on mother's day.

i remember it so clearly, so vividly, as if it were yesterday.  it's amazing how some days, and their emotions, just stick with you forever.  it was saturday night, the day before mother's day, last year.  we got a knock on my parent's door and it was bff kayla with a large bouquet of flowers.  she said, "these are for you, because mother's day just sucks when you're trying to get pregnant."  she knew.

church the next day wasn't terrible.  my dad, being the bishop, stood up at the end of the meeting and bore the sweetest testimony.  he said, "for many of you today isn't a day of celebration.  struggles of losing a child, not having children, death of a mother, poor relationships, there are many reasons that people are hurting on mother's day.  but don't forget that the atonement of Jesus Christ can heal all of our hurt, and replace it with hope and joy."  i bawled.  he said it for me, really, though everyone else got to listen in.  i was so grateful for the reminder.

this year was my "first official" mother's day.  at least that's what everyone kept telling me.  but i wasn't sure how i felt about that.  yes, i'm having a miracle baby and i'm so thrilled.  i'll be a "mom" this year.  but that longing for motherhood was the same last year as it was today.  i found ways to "mother", especially through my jobs.  i found ways to nurture, create, give hope and life, although it wasn't in baby form.  this year opened my eyes that last year (and all years) i truly was a mother, although i couldn't see it at the time.  all women have that gift and we must embrace it in our lives in whatever form it comes.

favorite talks on not necessarily being a "mother":

"are we not all mothers?" by sheri dew

"what shall we do?" by neill marriott

on miracles and the feels. [infertility awareness week.]

[here.]

it's infertility awareness week.  i want to share a little more of my story.

[as i've been pregnant i've felt like i've been in this limbo.  i can't be too excited because i know so many struggling, but yet, i've also seen miracles that are so joyous.]

i was looking back in my journal from last summer.  the cover of my journal says, "what to focus on - happy."  i intentionally bought it with infertility on my mind, knowing that somehow i'd have to find happiness in my journey.

i want to share with you some of my deepest feelings that i wrote while in the midst of that trial, that you too might know a little bit more how it feels.  the highs and the lows.

"over the past two days i've had two people reach out to me and their words brought me to tears.  it's been a perfect reminder that i am not forgotten and Heavenly Father is so aware of me and my situation with infertility.  a reminder that there are many more prayers offered in our behalf than just my pleadings.  our team is many."

"sometimes infertility just hurts."

"derek and i have reflected on the real blessing of being able to have so much time to really get to know each other - to learn to love and understand and communicate.  it truly is a gift."

"we went to the fertility doctor today.  it went well and most everything looked 'normal.'  that means we have unexplained infertility.  and i just feel so bummed out about it all tonight.  it just feels so very daunting and overwhelming."

"sometimes i feel very alone in this trial - although many reach out.  it's hard for me to think that they really know how i feel.  sometimes even Jesus Christ, who knows all our suffering.  my thoughts wonder, 'but He isn't a woman, can He really know how i feel?'"

"i know it will all work out... sometimes i just wish i know the when and how and why..."

"derek and i went to the doctor this morning for my pregnancy blood draw after our latest fertility treatment.  i went home and waiting for 'the' phone call.  the test came back negative.  i sat and cried for half an hour straight.  i kept praying, 'Heavenly Father, it hurts.  everything hurts.'"

"i know we're moving in the right direction.  i hope and pray and plead.  but so often my arms feel empty and my heart heavy.  waiting is SO hard."

"real honest.  i'm trying really, really hard to find joy in this leg of the journey... but all i think is, 'rocks!  thorns!  glass!  not cool robert frost.' [kid president]  ...inside just hurts."

as i look back the feelings are so real, so fresh and so raw.  everything about it just hurts.  and yet, i wouldn't trade what i've learned for anything.

to the many who struggle with infertility, i reach out with love, and empathy, and compassion.  know that you are not alone in this journey and that your team is many.

the hilarity of fertility appointments.

