Sunday, November 3, 2013

Plan B

We tried one more time, one final time. The doctor switched my medicine, I still gained weight, I still got sick and I still hoped. With every ounce of my body I hoped.

The cycle took longer than expected, and my body showed once again it doesn't like infertility. My levels jumped off the charts and I felt horrible. We probably should have cancelled but we didn't. The insemination fell on the only weekend we had prayed it wouldn't. Brian was away at a bachelor party in Vegas. I didn't want to tell anyone. We ended up telling everyone. Mostly for logistics, My mom gave me my trigger shot, Brian had to explain his early departure.

Brian drove all night back from a bachelor party in Vegas to be there. On lots oGood thing we needed him. We didn't have anyone to watch Drew, so he came. We didn't ask either. I had been through this before. I needed my boys, needed to be reminded that at one time my body worked. Drew found out where babies come from. Obviously the doctor plants baby seeds in mummy's belly. We prayed in that room they would grow. 

My belly grew.


And grew
And grew

I tried to stay distracted ( I certainly had enough to), I tried to not get stressed (I did). As the days passed I grew more convinced by the minute I was pregnant. Drew would talk to our babies and ask God every night for them to grow. (Certainly God can't tell him, no.)

I was on top of the world! Then it happened, after a hike with my boy, I began to bleed. My body  hurt ...my heart hurt, my soul hurt. After five times I thought the pain would be less, it was more and I was angry.

We went to bible study, the group asked for prayers, Brian and I passed. God doesn't answer our prayers. Our group didn't know we had tried, they didn't know we had failed, and they didn't know I was angry. I had put on my poker face.  

The lady next to me began to speak. She adopted her daughter, she had gone through infertility and she said, "I tell my daughter she was never Gods Plan B. She was always Plan A. I just had to get there."

I got it. I wasn't angry anymore.  My baby is out there, and he/she is God's Plan A. I can't wait to meet him (or her).

Sunday, September 29, 2013

Be Still

Have you ever had God speak to you? I've questioned this throughout my life. Why would God take time out of His day, and the overwhelming world problems to talk to me.  Was it really Him talking or just the result of an overactive imagination? Maybe a need to hear His reassurance when it steamed like I couldn't catch a break? If the past three years have taught me anything it is that if I'm quiet, if I'm still I can hear him. The problem is I'm rarely quiet and I'm never still. 

I heard him in the dream he told me about Josiah. I felt his power and I knew it was not an overactive imagination. And the past few weeks He has been talking again. Ever subtly and quiet....testing the microphone to see if it is on...testingif I am listening. It started with me noticing the same scripture repeatedly, Be Still ..and know that I am God.



Maybe it's trendy. Maybe a coincidence. Maybe not. Maybe God was ready to move. 

Brian and I had started thinking of trying fertility again. We had sworn after the last time, the health scare, that another baby was not in the cards for us. That sometimes, even if we've prayed about it, wanted it, thought we needed it, God would answer "no". And we had tried to be good with that answer, to make peace with it and to love the little miracle we do have. About a month ago, our hearts started stirring. We are confident that our family is just not yet complete. Maybe just maybe God's answer wasn't "no", it was "not yet", "not this way".

 We started thinking of adoption. In the past, Brian had never really been too keen on the idea. He would say, " the next time will work",  recently, though his heart at first started to soften, and then seemingly move towards Exploring the possibility of adoption. Church had made an announcement about foster care and adoption, but we couldn't make the meeting. We weren't sure if we could handle loving a child and having to give him/her back. I can't imagine that pain. I'm not sure I'm strong enough for that kind of pain. 

Brian and I had both began to independently research the adoption process, the cost (astonishing), the wait (too long), and options ( oh the overwhelming options). We would come together to discuss topics and issues. I found some great families on IG that I began to follow, people that had made it through it. That I could see their happy ending. Throughout our research, the scripture kept presenting itself. Sure there were other scriptures. Holding on to God is apparently be step 1 of the adoption process.  But Be Still ... And know that I am God, would jump at me, tinge at me, make me stop and be still. 

 From @theadoptshoppe 


During our research talks, we both decided we should see if fertility would work. Our insurance will pay for one more cycle. I have been gluten free for almost two months and have been feeling better. I called the doctor and she said we can explore it again. I could call her the first day of my next cycle to check my blood levels. 

I told a few of my closest friends, and of them suggested accupuncture. She has suggested it before. In fact I think she brings it up whenever we talk about it, but I finally gave in. I found a doctor online and made an appointment. Wanna guess what sign sits on their receptionist desk? That's right! It's my scripture. ( yep, I'm claiming it now). 

Then I started seeing it more frequently. Seeming to pop off the pages that I read. Dreaming it. 

My cycle started Friday and I missed my appointment (long story) so she is squeezing me in today. I had to leave before sunrise to get here, but as I pulled off the freeway, the song that started on the radio, Be Still. 

 Me as a pin cushion. 


I don't know if this cycle will work, I don't know if God's answer has or will ever change. But I do know this, sitting in an almost empty parking lot at sunrise on a Sunday, God sure does want me to be still

Friday, September 20, 2013

Losing Josiah


Here is part 2 of the baby journey. For a full recap read part 1. 

