This video was just shared with me by another blogger.
After one of the roughest weeks of my life, I truly needed this.
My niece was born on Valentine's Day night. She was 4 weeks early - is doing fabulously. I've been visiting every morning between jobs. It's been wonderful and extremely difficult at the exact same time. DH and I started an Our Lady of Guadalupe Novena the night my SIL's water broke... we both took the news much, much harder than we had expected (ummmm... we had 8 months to prepare for this, what-the-heck?) and then felt guilty as well, for feeling horrible.
I got yelled at later that week, literally yelled at, and was made to question some major choices I've made about my life and career.
It's just been... really, really rough.
But. Then there's this. And it all seems to fall into place.
I know you'll all enjoy it as much as I did.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CdrRSCL-EL4
Friday, February 17, 2012
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Lenten IF Prayer Buddies!!
Time really snuck up on me!
It is time to sign up for the 3rd Annual Lenten Season Prayer Buddies!!
This season, I will be organizing the IF Prayer Buddies for all bloggers who identify as Infertile/childless/waiting to adopt/fill_in_the-blank.
As in the past, you will be assigned a Prayer Buddy to pray for starting Ash Wednesday February 22nd through Easter Sunday April 8th. During Lent, you will be offering prayers, novenas, rosaries, lighting candles, offering up suffering, etc. for your secret Prayer Buddy and whatever intentions they specified. Those interested in participating, please email me at:
thiscrossiembrace@gmail.com
What I'll need from you is:
Your first name or first initial
Your blog address
Your intentions
Optional:
Your full name
Your address
(Address can be provided if your Prayer Buddy plans to send you a small gift at Easter)
DEADLINE FOR SIGN-UPS IS:
Sunday, Feb 19th
Mrs. Henderson has graciously offered her expertise (let's face it, PBs was just a bunch of names scribbled on paper until she came along!) in organizing a more General Prayer Buddy match-up (mommies/expectants/singles/fill-in-the-blank).
Please visit her blog for more information on the General PB Sign-Ups:
http://thehendersonstory.blogspot.com/
It is time to sign up for the 3rd Annual Lenten Season Prayer Buddies!!
This season, I will be organizing the IF Prayer Buddies for all bloggers who identify as Infertile/childless/waiting to adopt/fill_in_the-blank.
As in the past, you will be assigned a Prayer Buddy to pray for starting Ash Wednesday February 22nd through Easter Sunday April 8th. During Lent, you will be offering prayers, novenas, rosaries, lighting candles, offering up suffering, etc. for your secret Prayer Buddy and whatever intentions they specified. Those interested in participating, please email me at:
thiscrossiembrace@gmail.com
What I'll need from you is:
Your first name or first initial
Your blog address
Your intentions
Optional:
Your full name
Your address
(Address can be provided if your Prayer Buddy plans to send you a small gift at Easter)
DEADLINE FOR SIGN-UPS IS:
Sunday, Feb 19th
Mrs. Henderson has graciously offered her expertise (let's face it, PBs was just a bunch of names scribbled on paper until she came along!) in organizing a more General Prayer Buddy match-up (mommies/expectants/singles/fill-in-the-blank).
Please visit her blog for more information on the General PB Sign-Ups:
http://thehendersonstory.blogspot.com/
Thursday, February 9, 2012
Like a Child in the Womb
Long time no post. Or more appropriately, long time no time to post.
There are tons of updates, nothing earth-shattering, but stuff nonetheless. But since I post so rarely these days, it would seem, I want to devote this post to one of the blog posts I've had in my head for a couple weeks now. (Do other people do this? I am constantly coming up with ideas for blog posts and trying to remember them for later... I need a smartphone in my brain.)
I was talking to a good friend and fellow boocher* (hehe, such a fun word!) a while ago and the idea arose that infertility's sharpest pain is self-defined. Let me elaborate. For Mrs. A, infertility may hurt daily because she grieves the loss of bringing her husband's children into the world. For Mrs. B, infertility may pierce the heart as she is constantly reminded of the children she lacks, while watching all of the growing families around her. For Mrs. C, the most painful blow might be the fact that no matter how hard she tries, her body will not function as it should, and she cannot achieve her long-desired goal.
I think a certain amount of each of these aspects of infertility affects all women. And perhaps the one that most affects me is one that similarly affects many other Christian women.
For Mrs. TCIE, the most excruciating part of the cross of infertility is the idea that even in heaven, I may not be a mother.
It is an idea that I have discussed with my therapist, friends, and my husband. And despite the great advice and support I've received (reminders that there is no suffering in heaven, that heaven is not deduced to single families, that our desires to be in heaven are not, or should not be, self-seeking)... my human mind constantly goes back to this thought. And it haunts me.
