Good Catholic Families

Ask a Catholic when life begins and they will invariably tell you conception. They will detail the fertilization process that occurs between the male and female gamete, resulting in a distinctly and genetically unique human being that is both related to its mother and its father. They will tell you that everything after that moment can only be categorized as growth. But life begins at conception. Catholics agree on that.

Ask an infertile Catholic couple when a family begins and they will tell you the date on which they were married. Everything after that can only be categorized as growth.

But not all Catholics seem to champion this concept as much. Why is that? What is it about having children that makes a family more real or more Catholic? I'm beginning to believe that the decline of the family is, in part, due to this pervasive disbelief of when a family is "born". It's disordered to proclaim that a family begins at any time other than at the moment of marriage. What God has joined...

Are we really protecting Catholic families when we define them by the number of children they have produced? I can see where it could easily be a source of joyful pride to count the blessings of many children in a marriage. It's a dream I've had for my own life and my own marriage for many years - in fact, a dream I had long before I even married. But it seems like a way to disenfranchise and distance yourself from the true definition of marriage and from all who don't or can't enjoy the reality of many living children in their own family. Tell me - how many times have you heard a "good Catholic family" defined as one who occupies an entire pew length to themselves? I can't even keep count anymore. I'd actually offer that being a "good Catholic family" is now a euphemism for being a large family, with many children to its ranks. It seems to me that the essence of family is lost when its very definition is perverted to only mean or embody the extreme far end of the spectrum of fruitfulness that a marriage can enjoy. And while children are indeed a great blessing (ask any Catholic married couple, and I assume they would agree - since their very vows include welcoming children joyfully from God)....children aren't the only fruit of marriage. Good Catholic families sometimes have no children. And those families are remarkably fruitful. And they serve God in their openness to life in all kinds of ways. And I imagine my Heavenly Father being quite pleased with the entire lot of families that lack children in the same way as He is pleased by the lot of families that have any number of children.

I don't think anyone can protect or build up the concept of family (Catholic or not) by using examples of number to describe or explain goodness. It's actually a rather reductionist way of looking at family, if you ask me. It's like saying that there is room for every flower in God's kingdom except the infertile one.

The base unit of *any* family is always a married couple. If life begins at conception, then a family begins at sacramental marriage. It is a complete gift, right from the moment of its creation.

Many might ask: how exactly would you be able to visually pick out a couple at church who have lost 6 children and distinguish them from the couple occupying the entire pew in front of them with their 6 children? One couple are parents many times over...and so is the other. If we believe that life begins at conception, these families must be equal in gifts.

There is no "but" or "still" in this explanation. Both couples represent Catholic families.

And yet if infertility is something that sacramentally married Catholic couples encounter with each other, then that must mean that God's intentions for a fruitful marriage *also* include those who are infertile. In fact, there is no difference between the couple occupying their entire pew and a newlywed couple sitting in front of them, or the family of two that lost 6 souls sitting behind them, or the family on the other side of the sanctuary that was built through the unique gift of adoption, for that matter. They all represent Catholic family life. There is nothing diminished or multiplied by any of them.

Yes, children are a blessing. And if you ask any Catholic couple, they are a blessing worthy of great sacrifice. But they do not define or create a good Catholic family. We need to remember - out loud - to each other - and shared amongst our own families and friends - that God's Greatness and Glory lives in the sacrament of making a family on the day that a Catholic couple are joined together in marriage.

Everything after that is growth.

A Wedding Anniversary

Today began with the knowledge that I would inevitably be mentally processing the contents of the past year of life throughout my waking (maybe also my dreaming?) hours. While I see the wisdom of focusing on the good and all of the blessings this year, there is also very real pain that has been lived because (and since) I got married. Sooo......... much like one of the find-own-adventure books from years ago, that's how I'll be publishing this: as a circumflexion if you will, that can be read from both vantage points; two stories that connect at the seams and occurred in concert.

How to read the information ahead: both relevant posts are linked below. You (the reader) will choose which experience you wish to continue reading. Each of those posts will have a preface on them that links them back to this post, so that it makes sense to the reader what they are a primer for...

Thank you to my readers - who I am both grateful to and humbled in front of, because this story lived out loud - especially this one - is a tough one to type. I am all at once vulnerable by the honesty and details that are shared within this story and thankful that they are no longer just lived and left to occupy my memory.

