Good Things Happen To Other People

On this Feast of the Assumption, Catholics recognize the miraculous moment when Mary was ascended into Heaven, bodily. It's hard to imagine a human body ascending into Heaven, isn't it? I find myself wondering whether we have any real sense of Mary's journey through life - or the details surrounding her Assumption - from our vantage point in the year 2015. Are we so far removed that we can't relate anymore? 

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Around every corner, there is another birth announcement. It seems birth is "in season" lately. I guess it makes sense though... as Christmas was 9 months ago. Almost all of the people who I began this walk through infertility with now have children in their arms - or they eagerly await impending births (biologically or through the gift of adoption) of children still in utero. And really, there seems hardly any greater joy than to be able to congratulate someone on the birth of a child after they have suffered the pains of infertility. We all jump at the chance to do it - myself included. What could be better? I mean, I have one idea... ;)

Good things happen to other people, so you can hardly begrudge someone at realizing their life's dream, just because your own dreams were the same and remain unfulfilled. It's one of the more complicated sets of emotions that get navigated when a couple experiences infertility: joy at the blessing you crave for yourself, bestowed on someone you care about.

For some, birth announcements (regardless of whose) become painful - stinging at the mere mention of children. And yet for others, the announcement of a birth itself isn't painful... but it is a reminder of their own infertility. And it's a reminder of the dull ache and sadness at childlessness that is still lived in their own life. Neither feeling is wrong. And feeling either way, in my opinion, is more a product of instinct than anything else. You don't aim to be upset and overjoyed at something simultaneously. It just happens that way.

Marian feast days have a way of stinging when you have experienced infertility though, don't they? Here we are, celebrating something beautiful and unbelievable that happened to a mother. Let's be honest - at it's core, that's what a Marian feast day is: celebrating a mother. Albeit an amazing mother... but there is no point in rationalizing the details and qualifying specialties with those who are in the throes of infertility. For some reading here - this is what the meme would look like, if they were honest about their feelings on a day like today:

You might be saying "yeah, but it's different". OK, great. It's different. But it's still a celebration of a mother. And for those who get lost in the pain of that - I write this post. My goal in writing here isn't always to have the neat or poetic answers. It isn't to tell beautiful stories that always end exactly the way we want. And it isn't even my goal to spin all the details into some neat, tidy, little package that in hindsight makes it all seem worth it. God isn't our magician. 

Sometimes life is hard. Infertility is always hard. And Marian feast days are tough when you navigate infertility. I'm validating that here. You aren't a bad person for feeling sad when good things happen to other people. You're human.

But today is a reminder that sometimes unbelievable things happen to humans. Sometimes the impossible happens - like getting carted up to Heaven with your skin on, and your soul still jiggling around on the inside. It's not a concession to your current pain. But it is a reminder that there is purpose in celebrating things that are painful. And that God does have a plan - and sometimes it involves the unimaginable. 

Infertility isn't something you were ever in control of to begin with, regardless of your 27-pills-a-day-regimen and your carefully plotted out diet. But if you are suffering on Marian feast days, struggling to find a relationship with the Blessed Mother, hurting from your own experiences with your own mother, confused at how to reconcile your faith with your pain, or otherwise feeling like you are flailing with this whole infertile-and-Christian thing... I have words of encouragement for you:

I am praying for you: The person who is reading this and crying. The person who is reading this while lurking silently online, never leaving a comment. The person who reads this and feels guilty, sad, alone, and forgotten. And I'm asking God to make His Plan a little clearer in your life so that you can see how hope is conceived in all things... even the things that seem difficult.

If you would like for me to pray for a specific intention, I am in the middle of a 54 day novena - praying only for others' intentions. I would love to add what's weighing on your heart to my prayer list. Just send me a message on the contact form above or comment below.

Good things are going to continue to happen to other people. And I hope you realize that to someone else, you are the other person. And they'd have given anything for the blessing they've watched you receive. Meanwhile, you'll continue to look at others' blessings the same way. This is human nature in our fallen world, isn't it? We aren't in a competition with each other, nor are our pains in vain. Nor am I ever going to say "get over it" to you.

If I'm even remotely right that it's instinct that creates these reactions though - then that means we have a reliable source of ignition to let us put our suffering to work, doesn't it? It's the only way out of the self-centered-prison that infertility wants to build around us and reduce our lives into and I'm convinced prayer is the most powerful weapon. Let's burn the pain of our infertility and use the strength of the inferno to power good things to happen to other people. It doesn't diminish the deepest longing in our heart for children. It won't relieve our childlessness. But I'm pretty sure if there is anything that could impress Jesus and answer His call in our life and fulfill His plan for us - it would start a little something like humbly putting your most painful pains to work selflessly for others. And that you could pull yourself out of the emotional and spiritual (and sometimes physical!) paralysis of infertility would be a testament to how we may be broken, but that it will not dictate what we are capable of as Christians...