As you've noticed, I have not been around the blogs for quite a while. I would post regularly, almost daily, when infertility was prominent in my life. The support I find here is invaluable, and has helped me over many a hump.
But now that I am not actively trying to conceive (and likewise not actively pursuing adoption or foster care)... I find myself in new territory. There is a separation that I've noticed now, while working with women and couples suffering from infertility. My heart still goes out to them, and I am still able to counsel them from a place of empathy... but... (and this may sound weird, just bear with me)... it's almost like an out-of-body experience. I see myself talking to these women, and hear my words assuring them and instilling hope... all the while feeling peaceful and knowing that even if they never have children, they will be ok. I know I cannot say this to many, if not all, of them, because if someone had told me these words while I was still gung-ho trying-to-conceive, I would have wanted to slap them. It sounds, to those not ready to hear it, like a loss of hope. When really - it's a true gain of hope and peace.
But still, that nagging thought creeps into my heart from time to time. I know it's not from God. I try to pray it away. But it lingers. And it is stirred up particularly when I am hormonal.
Think about women who have miscarried. What is the one source of comfort we can give them, hoping to bring them peace and resolve? "One day, you will be reunited in heaven." Of course we believe that, it's not just something we say.
But where does that leave the women who have never conceived? And those who have never adopted?
And then it dawned on me. Our lives here on earth are so fleeting. We cannot even try to comprehend how heaven "works" because it is beyond the furthest reaches of our imagination.
Much like a child in the womb not understanding anything of the outside world, we have such minimal experience and surroundings on which to base our perception of what heaven must be like.
When I compare myself to that child in the womb, suddenly that nagging feeling begins to subside.
Here I am, dwelling on what I cannot have, what I do not have, and what I want. When, in the blink of an eye, none of it will matter at all. I imagine a child in the womb, trying desperately to reach out and grab her umbilical cord - trying, and failing, over and over again. It's all she wants to do before her time in the womb is through.
Once she is born, will her failures in the womb still bother her? Will her desires as she grows outside the womb still be the same?
Now of course the analogy here is not cut and dry. A grown adult woman desiring children, an inherent good, is not exactly the same as a baby desiring to play with its umbilical cord. But at the heart of the matter is the Truth: we do not know all, we do not understand all. What may be of great importance to us here and now, and becoming a source of great daily suffering, will not be experienced the same way when we reach heaven. There will be no labels of "childless" or "infertile" in heaven. Our fears will be washed away.
To this Truth I cling, especially in those moments when infertility truly stings.
*boocher: One who brews their own kombucha ;) And might I add, I have quite the knack for it, and I LOVE it! Never been more regular in my life. You're welcome for sharing.
There are tons of updates, nothing earth-shattering, but stuff nonetheless. But since I post so rarely these days, it would seem, I want to devote this post to one of the blog posts I've had in my head for a couple weeks now. (Do other people do this? I am constantly coming up with ideas for blog posts and trying to remember them for later... I need a smartphone in my brain.)
I was talking to a good friend and fellow boocher* (hehe, such a fun word!) a while ago and the idea arose that infertility's sharpest pain is self-defined. Let me elaborate. For Mrs. A, infertility may hurt daily because she grieves the loss of bringing her husband's children into the world. For Mrs. B, infertility may pierce the heart as she is constantly reminded of the children she lacks, while watching all of the growing families around her. For Mrs. C, the most painful blow might be the fact that no matter how hard she tries, her body will not function as it should, and she cannot achieve her long-desired goal.
I think a certain amount of each of these aspects of infertility affects all women. And perhaps the one that most affects me is one that similarly affects many other Christian women.
For Mrs. TCIE, the most excruciating part of the cross of infertility is the idea that even in heaven, I may not be a mother.
It is an idea that I have discussed with my therapist, friends, and my husband. And despite the great advice and support I've received (reminders that there is no suffering in heaven, that heaven is not deduced to single families, that our desires to be in heaven are not, or should not be, self-seeking)... my human mind constantly goes back to this thought. And it haunts me.
As you've noticed, I have not been around the blogs for quite a while. I would post regularly, almost daily, when infertility was prominent in my life. The support I find here is invaluable, and has helped me over many a hump.
