The Luckiest No Matter What!

Okay, I had to write this post to vent out what happened to me today. So I'm at a Sparrow lab getting my blood drawn.  Ann Arbor is monitoring my HCG Beta levels as I "come down" from my miscarriage.  They are looking for my number to be less than five because then I will be officially and completely "not pregnant."  I have to get it drawn every week.  I'm sure you can imagine how enjoyable this has been for me.  After waiting, I'm in the room about to get my blood drawn and another Sparrow employee and a younger women walk into the room as well.  I hear the Sparrow employee ask her, "okay, so we're checking your progesterone and HCG BETA then?"  REALLY?! I have a newly pregnant person in the room WITH me?!  This has got to be some kind of sick joke. The young women answers that she has "no idea" but just knows whatever she's getting checked she needs to get checked in another 48 hours.   I am already steaming beca

This time of year will always be difficult for me... The rest of the world is celebrating spring: everything is budding, sprouting, and growing.  This time of year is a time for see and acknowledge new life because it is everywhere!  While everyone else is doing that, I am thinking about death, loss, and what might have been.  These two perspectives could not be more starkly different.  For me, two of my greatest losses are recognized at this time of year.  Today, April 21st, is my brother Eric's birthday.  He would've been 26 years old. At the end of this month (thankfully with no actual date, which does make it easier) my first child, we nicknamed him/her "Champ" during the short time I was pregnant, would've been born this year.   Both of these people were taken from me within two days of each other: tragically, suddenly, and seemingly very unfairly. I find myself thinking about what today would've been like this year if neither of those things

I can say with certainty and experience that fertility struggles are no fun. Our family is not where we thought it would be at this time in our life.  I would love to have a child turning one with plans and dreams for a second baby.  I find myself asking many questions about what our future will look like and wondering if we could've done anything differently.  As I reflect on some of the lowest moments over these last 22 months of fertility struggles, I ask sometimes how Josh and I are still standing so firm in our love and commitment?  How do we still have faith?  hope?  How do we still laugh?  have fun? I want to offer some tips at how we've been able to cope with all the things that come with an infertility struggle: the millions of doctors appointments that end up running your whole life even when you try your hardest for that not to happen, the injections, the bad news, the set backs, the loss of hope, the crushing of dreams, and for us even, the loss of two babies.

As we deal with our second miscarriage in less than a year, I found a wonderful poem that helped as we mourn... I Am An Angel Don't let them say I never lived, Though something stopped my heart, I felt the tenderness you gave, I loved you from the start. Although my body you can't hold, It doesn't mean I'm gone, This world was worthy, not, of me, God chose that I move on. I know the pain that drowns your soul, What you are forced to face, You have my word, I'll fill your arms, Someday we will embrace. You'll hear that it was "meant to be God doesn't make mistakes", But that won't soften your loss, Or make your heart not ache.   I'm watching over all you do, Another child you'll bear, Believe me when I say to you, That I am always there.   There will come a time, I promise you, When you will hold my hand, Stroke my face and kiss my lips, And then you'll understand.   Although I never breathed your air, Or gazed into your eyes

I hope your spring break plans don't look like mine... Josh and I found out officially on Friday that the baby I've been carrying no longer has a heartbeat.  Although I should be about ten weeks pregnant by now, our baby never showed growth past about six weeks.  While we never gave up the very small shred of hope that things would miraculously change, this news is bittersweet.  Both of us prayed that the next step would be clear the next time we went to the doctor.  If things were going to get better, we wanted them to get better, but if things were not, we wanted to be able to deal with this miscarriage while I was not at school.  I have to be honest in saying that I also didn't want this to be drawn out anymore than it was as that is the piece I am struggling the most with.  If this baby was never going to be, why put us through this?  Why get the very small amount of people in my life who knew I was pregnant hopeful and excited that something might FINALLY work fo

So after a lot of gentle, and not so gentle shoving to tell my story, I surrender! Writing and sharing about Josh and my struggle to have a baby and all that goes with it has been a strong force for while now.  The feeling to write and share has woken me up in the middle of the night, has popped in my head throughout the day, and I've gotten a lot of feedback from my post on facebook about sharing more.  I truly believe God has been leading me in that direction.  Today I got up way too early in the morning with the feeling again so I decided to move forward.  I decided on blogspot and then it came to deciding on a name.  My students would be able to tell you that this would normally be my favorite part of the writing process.  I LOVE coming up with titles and stupid silly names for things.  When my students are writing and they have a block for a title, they run directly over to me knowing that them needing help on a title will 'make my day'.  I have names for so many