and walked quickly toward the park.

As I tried to contain the prego-waddle while shuffling toward the bridge, I saw the person I was meeting.

Today, I met with a young woman struggling with infertility.

 

Today, I met myself. 

As we walked the lake a few times, it was like looking in a mirror. The questions she asked, the emotions she expressed, the tears she shed ... It was like stepping into my own past.

It hasn't been that long, and yet it has. As infertility consumes and defines you, so does pregnancy and motherhood. 25 weeks into my second successful pregnancy, and I am surprised at how infrequently I remember the infertility. Even with a miscarriage less than a year ago, I am much more "mother of toddler" and "pregnancy guru" than I am the "infertility voice" that I was.

And yet, it's all still there. All I had to do was hear this young woman ask me questions like:

Were you able to still enjoy life in the midst of trying to conceive? 

How did you connect with your husband in the midst of the pain? 

Were there days you were just sad? 

Was there ever a time you just didn't think you could ever hope again?

Is there any way to not be consumed by it? 

I remember. I remember the darkness. I remember the pain. I remember the desperation, the inability to pray, the discouraging moments when you realize you might not have any more capacity for the disappointment that follows high hopes. I remember the tears. I remember the bitterness. I remember the guilt, the desire to show excitement for friends, the horrifying days when you recognize your lack of trust in the Lord.

I remember.

And as I told this young woman today, as we exchanged tissues and tears, I am so incredibly grateful that God has redeemed our pain. He has and continues to use our journey of infertility to minister to others. And not only does He use it now--He used it during the pain.

And that's my hope is that we can all realize that God doesn't wait for our pain to pass, for us to come up from under the darkness to use it all for good. If we allow Him to, He can and will start now. 

So if you are in the midst of pain, as many of us are--in some way or another--ask God to use it, redeem it, work through it NOW. Don't wait for later, when it's over and in the past. Might as well start using it for good.

What an incredible gift those almost three years were--those years of crying, beseeching, shouting, stonewalling, learning, grieving, growing, hoping, stretching. And now, 25 weeks pregnant with Baby Boo, God allowed me the incredible honor of reaching back into my not so distant past to help encourage another woman, desperate to be a mother, and aching with the pain of unfulfilled hopes.

I hope I never forget. Ever. The pain of infertility continues to shape my path, and makes me who I am--and I am so grateful for it.

Oh How Life Has Changed

Mother's Day in 2009 ... I purposefully scheduled a weekend getaway so as to not have to be at church.

(Granted, I mixed up my dates, and we actually had our getaway the weekend before Mother's Day, so I ended up still at church that morning. But you get the point--I did NOT want to be there.) 

2009 Blog

Mother's Day 2010 ... I had a 2 week old! Quite a change from the year before.

2010 Blog

Mother's Day 2011 ... I hardly remember. Our life had just been turned upside down, and that following weekend we were headed to Madison, WI to see what God had in store for us at Ezra Church. It's a blur to me! 

2011 Blog

Mother's Day 2012 ... I'm pregnant with Baby Girl, halfway done! I'm heads over heels in love with my little buddy, Joshua, and incredibly blessed to do life with a man who loves me as unconditionally as a human can. 

I feel like this is the first Mother's Day that I truly experienced as a mother. 2010 I was barely a mom--still sleep walking, and recovering from natural delivery. :) 2011 was, like I said, a blur. This year--this year--I really appreciated the day, and felt truly appreciated. By my husband, who let me take a nap, go shopping and eat pizza and by my son, who is old enough now to give me random hugs, say "I-ol-u, Mama!" (I love you, Mama!), and ask me to "cuddlecuddlecuddle" relentlessly.

Motherhood--what a long awaited, and incredibly cherished blessing.

Happy future Mother's Day to all of you out there who wish-hope-dream to be mothers someday. I've been there, and I know how this day can pierce a heart ... Claim Psalm 62:5 this morning .... Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from him. And focus today on cherishing the mothers in your life!

Sure, Steadfast Anchor of my Soul

Hebrews 6: 18b-19a: ... have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul ...

I was home this weekend sort of by accident. My flight out of Sacramento was delayed 2.5 hours, causing me to miss my connection in Denver. So, I was pushed to a 10pm flight, and got to spend my 10 hour layover with my family. What a blessing in MAJOR disguise! 

Except that I miss my family. And lately, I just miss being home. Not that Wisconsin isn't home--of course it is because Erik and Joshua are there. But really, Colorado is home. That's where I've lived for over half my life. It's where I spent all of my marriage until now. It's where I built community, it's where my family is. 