[viewer discretion advised. tmi. and stuff.]

fertility appointments aren't always funny. in reality they are scary and stressful and exciting and awkward.  pretty much every emotion. here are my "tmi" stories that keep me laughing through the seriousness of it all. if you keep reading, you've been warned.

story 1.
the nurses at the office are just the best. let's just throw that out there.  but even if they are the best, it doesn't mean you love having full length conversations without pants on. after a good five minutes she says, "sis, i guess you can put your pants on and meet me in the hall." yeah, thanks.

story 2.
with fertility treatments, comes medicine and giving yourself shots. [insert: scary!] your shot comes in the mail and then you have to give it to yourself at the time the doctor tells you. i got home from work and was supposed to give myself the shot an hour later.  the problem: no package.  i called the doctor, i called fedex. basically, i was freaking out.  finally, fifteen minutes before my scheduled shot time the doorbell rings and the packages arrived. i ripped it apart, got it all ready and jabbed myself.  so much adrenaline i couldn't even think about how scared i was.  i work really well under pressure.

story 3.
after having a treatment done they have you lay on the table for about fifteen minutes, and they invert the table a little... anti-gravity.  as i'm laying there, bum in the air, good old jon mayer comes on over the radio. "gravity, stay the hell away from me."  probably the best soundtrack of my life moment ever.

story 4.
getting your blood drawn.  it's really just dementors that come to take away your soul.  and it's fine if you act like a 5 year old and ask for a juice box every time.

...and the best part is being able to tell our kids one day that we weren't even in the same room when they were conceived.  [just keeping ourselves laughing, people.]

[original infertility post here.]

the face of infertility.

disclaimer:  this isn't a "feel bad for me" post.  or even a "this is really why we don't have kids, so stop asking."  this is for my other sisters, friends who know just how much it hurts, who have the pain deep inside, and to know that you aren't alone.  

the face of infertility.

where do you even start on a topic so tender, so close to home, so very real?  how do i tell you what it feels like without offending the majority of you who think, "did i ever say something like that to her?"  or "who does she think she is..."  how do you answer when someone asks you when you're having kids without telling them the truth and probably crying?  how do i tell you, without getting too personal?

i've avoided this post for months, although it's always in the back of my mind.  always on my mind. but lately i just keep thinking, i never want to forget.  and if i can let one other person know that she's not alone, i'll write it again and again.

what it feels like:
heartbreak, hope, sadness, bitterness, wondering, relief, anxiety, judged, loneliness, jealousy, and lots and lot of tears.

i could tell you stories about the times i've felt heartbroken.  the times i felt judged.  the times i've cried in my room feeling so very alone.  you try to move on and get past it, but it's as though each of these emotions, these situations are little tiny pin pricks, that are incredibly slow to heal.  more often than not, they get pricked again and the healing process starts over.  

it's as though you always have your guard up, the "just-in-case" moments.  it's being hypersensitive to anyone talking about anything pregnancy or baby related.  particularly around "that" time, which means no for another month. it's the 'be strong. don't cry until you're alone' situations.  and sometimes, it's trying to say something nice even when you want to answer their question with a really snarky answer.

but it's also the moments of quiet reassurance.  the friends who reach out, when they really don't know what to say.  it's the tender mercies, that are so small, but mean the most.  it's staying hopeful and happy.  and sometimes it's just crying to feel better.

on disappointment and grief...

last week was a hard monday morning.  monday mornings are hard in general, but this one was particularly difficult.  upon arriving at school they did an all-call for faculty and staff.  it's never good news when everyone is requested to meet in the library before school.  we expected bad news, but not that bad.  last monday, we lost a dear mentor, teacher and friend.  our vice principal, dennis bacon, passed away.

this week was just a rough one.  every day was filled with another disappointment.  not necessarily my own, but a disappointment nonetheless.  death, struggles with infertility, family problems, illnesses, heartbreak.  for some reason this week it was so apparent.

and yet, the happiness was so apparent too.  the peace, the hope, the faith, the love.  maybe that's just the way this road of life goes.

"be still, my soul:  the hour is hastening on
when we shall be forever with the Lord,
when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
all safe and blessed we shall meet at last."
[hymn 124]