But now that I am not actively trying to conceive (and likewise not actively pursuing adoption or foster care)... I find myself in new territory. There is a separation that I've noticed now, while working with women and couples suffering from infertility. My heart still goes out to them, and I am still able to counsel them from a place of empathy... but... (and this may sound weird, just bear with me)... it's almost like an out-of-body experience. I see myself talking to these women, and hear my words assuring them and instilling hope... all the while feeling peaceful and knowing that even if they never have children, they will be ok. I know I cannot say this to many, if not all, of them, because if someone had told me these words while I was still gung-ho trying-to-conceive, I would have wanted to slap them. It sounds, to those not ready to hear it, like a loss of hope. When really - it's a true gain of hope and peace.
But still, that nagging thought creeps into my heart from time to time. I know it's not from God. I try to pray it away. But it lingers. And it is stirred up particularly when I am hormonal.
Think about women who have miscarried. What is the one source of comfort we can give them, hoping to bring them peace and resolve? "One day, you will be reunited in heaven." Of course we believe that, it's not just something we say.
But where does that leave the women who have never conceived? And those who have never adopted?
And then it dawned on me. Our lives here on earth are so fleeting. We cannot even try to comprehend how heaven "works" because it is beyond the furthest reaches of our imagination.
Much like a child in the womb not understanding anything of the outside world, we have such minimal experience and surroundings on which to base our perception of what heaven must be like.
When I compare myself to that child in the womb, suddenly that nagging feeling begins to subside.
Here I am, dwelling on what I cannot have, what I do not have, and what I want. When, in the blink of an eye, none of it will matter at all. I imagine a child in the womb, trying desperately to reach out and grab her umbilical cord - trying, and failing, over and over again. It's all she wants to do before her time in the womb is through.
Once she is born, will her failures in the womb still bother her? Will her desires as she grows outside the womb still be the same?
Now of course the analogy here is not cut and dry. A grown adult woman desiring children, an inherent good, is not exactly the same as a baby desiring to play with its umbilical cord. But at the heart of the matter is the Truth: we do not know all, we do not understand all. What may be of great importance to us here and now, and becoming a source of great daily suffering, will not be experienced the same way when we reach heaven. There will be no labels of "childless" or "infertile" in heaven. Our fears will be washed away.
To this Truth I cling, especially in those moments when infertility truly stings.
*boocher: One who brews their own kombucha ;) And might I add, I have quite the knack for it, and I LOVE it! Never been more regular in my life. You're welcome for sharing.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
My First Baby
The talk with MIL went extremely well! She was very open, and was already very understanding - as was suggested by Suzie-Q in the last post's comments, she did sympathize with my situation when planning, and just didn't want to intentionally "leave me out" of anything. She was so receptive, in fact, that she began crying when I was talking about the 5 stages of infertility well before I ever did ;) When I was telling polkadot about the talk, I said there was a certain point when I did "lose it." MIL was telling me that she realized how painful this must be for me, and that it really struck her how painful it also is for DH when earlier this week, he told her that he just couldn't set up the crib. (At first, I didn't know what she meant by "THE crib." I was thinking, Why on earth would he be setting up a crib when we're not even pregnant??) But then she saw my bewildered expression and elaborated, "SIL had asked for his help to set up the crib, and he apologized and said he just couldn't handle it."
And that's when I lost it. Because, this was the first time I was hearing about this. And I know DH didn't tell me about this for a reason. Talk about breaking my heart.
I went on to tell polkadot that I was so impressed that I was able to cry in front of her, and by the end of the talk, I had shed at least 2 tears. She looked at me through her own bloodshot, tear-filled eyes and said, "You shed two tears??"
"Yes! That's huge for me!"
"Well... good for you shedding two tears..." responded my Phlegmatic friend ;)
So, it was great. The shower was not really even mentioned specifically. I did say that I wanted her to know that past or future events that corresponded with extremely difficult hormonally-charged days for me were avoided for this reason. I said it didn't matter if it was a child's birthday or a bachelor party, if it was cycle day 1, I probably would not be in the mood to attend ;) We shared a laugh about that.
And in other news, I am tickled pink to announce that IN MY HOUSE was created my very first baby...
I think it looks just like his father.
And here I thought I was barren ;) I MADE A BABY!!!!!!
OK, off to watch the Giants (who I only "really" watch in the play-offs, I must admit.) Thanks for all your prayers on Friday, they helped calm me down. I was literally making myself sick to my stomach thinking about getting so emotional in front of MIL... so silly of me!
And that's when I lost it. Because, this was the first time I was hearing about this. And I know DH didn't tell me about this for a reason. Talk about breaking my heart.
I went on to tell polkadot that I was so impressed that I was able to cry in front of her, and by the end of the talk, I had shed at least 2 tears. She looked at me through her own bloodshot, tear-filled eyes and said, "You shed two tears??"
"Yes! That's huge for me!"