I have read so many blogs over the years, infertility blogs amongst them, and the beginning of my journey down this unlikely path was very much colored by feeling I had nothing to offer to the conversation. "How did I even belong in that conversation so early?" I reckoned with myself. I silenced my thoughts amongst the sea of pain that others expressed, because I believed everyone else's stories held more meaning, more pain, and were more worthy of telling. A void in my life couldn't possibly be as painful as the same void in other people's lives walking this path of infertility/subfertility/miscarriage/etc. Obviously, God pulled me out of that painful chrysalis of thought and I found the courage to begin chronicling my own steps on this path on this blog recently. My thoughts here are mostly indistinguishable from yours. We are the same in so many ways. And we write to make sense of this thing we cannot make sense of so similarly. We hope we are taking steps forward that will bring us to realizing our deepest dreams (coated in our deepest fears). We go to sleep at night (or not) believing we are doing the right things to achieve those dreams, and yet unable to be certain we are walking anything but a circle as we live in each moment.

I write today for the women who have not found the courage to give volume to their voice. If anything you see in these posts is something you relate to - please know that I am praying for you. Please know that you are not alone. Please know that this journey is purposeful and I wish I could encourage you to join this walk out loud with me. It is helpful. And it is in hindsight, post by post, that I am beginning to see that.

God bless everyone reading here and thank you for keeping me in your prayers. May there be brighter days ahead. And if for some reason there are not brighter days in store, then Lord please make my eyes unable to discern the difference between gray skies and sunshine.


If you would like to continue reading about the year in review was like, click here.

If you would like to continue reading about what the year ahead will bring, click here.

The Year Ahead

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 Before you read this post, please make sure you read this introduction first.
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So much ground has been traveled in the past year and never before has a year been so easy to recall and recount than the one that began on my wedding day. I walked into marriage with some new diagnoses, aware that my daily realities would be changing just as much from my medical treatments as from my marriage.

The beginning brought with it a lot of opportunities to seek Christ on my knees. I am convinced He hears me loudest when I have no strength in my legs to stand. So with a humble, quivering heart - I encountered my marriage and my spouse and Christ in a new way when I entered into the sacrament of matrimony. None of the journey has been anything but purposeful. All of it has allowed me to see God's purpose for my life. And while very little of it might have been a path I might have chosen myself, there is beauty in the suffering that I walked because Christ has been so very close to me the entire way.

The year ahead will be filled with the knowledge that I have approached God's call to me and taken it on, irrespective of what it required of me. And I know my eternal reward is now tied to the soul of my spouse.

The year ahead will be filled with more medical unraveling, more answers, maybe some more mysteries, and hopefully some big successes. The focus will remain on my health. Anything more is welcome, but it is not expected.

The year ahead will be lived with gratefulness for how sweet life is even in its most minimal, tiny moments. And how overwhelming it is in the big moments. And how lucky we are to be able to experience the carousel that is all of them weaved together.

The year ahead will bring remembrance off the humble beginnings and underpinnings of the thing that is my marriage. It won't be taken for granted, because we know all too well how fragile and resilient it can be and has been.

The year ahead will bring good things because I will choose to see good things. And those things will be fruitful. And my marriage will be blessed exponentially because of that effort - no matter how exhausting that effort may make me.

The year ahead will be dedicated to finding the good, the holy, the infinite, the kind, the necessary, the timely, the graceful, and the beautiful things. It will be spent in that effort more than any selfish want I otherwise have. I will be grateful for what that exploration brings, even (and especially) when I cannot conceive of it.

The year ahead will be focused on hoping, however futile that mission may seem or be at this time next year. Our days are numbered on Earth and we are not in possession of the counter and I may never get another chance to look back in hope for greener pastures. Paul didn't get to do that, neither did Nathan, neither did my godmother, and perhaps Zulma may not be able to as well.

The year ahead will be under the spiritual direction of my children, who have gone before the Lord ahead of me - to speak on my behalf and intercede for me. Any endeavors that I undertake - professional or otherwise - will be done so keenly aware of the cause for Life and in support of it in some way.

The year ahead will be focused on living a more Christ-like existence because of the opportunity to suffer this past year. My prayer life will be expanded. My direction will be changed. My love will be cultivated and given more freely. My words will be more careful. I will be quicker to humor and slower to criticism. I will be faster to forgive and slower to condemn. I will spend this next year in search of virtue instead of success.