It's home and I miss it. 

But, God has called me to be away from my home. Which, really, as a Christian, I should be used to anyway, as we are all longing for our eternal home, away from this world. (Though Colorado Rocky Mountains in the summer are pretty close to that eternal home, I think ...)

This verse struck me this morning. Home is not my sure steadfast anchor. Neither is family. HOPE is. Hope in Christ is my sure, steadfast, anchor of my soul. 

And for that I'm very thankful, because without that, it'd be super hard to be this far away from home.

11 Weeks: Taco Bell & Pizza Pit

What is up with pregnancy making me want the nastiet food EV-ER?! It's ridiculous really. When I should be eating the best foods ever, to assist in my health as well as my growing baby's, I want Taco Bell and Pizza Pit. Both of which caused me such indigestion and, ahem, digestion issues (to put it nicely) I half thought I was miscarrying and have now determined I will never EVER eat those things again!

(Well, Pizza Pit I'll probably give another chance. But considering I vowed off Taco Bell 4 years ago, and only gave in recently due to a prego craving, I'm back on my vow. That stuff is NAS-TY. Gross.)

On another note ...

I pulled out all of my maternity clothes this week. A few weeks ago, I panicked because I thought I'd lost them all in our move. But fortunately, we found them! I ran 'em all through the dryer to shake out the wrinkles, and made space for them in my closet. A few times I caught myself thinking, "Man, it sure would suck if I lost this baby cuz I'd have to pack all these clothes back up and that'd be hard. Maybe I should just keep them packed away instead of being hopeful..."

Funny how the brain works, isn't it? I have no reason to believe this pregnancy isn't going just fine. I have no reason, other than random statistics on the web that I refuse to read, to think that anything will go wrong. And yet, in a perfectly normal moment, fear of loss tries to break through.

Even at 11 1/2 weeks, it's a daily battle to surrender every twinge, every passing cramp, every thoughtless worry. You think seeing the ultrasound, or hearing the heartbeat, or getting strong blood results will make everything okay. But that reassurance wears off, and the weeks until the next appointment seem long, and so you trust. And waver, and trust and waver and trust .... and on and on it goes until that little baby is delivered into your arms.

Having been through a whole pregnancy and birth and now two years of motherhood, I of course now truly understand how it's a never-ending act of surrender. Every day, my little boy--my joy, my love, my life--has to be surrendered to God--who is my Joy, my Love, my Life.

Surrender. Who woulda thought I'd get from Taco Bell & Pizza Pit to Surrender?

Not I, I tell you. Not I.

What do you need to surrender today?

9 Weeks: 5th Time's the Charm

Actually I guess the 3rd time was the first charm ... Joshua Nelson being said charm. Man, I love that kid.

But apparently (fingers still crossed pretty hard ... ) the 5th time is the charm for us too.

An emotionally grueling week and a half of spotting behind us, a heartbeat seen, two blood clots discovered, the official announcement (Facebook is the official thing these days ....) completed, the fatigue full on, the heart burn raging .... seriously, I'm only NINE weeks along?! Are you serious? I feel like I've been pregnant forever! :)

To be clear, I'm loving every minute.

It sure is different doing this the second time around. (Well, the 5th time around, but only the second time we've made it to a heart beat, so yeah--totally awesome by the way!) Poor little Joshua--Mama dozes on the couch for most of the morning. Good thing he has learned to play so well by himself to the background noise of Cat in the Hat, Super Why, Dinosaur Train, and Sesame Street.

If you read my post from earlier this week, you know that the early weeks of this pregnancy were drama-filled, per usual for our household. I still remind myself every day to breathe a prayer of thanks for this little one inside of me, as I play with and chase the little one who brings joy to my life every day.

It's such a miracle when a child is actually brought from conception, through pregnancy, and into this world to grow and develop and touch the lives of those around him. We had days where we thought Joshua would never be a name we got to use. We wondered if children were not in our future ... and then, once we were blessed with our little angel, we were always very aware to continue to have hearts of gratitude--and hearts that had learned the hard way not to assume we'd be able to have more children.

Every child is a blessing--we all know that. And for us, they are blessings we never count on having. We agreed early on that if God blessed us only with Joshua, then we would be forever grateful. At least we had our Joshua. So now, to be pregnant with another, with a heart beat, with the hope of bringing another Lindeen baby into the world in September ... we are speechless. We are so honored.