"Well... good for you shedding two tears..." responded my Phlegmatic friend ;)
So, it was great. The shower was not really even mentioned specifically. I did say that I wanted her to know that past or future events that corresponded with extremely difficult hormonally-charged days for me were avoided for this reason. I said it didn't matter if it was a child's birthday or a bachelor party, if it was cycle day 1, I probably would not be in the mood to attend ;) We shared a laugh about that.
And in other news, I am tickled pink to announce that IN MY HOUSE was created my very first baby...
I think it looks just like his father.
And here I thought I was barren ;) I MADE A BABY!!!!!!
OK, off to watch the Giants (who I only "really" watch in the play-offs, I must admit.) Thanks for all your prayers on Friday, they helped calm me down. I was literally making myself sick to my stomach thinking about getting so emotional in front of MIL... so silly of me!
Friday, January 20, 2012
A Dreaded Talk
Today I will have a dreaded talk with my MIL (mother-in-law).
Let me back up. About two weeks ago, I received a text from MIL in regards to my oldest SIL (sister-in-law)'s baby shower.
This is not the type of pregnancy a Catholic woman would want to celebrate under normal conditions. Add to it the incessant pain of infertility and childlessness, and it becomes the last place on earth that Catholic woman would want to be.
So, when I received the text message, I already knew in my heart that this shower would be approaching and that my personal decision was to try to go, as long as on that day, I felt up to going. I am not looking for a way out. I could come up with a million excuses, not to mention, I may in fact have to work that day... this is not the point. I don't need an "out." I need understanding.
But I am far from having it.
The text at first glance appeared to be loving and considerate. It asked for days in late January and through February when I would be away, so that when they set the date for the shower, I could be there. I'm sure I was reading a bit too much into it, but when I thought about it more... I got a little angry. You see, when it comes to an infertile family member, what is REAL consideration? Asking them for dates when they will be around, so that when you have a baby shower, they will have no excuse not to be there??
This MIL is the one who read an entire book on Infertility (a gift from her sister for her birthday last year) and passed it along to me afterwards, telling me she understood so much better now what we were going through.
But does she?
I responded simply for her not to plan the party date around me, and that while I would certainly try to attend, I never know on any given weekend if I will be working until the day before (the truth). She left the matter alone.
But then my other SIL began texting, asking if such-and-such date worked for me, and if I received the invitation on email, etc. etc. I ignored those texts when I realized I first have to speak with my MIL.
I've realized, as I spoke to my Mom on the phone a couple weeks ago, that I do not let ANYONE see how infertility affects me. I write about it here, yes. I don't hold anything back when it comes to by blog. But the beauty of a blog is that it is anonymous. Oh, I don't mean that no one knows who I "really" am, because at this point, I think most of my readers have seen me, met me, and know me in real life. What I mean is that I am writing my emotions here... I am not showing them in the flesh. And maybe it's the Choleric in me that feels it is a weakness to show my emotions to the outside world, really show them. Rationally, I also understand that I cannot truly FEEL how I feel physically and simultaneously function from day to day at my job, at my home, and anywhere else.
This is the face I show to the world. I do not break down and cry with my infertility Creighton Model clients. I do not break down and cry during an ultrasound when the patient's ovulation was less-than-ideal. I do not break down and cry when a couple believes they are pregnant after years and years of trying, only to find out the labs show otherwise.
But while I stay strong outwardly, I am dying inwardly.
I think I have made such a resolve to staying strong (again, for self-preservation) that no one, my own mother included, is aware of how much pain I am in.
And now getting back to my MIL and the dreaded talk.
I've come to the conclusion that, no matter what happens with the shower (if I go, if I leave early, if I cannot go)... MIL needs to be "let in" to see how infertility actually affects me.
Let me tell you... I am TRULY not looking forward to this, but I know I have to do it.
Generally when I speak about infertility, even my own, I do it very matter-of-factly. "Each month that I get my period is like a miscarriage of hope, faith, and peace. I mourn the loss of what might have been my child, had God only granted the desires of my heart... but I also mourn the loss of heaven because I begin to doubt that I will ever get there knowing I wouldn't even be a mommy there."
I could say those words to any size group of people, and educate them about what infertility feels like. I would do it stoically, and at the end of the day, audience members may even wonder if I myself am infertile or if I'm just the "spokeswoman" for infertility.
But this afternoon... will not be that kind of talk.
I will need to feel the words I say. I will need to speak from my heart, not my head. It will be the same words, but a totally different conversation.
I'd better bring some tissues.
Let me back up. About two weeks ago, I received a text from MIL in regards to my oldest SIL (sister-in-law)'s baby shower.