God be with everyone reading here on this Feast of the Assumption, and the good things can you make happen for other people. Think about it.

4 Months in Life (and 7QT#2)

1. Blogiversary

Well, it's been four months since I decided to make writing a part of this journey. Looking back on my time here, I see a lot that is different and a lot that is the same. It's not as much a celebration as it is a marking of time. This is my 2nd attempt at 7 Quick Takes Friday,  so let's take a look at how things are panning out so far!

2. Stats

While they aren't the metric that motivates whether I write or not, blog stats are one of the only metrics of this writing adventure that I can look at to remind me that I have something to say that is worth reading, that I'm not alone, and that it is easier to trek this path with my readers than it was without them. I know I'm a tiny fish in a ginormous sea, but you all didn't make me feel that way this past four months. You really made me feel like my words and thoughts and feelings and experiences mattered. You helped form a community around me. And you encouraged me on the posts I was most hesitant in publishing. 50 posts and 200 comments later, here we are, interwebs.

3. Posts You Love

I recently added a "popular posts" widget to the top right of the blog. I've been surprised to see what is read the most, what is commented on the most, and how quickly things are shared through social media. You liked the only creative writing post I've ever made (and really, it's the only creative writing I've done in a long time, even if it wasn't terribly inventive).

You liked prayer requests and novena ideas. You love lists of things. And you like pretty pictures. Ok, ok, who doesn't?? :)

Strangely enough, I hear from people that you love my awful artwork. Those posts are barely viewed in comparison though, so I have no idea what to make of that. Just know that if you are seeing some illustrated cycle humor in the future, it was cathartic for me to draw it, and just humor me.

Pun intended. :)

4. Changes

I've been face-first in my IF journey like a kid eating a birthday cake. Aggressive. On top of it. And determined to make my way to the other side of it. That's going to change in the months ahead. Maybe this is what the death of "early IF" looks like for me. I told someone earlier that the past week feels like I'm moving from early IF to middle IF. Yes, I imagined hobbits and a pretty shire when I said it. A crackling fire in a tiny little hobbit house....I digress. I suppose if I have to go through this at all, I should be happy to make my way out of the gut wrenching beginning stage of it. And I am.

I do feel like I can breathe a bit more. I don't feel like it's consuming my every moment. Middle IF (yes, I'm saying it out loud as "middelif", like a lazy version of middle Earth) feels more like peace interrupted by sneak attacks of anguish so far. And why would that possibly be a good thing? Because it's not constant, gut wrenching anguish. That's a good thing. I'm grateful for it.

Four months ago, I couldn't imagine anything but sticking to drugs and charting and reading and researching everything under the sun to try and further us in our TTC efforts. Yet today, I sit here with thoughts of stopping meds and giving up on that kind of effort. What we're doing isn't working. It's not getting us a baby. It's not making me healthier. It's not making me happier. And it's not nurturing my marriage. It's just constant, exhausting, useless, hormonal anguish. And I need a break. It doesn't mean I want a baby any less. I still want that intensely. But if it's going to ever happen in any way, I need a break now.

During that break, I'm going to be focusing on other things. Focusing on things outward more than inward. Or at least I'm going to try! No amount of constant super duper hyper focus on yourself is going to allow your soul to serve God. At least, I haven't found a way to do it yet on this IF journey, despite months and months and months of awesome practice. :P

5. Cycles, Charts, and Hormones

Have you ever heard of the song that doesn't end? (Don't answer that!) Ugh. I'm still in the cycle I began in August. My body is basically giving me the Jersey State Bird over here, telling me how much it hates the clomid I took almost 60 days ago. I don't know what else it could be at this point. I have no idea what is going on. I'm still charting over here, even though that seems like a joke to do it.

6. A Surprise

I'm working on a fun surprise and hope to be able to unveil it soon. It's going to take a good bit of time to manage and coordinate this one, but when (and if!!) I'm able to, I think my readers are going to love this. Keep tuned in and I promise I'll share as soon as I can. I'll give you a hint: it involves a duck.

If I'm able to make it happen, there's going to be an entire blog series on this. So please keep this in your prayers as a special intention.

I'll be calling this "Duck Watch" in future posts, when I refer to it. If it's something I'm able to breathe life into from this dream it currently is... there will even be a Duck Countdown!!

This is something I've been noodling on for a couple of weeks, in an attempt to keep myself focused on a fun, positive, meaningful project. It's grown from a daydream to a real possibility just this past week, so I need prayers for things to keep going well.