When we decided it was time to start trying again, we fully prepared our hearts for another journey. More charting, more waiting, more timing, more hoping, more praying ... but it worked! The first time! We couldn't believe it, and truly, still can't. It's absolutely incredible!

I keep telling Joshua, "My Mommy heart is so full--I'm so in love with you, and so thankful for Baby L" He just grins, points at my tummy, mutters something in jibberish and gallops away to play drums or drive "woo-woos" (trains).

Truly, my Mommy-heart is so full, and I know it's only going to get fuller. We are so incredibly thankful for this unexpected turn in our journey--an easy conception, and hopefully, a smooth pregnancy from here on out.

Here's to Baby L!

I Don't Want to Want It

"I just really don't want to want it again, until I get it, and then I want to want it fully. Make sense?"

I muttered this to my husband as we both attempted to drift to sleep, each battling our own never ending colds and rarely silent thoughts. Fortunately (or unfortunately) he totally understood what I meant.

It's starting. Well, really, it started to start in October, but now it's really starting.

The baby itch.

Sigh. I'm so not ready for this ....

I got great news from two good friends yesterday. One friend is having a girl, and the other is newly pregnant. I'm so excited for them both! And then it hit me .... I want to announce a pregnancy. But I don't want to start the process that is most likely inevitably our path to conception and pregnancy. I don't want to chart, I don't want to give myself shots, I don't want to "try" and "try" and "try" .... I don't want to want it, until I get it, and then I want to want it fully.

Make sense?

I'd like another child ... perhaps even another after that. But the memory that is not far from my mind and my heart of the yearning and longing and painful waiting makes my stomach twist in knots. The fear of more miscarriages, later term miscarriages, gobs and gobs of money, days and days of charting ... it's almost enough to make me not want to try.

The thought of wanting to be pregnant, longing for it, yearning for it--it drains me. It scares me.

I don't want to want it until I get it. If only we had the luxury of an "oops".

As I told a good friend this morning, our journey to Joshua has touched so many others who have had similar struggles. I guess I can get behind another tough journey if it means we can touch more lives. But sometimes, often times, in my most genuine moments, I just want to be "that woman" who gets pregnant just by looking at her husband and carries easily to term. Sometimes, often times, I don't want to be "that woman" who God works through in her pain and sadness to minister to others.

Of course, though, if this is our path--to struggle in this life to conceive our children and use that pain to touch others--then we are honored that God would redeem our pain, redeem our sadness, redeem our struggle for His good purpose.

It'd just be really great to not want it until we got it, but I'm guessing that's not how this is going to go .... So, let's get on with it!

Quite the Journey Together

A week less than 9 months ago, my good friend and her husband sat with me on my guest bedroom floor. They had just flown in from Minnesota for a visit, and we were catching up. At one point, my friend’s husband said, “So, can please talk about how annoying it is that everyone’s getting pregnant?”

See, this friend and I had bonded over our struggle to conceive. Well, actually we bonded years before that when we voted together, and ran together—all in one day—but that’s another story. For the previous many months, we had walked side by side on a nasty infertility journey. And here her husband was joining the conversation.

Less than 2 weeks later, my friend and her husband joined the pregnant club, and two months after that conversation with friends on the guest room floor, Erik and I did as well. Absolutely incredible!

Last night, my friend texted me around 9:00pm that she was in the hospital, ready to have her baby! Is God good or what? We never would have guessed we’d actually be here. Well, I know we hoped and trusted, but to actually be here is truly incredible.

God is so faithful!

As overused as it is, this verse comes to mind:

“I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord. Plans to prosper and not to harm you. Plans to bring you a hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

It’s with many many tears and a very full heart that I welcome my dear friends’ little girl into this world.

And greatly anticipate the birth of my son!

They will be married, you know. :)

Stages of Pregnancy ... Not My Own

I am becoming an expert on the stages of pregnancy. Sadly, not my own, since neither of mine have gotten much further than pee on a stick, get excited, bond a little tiny bit with the essence of the being inside me, then cry my guts out.

Sorry to start this blog with such a downer! Wow. Sometimes I'm just a bummer to be around!

Anyway ...

No, I'm becoming an expert on the stages of my friends' pregnancies. Not on the nuts and bolts (though I do hear an awful lot about breast feeding classes, midnight cravings, and changing bodies), but on how an "infertile" person deals with the experience. I've only recently realized that there are actually stages to accepting others' pregnancies. And since this blog is all about me (just in case you were confused and thought it was about something else) and you getting "Glimpses of Me" and what's going through my head, I'll elaborate.