This is not the type of pregnancy a Catholic woman would want to celebrate under normal conditions. Add to it the incessant pain of infertility and childlessness, and it becomes the last place on earth that Catholic woman would want to be.
So, when I received the text message, I already knew in my heart that this shower would be approaching and that my personal decision was to try to go, as long as on that day, I felt up to going. I am not looking for a way out. I could come up with a million excuses, not to mention, I may in fact have to work that day... this is not the point. I don't need an "out." I need understanding.
But I am far from having it.
The text at first glance appeared to be loving and considerate. It asked for days in late January and through February when I would be away, so that when they set the date for the shower, I could be there. I'm sure I was reading a bit too much into it, but when I thought about it more... I got a little angry. You see, when it comes to an infertile family member, what is REAL consideration? Asking them for dates when they will be around, so that when you have a baby shower, they will have no excuse not to be there??
This MIL is the one who read an entire book on Infertility (a gift from her sister for her birthday last year) and passed it along to me afterwards, telling me she understood so much better now what we were going through.
But does she?
I responded simply for her not to plan the party date around me, and that while I would certainly try to attend, I never know on any given weekend if I will be working until the day before (the truth). She left the matter alone.
But then my other SIL began texting, asking if such-and-such date worked for me, and if I received the invitation on email, etc. etc. I ignored those texts when I realized I first have to speak with my MIL.
I've realized, as I spoke to my Mom on the phone a couple weeks ago, that I do not let ANYONE see how infertility affects me. I write about it here, yes. I don't hold anything back when it comes to by blog. But the beauty of a blog is that it is anonymous. Oh, I don't mean that no one knows who I "really" am, because at this point, I think most of my readers have seen me, met me, and know me in real life. What I mean is that I am writing my emotions here... I am not showing them in the flesh. And maybe it's the Choleric in me that feels it is a weakness to show my emotions to the outside world, really show them. Rationally, I also understand that I cannot truly FEEL how I feel physically and simultaneously function from day to day at my job, at my home, and anywhere else.
This is the face I show to the world. I do not break down and cry with my infertility Creighton Model clients. I do not break down and cry during an ultrasound when the patient's ovulation was less-than-ideal. I do not break down and cry when a couple believes they are pregnant after years and years of trying, only to find out the labs show otherwise.
But while I stay strong outwardly, I am dying inwardly.
I think I have made such a resolve to staying strong (again, for self-preservation) that no one, my own mother included, is aware of how much pain I am in.
And now getting back to my MIL and the dreaded talk.
I've come to the conclusion that, no matter what happens with the shower (if I go, if I leave early, if I cannot go)... MIL needs to be "let in" to see how infertility actually affects me.
Let me tell you... I am TRULY not looking forward to this, but I know I have to do it.
Generally when I speak about infertility, even my own, I do it very matter-of-factly. "Each month that I get my period is like a miscarriage of hope, faith, and peace. I mourn the loss of what might have been my child, had God only granted the desires of my heart... but I also mourn the loss of heaven because I begin to doubt that I will ever get there knowing I wouldn't even be a mommy there."
I could say those words to any size group of people, and educate them about what infertility feels like. I would do it stoically, and at the end of the day, audience members may even wonder if I myself am infertile or if I'm just the "spokeswoman" for infertility.
But this afternoon... will not be that kind of talk.
I will need to feel the words I say. I will need to speak from my heart, not my head. It will be the same words, but a totally different conversation.
I'd better bring some tissues.
Monday, January 16, 2012
So Much to Say
Time flies when you're childless.
I keep meaning to sit down and write a blog post, but things just keep coming up. Sorry to leave you all hanging (I'm sure you were all holding your breath waiting for an update ;) )
DH was in the ER on Friday. He was having chest pains since late Wednesday, and made a cardiology appointment for Friday morning. It got "better" enough for him to not go immediately to the hospital, but then it got bad again on Thursday night. He actually started saying his goodbyes to me as he tucked me into bed Thursday. I didn't mean to laugh, but... it was kinda funny ;) He didn't die (obviously) and went to the appointment on Friday, and the cardiologist suspected pericarditis, an inflammation around the heart due to a virus. He scheduled DH for an echocardiogram Tuesday and sent him home with a prescription for Motrin.
On his way home, a car cut him off and his father (who was driving) had to stop short. This caused increased pain, and DH called the cardiologist who told him to return to the ER, and get further testing. This in turn caused TCIE to get a little worried. After several hours waiting for the labs and chest x-ray results to come back, we got the news that there was no need to stay at the hospital, that everything looked ok, and it was, again, likely pericarditis which would be helped with his Motrin prescription.