7. Thanks y'all.

Beyond Ugly

Yesterday I had a complete meltdown. Complete with big, fat, ugly tears and a temper tantrum lived out on the internet in a secret facebook group...typed furiously with wet, salty fingers. It came with that wind-sucking feeling in your lungs and that sense that nothing would ever be ok...no matter how long or how hard I try...

I lost my flipping mind yesterday for what seemed like a very specific and acute reason. I've been waiting for my doctor to weigh in on my salivary adrenal cortisol results for over three weeks.

Anyway, that's what prompted my big, fat, ugly meltdown yesterday. Or so I thought.

A few hours into my own personal melodramatic, tear-stained, wind-sucking misery that came out of nowhere, I magically got my period. Happy CD1! Love, My Body. So that made me look at things in a different light. First, it's clear that things are moving in the wrong direction. The kind of uncontrollable panic and flip-outs that used to be a big (and regular) part of PMDD and PMS haven't been on the scene for a while now. I guess that run is over? As I sit here with hypothyroidism and impaired adrenal functioning (read: I'm low in the morning, lower at noon, lower in the evening, and high at night right before bed)...... I now know they are a big part of what causes these symptoms. There have been months where we got my hormones to sub-optimal (a big improvement over my usual) and my thyroid was fine and I didn't lose my mind. Conversely, there have been months where my hormones were atrocious and my thyroid was fine and I really struggled. I get that it's a big loop and it runs downhill when things are bad in one area.

I'm downhill.

Thankfully, just the knowledge that CD1 was the scape goat for my meltdown helped. It shouldn't, of course, but it did. I'm tired of my monthly cycle feeling like being strapped into solitary confinement. And yet, knowing that hormones were to blame made it easier to process. Maybe I'm not actually losing my mind...maybe it's just my hormones. Again. Wait, when is it NOT my hormones??

I think I might have welcomed the logic stopping there. You know, before I got a giant, itchy rash all over. Sigh. Little else makes me panic as much as a giant, itchy rash. My brain instantaneously moves into complete freak-out mode when I get unexplained rashes. Because fevers are next (which it was). And hospitals are next (which it thankfully wasn't). And abscesses are next (which it thankfully wasn't). And lots of bad medical care is next (which it thankfully wasn't).


My brain knows that bicycle ride better than it knows how to find its way home. How is it possible that I have spent so much time, so much effort, so much money, so much time in prayer, and assigned so much hope and faith to the conquering of this problem and I still sit here, festering in it? How is it possible that my best effort isn't even close to good enough to conquer this? Have you ever felt the anguish of something like that? Because that's what this IF or SF or whatever you want to call this sad journey of mine felt like yesterday.

So in my meltdown, there were a few angels that jumped in front of the panic bus and stopped it like Superman crumpling the asphalt behind his magnificently rooted feet. People online instantly rallied in prayer. One person looked up naturopaths. One person sat with me in private messaging and talked me through the tears and suffered with me. I was reminded of the double novena I had just signed on to do. I prayed my two novena prayers for the day. And I sat there in awe afterward as I felt filled with a little bit of peace from praying with such a broken heart. The words didn't wash over me - they washed through me. Like a waterfall.

 'O Sacred Heart of Jesus, for whom it is impossible not to have compassion on the afflicted, have pity on us miserable sinners and grant us the grace which we ask of you, through the Sorrowful and Immaculate Heart of Mary, your tender Mother and ours.'

'We trust to your gentle care and intercession, those whom we love and who are sick or lonely or hurting. Help all of us, Holy Mother, to bear our burdens in this life until we may share eternal life and peace with God forever.'

For now at least, I need to accept that I am the sick, lonely, hurting sinner that is in need of prayers. And as much as I want to not be...and as much as this uncomfortable exercise of living my deepest hurts out loud is grueling...I know that I am slowly finding healing from making the effort a priority.

I suffered in silence for a long time. It didn't help anything. So I sit here this morning feeling hopeful. Hopeful because God is allowing me to experience healing to my pain-riddled and weary heart through prayers. Hopeful because my pain, lived out in the the ugliest way I can imagine - publicly - is being met with love and charity and grace and hugs from people who know what it's like to be breathlessly infertile. Hopeful because I am definitely going to hire a naturopath to give these hormones and this thyroid and these adrenals another look. Hopeful because I know Christ lives in this hurt with me. And hopeful because I'm not willing to waste any time lost in God-less agony. I spent years stuck there and if it's anything I've learned from those years of illness and pain - it's that God is easier to find in those moments than at any other times in my life. So I have to remember to look for Him and say hello and weep at His feet. I'm pretty sure he's waiting for me to do that anyway.