Stage One: This stage is optional, depending on the closeness of the friend, the openness of our relationship, and the circumstances of the conception. If I am lucky, I become aware that a friend is actively trying to conceive. You might be surprised, but this is a Stage for me. It takes time for me to come to terms with this new information. I even tell my friends that I will try to pray for success, but that most likely, I just physically will not be able to. With most, this stage is skipped.

Stage Two: Obviously, the announcement. If I knew the friend was trying, the announcement is a little easier to take. If I had no clue, it pretty much blind-sides me and sucks. If the announcement includes a "oops" in it, or a "we weren't even trying yet", well, that just knocks me down and sending me tumbling into at least a week of "Why, God?" and "It's just not fair!!" I had a very close friend ask me recently what to do when she gets pregnant. Should she call? Should she email? Should she wait for a face-to-face if possible? No, no and no. And yes, yes, and no. And no. And yes ... and I don't know ... My answer is this: My ability to respond with excitement is based almost completely on where I am in my monthly crappy cycle. It pretty much has nothing to do with how good of friends we are, or how much I love you or am happy for you. It has everything to do with A) If I was already bracing for it (i.e. I was blessed with a Stage 1) B) How recently I have been denied, yet again and C) How many other people have announced pregnancies lately. Stage Two is obviously a tough one. On to ...

Stage Three: The Sex of the Baby announcement. Surprisingly enough, this is a stage. Typically by the 20th-ish week U/S I have come to terms with the fact my friend is pregnant, and have actually started expressing interest, asking questions--you know, acknowledging it. And then the "It's a Girl!" or "It's a Boy!" (though in reality, they've all been "It's a Girl!" ones lately ...) comes. Whether I get a text, see a status change on Facebook (ugh. Pregnancy announcements on FB...that's a whole other blog), or get a personal phone call, this stage always hits me with a surprising rush of emotions. Now, because all the recent announcements have been female ones, I am not sure if I would have the same emotional response if it were a boy. It is the announcement itself? Or is it the announcement of a girl specifically? I guess I won't know until someone finally has a boy. Either way, as it stands, Stage Three sets me back a few days. Like I said, I've just adjusted to the friend's pregnancy and now I'm forced to re-accept, re-question, re-shout-unfair!-at-God, and re-pout about my lack of pregnancy. My lack of "girl-baby" pregnancy, in particular. But of course, I get used to it and slowly begin reaching out, asking questions ... moving on. Dealing, as usual. And it's all good. Until ..

Stage 4: The newest stage. The one I'm just now beginning to experience. It begins with Facebook Labor updates, centimeters dialated, contraction counting ... And all of the sudden, barely hours later, I'm hit with the stark truth: My friend is now a Mommy. Forever changed, forever. It takes a couple days to understand--she is a Mom. A Mother. A Mama. She is my age, and yet, has a baby. She does, and I don't. I get very apprehensive about seeing my Mommy friend and her new precious angel. I get very emotional, and I want to run and hide. I don't want people to pity me when they see me around the new baby. I just want to be gone, away from the babies. This stage is frustrating to me, because I wish I could just freaking be excited for my friend. But, in my life right now, I just can't. There is so much more for me to deal with first, to work through and accept. See, it's because I should be carting a two year old on my hip when I go to visit these new babies. I should be an experienced mother by now. Instead, I'm just not.

I thought this was it. I thought it was Four stages and I was
forever stuck in the "My Friend is a Mommy?!" stage.
Turns out, thankfully, I was wrong.

Stage 5: I hold the baby. My wounded soul is bandaged; my heart swells with tentative hope. On Sunday, a brand new beautiful baby was thrust into my arms, all 6 pounds something ounces of her ... and I starting bawling. Bawling out of pent up fear and confusion (see Stage 4), bawling out of months of emotion spent on acknowledging, and accepting this little one's existence (see Stages 2 and 3), bawling out of jealousy and bitterness melting away and hope seeping into the empty space. Bawling, just bawling. Because I don't know what else to do. I don't know anything anymore, except that now, months later, the baby is here. Unlike my babies, this one came to be. This one was used by God (already! She's like, a week old and being used by the Lord!) to touch my soul, and remind me of the glimmer of HOPE that I've stuffed down and covered up with my nasty reality, bitterness, fertility treatments, and angry blogs.