There is no competition that can attract me in the days head. My eyes are focused on God and my marriage and in the purification both can offer me - being one through the other and one in the same.

Jesus died on the cross so that I might find my way home someday. He knew my struggles before I bore them under my own weight. He knew my pain before it was felt. He knew my hopes and dreams and desires before I was even knit together and able to have them.

In the year ahead, Christ will rejoice with me. And I will look back at the next 365 days as a different person, with a changed heart, living in a marriage that I made with the hard work and nurturing I offered it. The struggle will be beautiful and worth the promise of the eternal reward.

And all of that will be Truth that I can see. Because all things are possible...

A Father's Heart

Triggers mentioned (miscarriage, molar pregnancy, ectopic pregnancy, infertility, subfertility)

"O eternal Trinity, You are a deep sea in which the more I seek, the more I find, and the more I find, the more I seek to know You."            -- St. Catherine of Siena

This year is the first time my husband is a father for the observance of Father's Day.

He has not lost any sleep from crying babies. He has not been repulsed by any stinky diapers. He has not spent hours of endless worry. Fumbled with swaddling techniques. Dealt with fevers. Or throw-up. Or any of those things.

We never met our children. We never got to celebrate any good news. We have no stories of hope and wonder and anticipation. We have no baby onesies. Or crib. Not even an ultrasound.

Today doesn't bring us the joy of children; it brings only confusion and a search for meaning.

Instead of oozing fatherly pride, my husband fumbles through unknown territory, struggling to process how he is a father and at the same time lost in what it means live up to that title. I wanted him to experience fatherhood in our marriage, but of course this isn't what I envisioned.

Today, like all holidays and anniversaries - -  we just stare at each other and remember the two times over this past year that we learned we were pregnant while I was experiencing miscarriages. We think about the panic involving opposite Rh factors and the worry involved with whether I would develop destructive antibodies that first time. We think about the horrific bruises on my arms from the blood draws when the phlebotomists blew my veins. We think about how much of those experiences were lived in the bathroom, where our anguish was echoed back to us in an eery cacophony amid the tiled walls. We think about the feeling of emptiness that we both struggle with today and how it is as sharp as it was last year when it happened the first time.

And at the same time, academically at least, we know that we are parents. And my husband knows that he is a father today. We process the spiritual loss like Mary suffered the death of her own Son. We process the physical realities very differently though, but the loss is the same.

There is no life ahead for two babies that most certainly had our dimples. There are no smiles or coos from two babies that definitely had our blue or green eyes. There will be no future for two babies that would have had our pale skin and our wavy hair. And even while we sit here and think of all the things they must have been.... we can't begin to imagine who they were.

How do you grieve someone you can't picture? I've come to the conclusion that the only answer to that question is that my entire faith is based on grieving the loss of a man I never met or saw either.....and so should I be grieving my own children. Maybe more than any other time in my life have I now begun to understand what it is like to have a connection to Mary. Oh how she must have suffered...

So today is Father's Day, the first of many to come for us (and for so many who have walked this path before us). We hope to learn more in the days ahead about how to better process the pain and hurt we feel in such a raw way now. For now though, we are on our knees. And we are mourning what might have been. And yet we are tasked with trying to conceive hope again, if we are to answer God's call in our life to be parents to living children. Anyone who has been in the same position knows what a feat of strength that takes. (That said, I refuse to draw distinction for our lot in life from the reality of so many other couples who struggle with subfertility, infertility, molar pregnancies, ectopic pregnancies, or miscarriage. A void is no less painful because of the circumstances surrounding it and the glory of God and His sacrifice cannot be found in such a distinction - of that I feel certain.)

If nothing else, today has been a reminder to both of us that our strength and hope have only ever come from the death and ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ. And that is no different today than it was before we were parents.

Today, this blog is dedicated to all of the fathers  - here and on the other side. And to everyone with a father's heart (thanks Lauren!). And to all of the children not with us (yet or anymore). God bless you. And God bless my broken-hearted husband.

Waiting for GOD-ot

Psalm 39:7 "And now, LORD, for what do I wait? You are my only hope."

“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.” ― Samuel Beckett, Waiting for Godot


It seems to me that there is a lot of waiting associated with hope.