Crazy day. While I was definitely worried, I did also feel a strong sense of peace during the whole thing. That is not usually the way I react to things, so I'm thinking that my prayer life has led me to a place of greater trust. For that, I have infertility to thank.
I've been thinking a lot about how much our infertility has done for us. I can't help but think that I need to be more grateful for this gift God has given us - the chance to do His will, even if we don't understand it, and to bring light out of darkness. I've gone to so many shrines, asked so many Saints for their intercession, prayed so many Novenas... thinking that the answer to our prayer is "just around the corner," when in actuality, we are living the answer. Have I ever thanked the Saints? Thanked God?
The readings at Mass this week were, as usual, so intricately linked to our present struggles. It was another reminder that when God calls us, we need to answer that call and live it out. I am SO THANKFUL that He has called me to this life - this life of struggle, of pain, of sorrow - and has given me the opportunity to do His will through the cross.
It really hit home during the Presentation of the Gifts, when the congregation sang "The Summons." As I texted All You Who Hope late last night, I immediately recollected her blog post years ago about this very song, and how appropriate it is to any cross, particulary infertility with its intrinsic humility-factor. I completely lost it trying to sing the fourth verse:
"Will you love the 'you' you hide if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you've found to reshape the world around,
through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?"
I don't usually make resolutions. But I know in my heart that I need to live these words. I've been working so hard, living out the 3rd and 4th line - using my infertility and my struggles to reach out and help those around me, letting God use me as He sees fit. It's the 1st and 2nd line of this verse that caused me to choke up and have no voice.
Will you love the you you hide...? I've shown my humiliation, I've revealed it to the outside world... but that's not enough. I need to love what humiliates me so.* Every part of it. Because it is a part of the body of Christ. In our weakness we are made perfect.
Will you quell the fear inside...? Fear. It seems to be built into every fiber of this journey of childlessness. Fear of the diagnosis. Fear of the treatment not working. Fear of not being able to adopt. Fear of how long it's going to take. Fear of the unknown.
But He has called my name. And so I must respond by loving, and trusting without fear.
Thank you, almighty God and Father, for allowing me to continue learning and growing in faith through this cross.
* Here was my original comment on AYWH's blog post. I went back and read the comments after writing this post, and it's funny how even back then, I knew what I had to do...
"Wow, I haven't sung that since HS... and the words probably meant nothing to me, then!
I especially like the part, "Will you love the 'you' you hide if I but call your name?" I think the me I hide is the infertile me, not infertile in the can't get pg sense, but all aspects- not able to do things I think I should be able to do. I do not love that me.
But God is calling me to love that me."
Interesting ;)
I keep meaning to sit down and write a blog post, but things just keep coming up. Sorry to leave you all hanging (I'm sure you were all holding your breath waiting for an update ;) )
DH was in the ER on Friday. He was having chest pains since late Wednesday, and made a cardiology appointment for Friday morning. It got "better" enough for him to not go immediately to the hospital, but then it got bad again on Thursday night. He actually started saying his goodbyes to me as he tucked me into bed Thursday. I didn't mean to laugh, but... it was kinda funny ;) He didn't die (obviously) and went to the appointment on Friday, and the cardiologist suspected pericarditis, an inflammation around the heart due to a virus. He scheduled DH for an echocardiogram Tuesday and sent him home with a prescription for Motrin.
On his way home, a car cut him off and his father (who was driving) had to stop short. This caused increased pain, and DH called the cardiologist who told him to return to the ER, and get further testing. This in turn caused TCIE to get a little worried. After several hours waiting for the labs and chest x-ray results to come back, we got the news that there was no need to stay at the hospital, that everything looked ok, and it was, again, likely pericarditis which would be helped with his Motrin prescription.
Crazy day. While I was definitely worried, I did also feel a strong sense of peace during the whole thing. That is not usually the way I react to things, so I'm thinking that my prayer life has led me to a place of greater trust. For that, I have infertility to thank.
I've been thinking a lot about how much our infertility has done for us. I can't help but think that I need to be more grateful for this gift God has given us - the chance to do His will, even if we don't understand it, and to bring light out of darkness. I've gone to so many shrines, asked so many Saints for their intercession, prayed so many Novenas... thinking that the answer to our prayer is "just around the corner," when in actuality, we are living the answer. Have I ever thanked the Saints? Thanked God?
The readings at Mass this week were, as usual, so intricately linked to our present struggles. It was another reminder that when God calls us, we need to answer that call and live it out. I am SO THANKFUL that He has called me to this life - this life of struggle, of pain, of sorrow - and has given me the opportunity to do His will through the cross.