The Stages of Pregnancy ... each one is so difficult for my wounded,trembling heart to take. And yet, here I am, in each of those stages at various times, often overlapping stages, doubling up on stages, stuck in certain stages and all the while, wondering when I get a turn. When my little angel will appear and finally allow me to experience the real stages of pregnancy. Not just the stages of all of my friends'. I guess only time will tell, since God is being pretty silent. For now, at least I can hold my friends' babies and be reminded, even if just for a little while, of the amazing miracle of HOPE.

I Echo David ...

Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my sighing. Listen to my cry for help, my King and my God, for to you I pray. In the morning, O Lord, you hear my voice; in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation. Psalm 4: 1-3

A Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger or discipline me in your wrath. Be merciful to me, Lord for I am faint; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How long, O Lord, how long?... I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow … Psalm 6: 1-3, 6-7a

How long, O lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me? Look on me and answer, O Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death…But, I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for he has been good to me. Psalm 13

Turn to me and be gracious to me, for I am lonely and afflicted. The troubles of my heart have multiplied; free me from my anguish. Look upon my affliction and my distress and take away all my sins. Psalm 25:16-18

O God, do not keep silent; be not quiet, O God, be not still. Psalm 83:1

Hear my voice when I call, O Lord; be merciful to me and answer me. My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, Lord, I will seek. Psalm 27:7-8

To you I call, O Lord my Rock; do not turn a deaf ear to me. For if you remain silent, I will be like those who have gone down to the pit. Hear my cry for mercy as I call to you for help, as I lift up my hands toward your Most Holy Place. Psalm 28:1-2

All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you. My heart pounds, my strength fails me; even the light has gone from my eyes. O Lord, do not forsake me; be not far from me, O my God. Come quickly to help me, O Lord my Savior. Psalm 38: 9-10, 21-22

Awake, O Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever. Why do you hide your face and forget our misery and oppression? Psalm 44: 23-24

Hear my prayer, O Lord, listen to my cry for help! Be not deaf to my weeping. Psalm 39:12

O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. Psalm 30:2

I sought the Lord and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Psalm 34: 4

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their cry … The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; he delivers them from all their troubles. The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:15, 17-18

I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. Psalm 40:1

Find rest, O my soul, in God alone; my hope comes from him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will not be shaken. My salvation and my honor depend on God; he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge. Psalm 62: 5-8

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Psalm 73:26

“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation.”

Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. Psalm 116:7

We wait in hope for the Lord; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in you. Psalm 33:20-22

Packing Up HOPE

A week ago yesterday, I packed up HOPE. I was done, that was it--no more.

Erik and I had been informed of yet another pregnancy--yet another pregnancy that wasn't ours', that didn't seem "fair" and that caused us to ask, "Why not us?"

It's so hard for me to hear a person say, "We weren't planning this...it's not the best time....we didn't want this right yet...." It causes me to turn toward God and scream, "I WANT IT! Give it to me!! Stop giving it to the people who don't want it yet!!!!!"

So I packed up HOPE.

A long time ago, when we never dreamed our infertility would last this long, I painted the guest room pale yellow, with fun green, blue and white designs and called it a nursery. Many months ago, before we realized the struggle this would be, I bought a table at a garage sale and painted it blue. Hundreds of days ago, during a time when it made sense to HOPE, I purchased black iron letters and placed them on this table.

Ever since, this little table, with its blue finish, its cute white and green lamp, its collection of antique Disney books, editions 1-17, the pair of socks given to me when pregnant, and its four letters spelling HOPE has been a beacon of light in our house. A beacon that reminded me daily of the assurance I have, that no matter how hard it gets, my HOPE is in the Lord. That there is HOPE. That HOPE is key to survival.

But a week ago yesterday, I packed up HOPE.
I was done; that was it--no more.

I have spent the week questioning, yelling, crying ... and losing HOPE. I just figured, if prayer doesn't sway God, then why pray? If HOPE doesn't help, only hurts, why HOPE? If time doesn't heal, why continue on?

Every time I'd enter the former nursery, now confused, brightly colored guest room, my emotions changed. The first few times I went in, I felt almost victorious. Like, "There. Good. I win. It's over." As the week went on, and as I worked through my emotions with the Lord, and with good friends, my feelings upon entering the room changed. It became more like, "Huh. It's kinda empty" to "Hm. I kinda miss HOPE." to "Wow--I wonder if I'll ever bring it back?"

A week ago yesterday I packed up HOPE.

Today, I dragged it all out again. The lamp is back, the books are back, the teddy bears are back, the Noah's Ark painting it back, the stuffed bunny is back ... and HOPE is back.