We began fertility testing which led to an itial diagnosis of stress induced menopause (at age 28). My initial reaction was heck yes, I'm stressed I'm trying to have a baby. (I didn't say heck, it was more like, Are you f'ing kidding me?!?! Who gets menopause at 28! Why is this happening to me?!? Let me just pitch my pity party tent right...here!!)

The doctor assured me that since we had success once before she was confident in medical intervention and I started cycle one of IUI. Short story... Clomid makes me sick (really sick, like throwing up think I'm dying, have the flu sick) Despite this I someone am able to still gain 30 lbs a cycle. 

The eggs were ready, brian provided his sample, the doctor did her magic... We waited two weeks and I was pregnant!!! (Queue the music, break out the baby blankets and start the And They Lived...)

For a few months we did live happily ever after, or ectasticly ever after!

Us finding out....


Brian finding out....

Confirming @ the doctor




Announcing the pregnancy





Hand on my belly for Easter pics.

It was glorious. I loved that little baby inside of me more than life itself. I had struggled, fought for and I thought earned this precious life and I could not wait to meet him or her. 

Then one day after checking my morning email at work I went to use the restroom and like so many other times in the months before I saw red on the toilet paper. My heart fell out of my chest, rolled down the four flights of stairs and down the fwy. I did what every girl would do in that moment. I called my mom. And then I called the doctor. They got me in later that day and as the image came through, we saw our little peanut and the doctor was able to register a heartbeat and watched it flicker. I sobbed tears of relief, tears or happiness, tears of love.

Our next appointment, would be tears but the other kind. Eager to see my growing baby, the doctor's face dropped, she turned the the monitor away and maneuvered the machine this way and that before issuing "I can't find the heartbeat." I couldn't find mine either. 

She said it happens sometimes and for us to come back in a week to see what happens. A
We waited, we prayed and we hoped for that week. And as a sign, my belly grew. A week later on our 12 week appointment, the news wasn't any better. My belly grew but my baby hadn't. 

The doctor assured me I had done nothing wrong, and that miscarriages happen and sometimes our bodies know more than we do. She asked if I'd like to take medicine to have the baby now or if is would like to wait and see what happens in two weeks.

Two weeks went by. We prayed. We had friends pray, strangers pray and had healing hands laid on us in a moment that can only be described as divine. And my belly grew more. But we went back and there had been only growth to the uterine sac, and the uterus and our baby was still measuring small and heartbeat was erratic. When she asked again about a DNC, I asked if my baby had any hope. She said you're body is holding on but you'd need a miracle. We take one of those. She gave us another deadline and this time, Brian and I decided we couldn't keep waiting. If God was going to give us this baby we needed him to show us.

That night I had a dream, just me and God (because we are cool like that) and I was begging for my baby's life. The voice responded "His name is Josiah." I responded "Jo what? I don't like that." His voice came back more clear, "if you want this baby, his name is Josiah." I woke up.

I told Brian about my odd dream and about the name. He responded , "it means Jesus saves". We were in awe. I hadn't recalled hearing the name before but we knew that my lil guy in my belly was our Josiah. I prayed with every ounce of my being for God to let me meet my son, to hold him and to look in his eyes. 

Confident at our next appointment, we were devastated when the news wasn't any better. Josiah hadn't grown and my body was showing signs of early miscarriage. The doctor offered us some drugs that would help us pass the baby. She assured us, we wouldn't see any resemblences of a baby and I wouldn't be forced to flush my baby down the toilet (my biggest fear).

The night before we delivered, I wrestled with God. I pleaded with, I bargained with him, I yelled and cursed and then I repented. My fear and grief eased with the morning light. There had been no miracle for us. God had answered me even if it wasn't the answer I had wanted. His silence was overwhelming. I had felt abandoned and angry and sad I wouldn't see my baby's face. Meet the boy I loved so much. 

After taking medicine, i began bleeding heavyily for most of the day, I grieved knowing I was losing my baby. Then the labor pains came, they were as painful as Remembered. The kind of pain that takes over your whole body and all you can do is release low archaic moan sounds. 

My mom had come to check on me and seeing me in the fetal position, she wrapped her body around mine. Cradling my defeated, broken body. She prayed, she talked to me, she absorbed my pain. And then I said, "I've gotta push."

I moved to the bathroom, feeling the pressure of what seemed like the world coming through me. I had so bodily wanted to meet my boy. To look in his face. To tell him that I loved him and was proud of him for fighting. To tell him that his life had meaning. That he would forever be a part of our family.

I pulled my boy out just short of midnight. Although, the doctor said we wouldn't see anything. God granted us that wish. I looked in my baby's eyes. I saw his face. I told him mommy loved him. 

I handed him to his daddy and said. "I just delivered a baby on a toilet." The humor of the moment cut just merely slightly through the grief.

We buried our boy in our inlaws garden, just underneath the window of Brian's childhood bedroom. Our friend gave us a butterfly garden and the butterflies hatched shortly after Josiah's due date. We talk about hi often, Drew tells us weekly he misses Josias (that's what he calls him.) and asks when are baby is coming back from Jesus.

My heart still breaks and I look ever forward to the day I can see him again.