It really hit home during the Presentation of the Gifts, when the congregation sang "The Summons." As I texted All You Who Hope late last night, I immediately recollected her blog post years ago about this very song, and how appropriate it is to any cross, particulary infertility with its intrinsic humility-factor. I completely lost it trying to sing the fourth verse:
"Will you love the 'you' you hide if I but call your name?
Will you quell the fear inside and never be the same?
Will you use the faith you've found to reshape the world around,
through my sight and touch and sound in you and you in me?"
I don't usually make resolutions. But I know in my heart that I need to live these words. I've been working so hard, living out the 3rd and 4th line - using my infertility and my struggles to reach out and help those around me, letting God use me as He sees fit. It's the 1st and 2nd line of this verse that caused me to choke up and have no voice.
Will you love the you you hide...? I've shown my humiliation, I've revealed it to the outside world... but that's not enough. I need to love what humiliates me so.* Every part of it. Because it is a part of the body of Christ. In our weakness we are made perfect.
Will you quell the fear inside...? Fear. It seems to be built into every fiber of this journey of childlessness. Fear of the diagnosis. Fear of the treatment not working. Fear of not being able to adopt. Fear of how long it's going to take. Fear of the unknown.
But He has called my name. And so I must respond by loving, and trusting without fear.
Thank you, almighty God and Father, for allowing me to continue learning and growing in faith through this cross.
* Here was my original comment on AYWH's blog post. I went back and read the comments after writing this post, and it's funny how even back then, I knew what I had to do...
"Wow, I haven't sung that since HS... and the words probably meant nothing to me, then!
I especially like the part, "Will you love the 'you' you hide if I but call your name?" I think the me I hide is the infertile me, not infertile in the can't get pg sense, but all aspects- not able to do things I think I should be able to do. I do not love that me.
But God is calling me to love that me."
Interesting ;)
Friday, January 6, 2012
The Gift of Hope
Yesterday I received a beautiful gift from a beautiful new friend.
About two months ago, I performed an ultrasound on an older patient who loved to talk. We'll call her "T." Right off the bat I could tell T was fiercely Catholic, and loved being a patient at our office. She told me all about herself and asked all about me; we discussed where we grew up, our careers, our Catholic faith... even a little politics. The exam, which would have taken about 30 minutes start to finish, ended up taking 45.
While I was about to step out of the room, T asked me if there was anything she could do for me, specifically, if there was anything she could pray for on my behalf. I paused a moment (since this was one of the first ultrasounds I had performed without my infertility coming up as a topic of discussion), and decided, what the heck? If she's offering...
So I said, "Sure. If you could please pray that my husband and I will be able to conceive. We've been trying over 5 years."
T sympathetically assured me of her prayers, and began asking if I had heard of/prayed for the intercession of various Saints, including St. Anthony (who I only this year discovered is a patron for infertility). I told her that we had done every Novena to every Saint known to man :) She then told me a story of her relative, who married a woman from Mexico, and how they tried for years and years, only later to adopt several children. She said that while she would certainly pray for me to conceive, that I should always be open to "other options" of growing my family, because God may call me to one of them someday. I nodded and smiled. They're the stories all well-meaning people tell, to make the barren woman feel better. I knew she meant no harm. But I also knew that it did no good to propagate a myth.
So I responded, "That is beautiful. But, while we would love to adopt, we already pursued it and were told that we could not."
T's face dropped. She felt horrible, I could tell. She again assured me of her prayers, asked my husband's name, and thanked me for being so kind to her during her exam.
T returned a couple of weeks later, for a procedure which the Dr performed with ultrasound guidance. During the procedure, T spoke to me about Our Lady of Guadalupe, and all of the wonderful stories surrounding the image on the famous tilma. After the procedure, she told me that she had emailed a priest up in the northeast who has a traveling image of Our Lady, and she told him about me and my husband. She said she hoped I didn't mind, but she was on a mission :) I told her of course I didn't mind! She said she had not received a reply yet, and that she hoped the priest didn't think she was some crazy lunatic ;)
The holidays passed, and with it, the end of my last "actively trying to conceive" cycle, which came to a screeching halt on Christmas Day. I got through it, by the grace of God, and enjoyed a light work week between Christmas and New Year's.
This past Tuesday, our center received a call from T, who asked if I would be in the following morning, because she wanted to bring me something. The receptionist told her that I would be here.
When T arrived, I brought her back to the consult room that I use in the mornings. She handed me an envelope with a card inside. As I opened the card, I saw two scapulars. T told me that the scapulars were from Mexico City, from the Our Lady of Guadalupe shrine, and were touched to the wall underneath the image of Our Lady... on December 24th, 2011.