It felt good to set it all up again--as if I've returned. I've never been one to quit. I've never been one to give up. I've just never had to struggle with something so hard, and so long before. It has been 881 days since we started this journey. 881 of praying, wishing, hoping, grieving, crying, yearning....2 miscarriages, one surgery and many puffy eyed mornings later, we're still here.

I only packed up HOPE for one week, and one day. HOPEfully, I don't ever hit that low again. The only way I've made it through 881 days of this, is HOPE. As hard as it is to HOPE; as much as it hurts ... there is no other way to do it.

HOPE is officially unpacked.

He is "I AM" ... No Matter What I Ask.

As a blogger, if I can really call myself that, I tend to mull over my blogs for a few days before I actually form them into words that appear on this screen. For a few days now, I've been percolating ... the next blog was going to be titled "Life's Not Fair ... Kristin--get over it." See, I have this incredibly deep seeded belief that life should be fair. I'm sure it comes from my childhood, though I can't really tell you how. Perhaps a psychologist could.

The blog was going to list all the ways life should be fair, but isn't.

You know, like how it's not fair that Erik and I have been trying for 2 years to get pregnant, and still don't have a child.

It's not fair that husbands and new daddies get deployed overseas.

Or like how a close friend of mine lost another pregnancy.

It's not fair that some are out of work and can't find a job.

Or like how it's not fair that I've had to start over mentally on this "trying to conceive journey" but that doesn't mean I can forget the first year and a half of trying, even though it didn't really count.

I could list a million ways that life isn't fair ... but what good would that do?

That was going to be the title of the blog, but please notice: It's Not.

Last night, I was at a TobyMac concert. In the midst of all of the crazy jumping, fist pumping and lyric screaming, I had a moment with God. It wasn't a loud moment, or a dramatic moment, but it hit me hard.

Singing along to "Lose my Soul", I suddenly realized I was singing these words:

"All eyes are on You, Lord ... Don't wanna lose my soul ... I'd give it all for You Lord..."
And instantly "Even children?" rang through my ears.

I'd give it all for You, Lord ... and something deep in my soul challenged that by asking, almost scoffing, "Even children? Even your deepest, most instinctive desire to bear your own children and hold them close and raise them? You would let that go?" Even as I write those words, I weep. I weep because my soul aches for that experience--that need to be a mother.

And yet, when that challenging thought echoed through my mind, my gut-level, without-a-thought reaction was "Yes." Wholeheartedly, with a broken and trembling heart, I said Yes.

Yes, Lord, not even my deepest desire is worth losing You.

This shocked me.

I realized in an instant how selfish I've been. How self-centered, how single-minded, how narrow-minded ... how childish. Yes, it's unfair. No, it doesn't seem right. If life was fair and all was right, I would have a 1 1/2 year old. If life was fair and all was right, there would be no miscarriage.

No heartache.
No pain.
No desperation.
No bitterness.

But life isn't fair. And in it all, God is still good. God is still bigger. God is still my all in all, my life-giver, my shepherd, protector and friend. God is still holy and just. God is still GOD. And if God sat me down, face to face and said His plan for me did not include carrying and birthing children, I would be okay. I would be broken, and I would ask Why? I would probably fight Him and question His goodness, His greatness, His wisdom .... His love.

But that wouldn't change Him at all. My questions don't change Who He is.

He is "I AM"

Hope Forever

if you knew me a long time ago, say high school or even early college, you would never believe what i did last night. I'm not sure what got me thinking about it, let alone actually doing it. in fact, my husband had been requesting that i be okay with him doing it sometime, and that had left me feeling nauseaus. and yet, i beat him to the punch.

perhaps it has something to do with the fact that my little sister wanted to do it, or maybe it has more to do with my faint rebellious streak that comes out every few years. But i'm assuming it had more to do with the painful events of 2007 and the journey i've been on ever since january 22nd 2007.

the word "hope" has become a thing for me. hope is an interesting concept. to have hope that something will happen sets a person up for disappointment. i had almost given up even having hope, because hope lets you down. and i was tired of being let down. somewhere though, early this year, i determined deep in my soul to hope yet again. perhaps it was the answers we received, or a deep sense of optimism that i'm often unaware of. either way, hope has been rising in my soul yet again.

and so, it is hope that i chose to have tattooed on my skin. hope (in hebrew) as an ever present reminder to persevere in hope, to live with hope, to never forget that in Christ, there is hope--not disappointment.

for i know the plans i have for you, declares the lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me and i will listen to you. ~jeremiah 29:11-12

not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. and hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the holy spirit, whom he has given us. ~romans 5:3