I can't help but look at our fertility struggles as a time for reflection in what we're really expecting to encounter at the end of this journey. I believe in a God that gives generously, despite how wicked we can be as humans. I also believe in a God that promised me He would come get me from this broken life on Earth if I obeyed him.

In my more whimsical moments, I imagine the entire process of infertility as a Samuel Beckett play. We know we can't leave - because we're waiting for someone important. He said He'd be here. And we can't help but talk on and on ad infinitum like a bunch of blabbering sillies - expecting that it'll do anything but pass the time. It's not going to change the day of His return. In fact, the obsessing might even make it pass more slowly, like trying to pour cold molasses. Oh the wonders of post peak philosophies!

After my last post, which I felt was necessary to paint a picture of how my reality has been formed and written over the years (trust me that was the abbreviated version with a lot less guts and horror than it could have included) - I realized that I want to lay a road map that reminds me of the things I've overcome, the glory I've found in God in the process, and the missteps I've made along the way. I want to learn how to have the courage to face any days ahead that don't seem like they are filled with the promise of His return. And I want to remind myself that tunnel vision and a focus on my own wants above His are where I often get lost.

Roots...

The three generations of women before me on my mother's side were blessed with unquestionable fertility. When they wanted babies, they had them. Similarly, the generations of women on my father's side experienced the same gift from God - and not one of those women had fewer than three children each. I, however, in all my middle-child-have-to-be-different-wonderment, am the 4th generation exception to this on both sides of the family. All of my family's infertility rests on me. It's just as lovely as it sounds, promise! :)

I live a life surrounded by the only thing I ever really looked forward to....children. Literally everywhere. And most of the time, climbing all over me like a jungle gym! When I was younger, people used to see how I interacted with their children and rave about what a wonderful mother I would be 'some day'. That message has definitely changed over the years though. I remember exactly when that message changed too - and where I was standing when it did:

A dear friend of mine and I were at a friend's wedding years ago (both still single at the time). We were mingling and enjoying the hustle and bustle of the cocktail hour at the reception. Everyone was having such a wonderful time. An older woman that we recognized from Church came up to us and remarked at how beautiful the wedding ceremony was. We agreed in short order. It was beautiful. The woman proceeded to pleasantly lambaste us both (my friend particularly) on not being married and not making childbearing important enough in our youth. "Were we even serious about having children?" she interrogated. We were both dumbfounded. It was too much for my friend - she had to excuse herself. And as I stood there, a bit shell shocked at the comments that has just danced out of this woman's mouth, she continued to remind me how arrogant it was of me to think that I could 'have babies forever' and that waiting so long to get married 'was a disgrace in her day-and-age'. I don't remember much after that. I think maybe I politely rubbed her shoulder and clinked glasses with her and thanked her for her concern. How else do you receive a person like that in charity?!

Anyhow, the message was certainly changed now. It was clear that not being married was thumbing my nose up at my future dwindling chance at children. Let me tell you though, getting married didn't help the social commentary. Now the question is 'why haven't you two had kids yet?' and 'what exactly are you waiting for?' and gems like 'you know how to make babies, don't you?'. Yes, yes I do. Thank you for asking. I'm glad we cleared that up.

 So what does all of that have to do with waiting? And more importantly - what does it have to do with hope? Just like Estragon and Vladimir, I do think there is purpose in the waiting. I think that anticipation is a part of the process by which we learn to hope. And I think the conception of hope is never rooted in instant gratification. It's never packaged neatly with a bow and hand delivered. Hope, like faith (and most virtues) is something that I know I have to work for to find and have and keep and grow and share. Our dreams for a family that includes a baby in our arms has to be rooted in the hope that God loves us and has remembered us and that He blesses us with His will. And right now, His will seems to include a little more waiting on our part. We aren't asked to understand it, but we are asked to abide by it.

I remember reading Waiting for Godot in high school and how silly a book I thought it was. Revisiting it as an adult didn't have to involve rereading it. It did involve living it though! So Lord, I wait for You. And if you happen to have an extra baby hanging around before Your next visit, you can send him or her (or both) my way. I promise that I'll take really good care of them.

But I know that if I am blessed enough to stop weeping over the emptiness and inadequacies that infertility brings with it, that it might mean another woman has taken my place in the waiting line. So instead of weeping, I'm going to try to do a lot more laughing. Because Samuel Beckett said so.

I shall leave you with the real answer on where babies come from and hope that laughter finds you as well.... :)