It took all my strength to not cry as I held those scapulars. I was at work, after all - with patients waiting for me right down the hall.
I listened as T told me that her relative and his wife were there on Christmas Eve and sent these scapulars back to T, since she had requested them for a special purpose.
I hardly knew how to respond aside from thanking her again and again, and giving her a hug, and offering to return the prayers.
On the Eve of the birth of the child Jesus, and on the Eve of the start of my period - I was being prayed for at the feet of Our Lady of Guadalupe. In this one moment in time, when so much hope was alive in my heart, in celebration of Our Savior's imminent birth, and the possibility of a miracle pregnancy in my own womb... Our Lady was holding me close to her heart. And she knew that the following day would crash down around me, extinguishing my dreams, washing away my hope of motherhood, but that Jesus - Jesus would still be there.
And it was that hope which she wanted me to hold onto. The hope of Christ, continually working in my life, continually growing in my heart.
I am overwhelmed.
About two months ago, I performed an ultrasound on an older patient who loved to talk. We'll call her "T." Right off the bat I could tell T was fiercely Catholic, and loved being a patient at our office. She told me all about herself and asked all about me; we discussed where we grew up, our careers, our Catholic faith... even a little politics. The exam, which would have taken about 30 minutes start to finish, ended up taking 45.
While I was about to step out of the room, T asked me if there was anything she could do for me, specifically, if there was anything she could pray for on my behalf. I paused a moment (since this was one of the first ultrasounds I had performed without my infertility coming up as a topic of discussion), and decided, what the heck? If she's offering...
So I said, "Sure. If you could please pray that my husband and I will be able to conceive. We've been trying over 5 years."
T sympathetically assured me of her prayers, and began asking if I had heard of/prayed for the intercession of various Saints, including St. Anthony (who I only this year discovered is a patron for infertility). I told her that we had done every Novena to every Saint known to man :) She then told me a story of her relative, who married a woman from Mexico, and how they tried for years and years, only later to adopt several children. She said that while she would certainly pray for me to conceive, that I should always be open to "other options" of growing my family, because God may call me to one of them someday. I nodded and smiled. They're the stories all well-meaning people tell, to make the barren woman feel better. I knew she meant no harm. But I also knew that it did no good to propagate a myth.
So I responded, "That is beautiful. But, while we would love to adopt, we already pursued it and were told that we could not."
T's face dropped. She felt horrible, I could tell. She again assured me of her prayers, asked my husband's name, and thanked me for being so kind to her during her exam.
T returned a couple of weeks later, for a procedure which the Dr performed with ultrasound guidance. During the procedure, T spoke to me about Our Lady of Guadalupe, and all of the wonderful stories surrounding the image on the famous tilma. After the procedure, she told me that she had emailed a priest up in the northeast who has a traveling image of Our Lady, and she told him about me and my husband. She said she hoped I didn't mind, but she was on a mission :) I told her of course I didn't mind! She said she had not received a reply yet, and that she hoped the priest didn't think she was some crazy lunatic ;)
The holidays passed, and with it, the end of my last "actively trying to conceive" cycle, which came to a screeching halt on Christmas Day. I got through it, by the grace of God, and enjoyed a light work week between Christmas and New Year's.
This past Tuesday, our center received a call from T, who asked if I would be in the following morning, because she wanted to bring me something. The receptionist told her that I would be here.
When T arrived, I brought her back to the consult room that I use in the mornings. She handed me an envelope with a card inside. As I opened the card, I saw two scapulars. T told me that the scapulars were from Mexico City, from the Our Lady of Guadalupe shrine, and were touched to the wall underneath the image of Our Lady... on December 24th, 2011.
It took all my strength to not cry as I held those scapulars. I was at work, after all - with patients waiting for me right down the hall.
I listened as T told me that her relative and his wife were there on Christmas Eve and sent these scapulars back to T, since she had requested them for a special purpose.
I hardly knew how to respond aside from thanking her again and again, and giving her a hug, and offering to return the prayers.
On the Eve of the birth of the child Jesus, and on the Eve of the start of my period - I was being prayed for at the feet of Our Lady of Guadalupe. In this one moment in time, when so much hope was alive in my heart, in celebration of Our Savior's imminent birth, and the possibility of a miracle pregnancy in my own womb... Our Lady was holding me close to her heart. And she knew that the following day would crash down around me, extinguishing my dreams, washing away my hope of motherhood, but that Jesus - Jesus would still be there.
And it was that hope which she wanted me to hold onto. The hope of Christ, continually working in my life, continually growing in my heart.
I am overwhelmed.
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