Walking through a Minefield aka: "The rantings of a bitter infertile"

Everyday I open my eyes, walk out my door or turn on my computer, it's like walking through a minefield. Will something or someone trigger those unmistakable feelings that stem from grieving infertility and the loss of a son? I hate that those possibilities are even there. I hate that I never know when something may trigger and, "BOOM!" I hate that my mind can so easily hone on a detail that reminds me.

Case in point - my job. I love my new job. I love that I get to interact with people again. But part of my job involves checking in kids to childcare while parents are working out. I must find their card to hand over with name tags. When I see the kids and scan the card for names, I see the birth dates and my mind instantly goes to how old Robert would be. If the child's birthdate is close to his, I begin to study the child, looking at what they're doing. How they're communicating, interacting with their mom or dad. And then once again, I grieve what I've lost. It doesn't happen all the time, but it does occasionally, and it's just enough to remind me once again.

Next, facebook. Ugh. I don't even know where to begin with this one. In the wake of media like facebook and twitter, we're absolutely bombarded with instantaneous, personal details of our "friends" lives. Besides not caring what you just ate for lunch or the size of your bowel movement (okay, so I'm slightly over-exaggerating, but only slightly. Have you seen some of those crazy posts?!), then those of us who are struggling with loss and infertility feel the barrage of baby banter and news. So I may innocently hop on my fb news and BAM! Completely blind-sided by another baby announcement! Now can they do whatever they want? Absolutely! Should they be happy that they're pregnant? Yes! But do I have to read it? Nope! Love hiding those feeds or a person altogether. Do I have to be incredibly happy for them, plaster on my fake smile and give a congrats? Nope. Am I obligated to respond to invitations on fb or by text?!?!? to a baby shower? Nope!

But does this mean that I'm a bitter infertile? No. It means that infertility and loss is devastating. It means that I walk in grief and have constant reminders around me. It means that I will never, ever forget what this feels like. Because if I am able to become pregnant again and bring that sweet baby home, I would never, ever want someone else to feel this pain. And now that I know how it feels, I have absolutely no excuse. Now it's true that I don't know how it feels to be pregnant after infertility, but I know what it feels like before, and that's enough to know that I won't be making any big announcements on fb. Read my blog? Fine, because then this would become a blog about my pregnancy and new baby. It's a choice to come here. But if and when we get our good news, I'll be using the old-fashioned way to let friends and family know.

And last, those pregnant bellies. Sometimes I feel like I'm a magnet for pregnant women. Or I can't walk through Target or go to church without seeing bellies everywhere! And the hand! Oh, the hand on the belly! Yes! We all know that you're pregnant. And yes, I realize that sometimes it's just comfortable to rest your hand there. But really? Do you have to sit and just caress it, every stroke screaming, "Look what I have! Look what you don't have!" Ahhh!!! It's torture.

And I clearly realize that I may have offended some people with this post. But, hey, it's nothing personal. And it's my blog and I can say what I want to (as I blow raspberries!) I think I actually feel a little better getting that out.

Rant over.

A Case of the "What-if's?"

"But forget all that- 

it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.

For I am about to do something new.

See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?

I will make a pathway through the wilderness.

I will create rivers in the dry wasteland." 

Isaiah 43:18-19 (NLT)

I admit it. I have a case of the "what-if's?" That's when you find yourself thinking over the past and asking, "What if...?" You fill in the blank. Maybe it's a question of regret. A lot of the what-if's are based on regret, in my opinion. 

"What if I'd been a different major in college?"

"What if I'd made better choices when I was younger?"

"What if? What if? What if?"

Much of my what if's are over the last few years. It's mostly at night, lying in bed, when everything is quiet and it's just me and my thoughts. 

"What if Robert had not died?" Yeah, that seems to be a reoccurring one for me lately. I find myself playing over and over in my head what I did during my pregnancy. What I ate. What I drank. My activities. Could I have prevented it? And of course, in the end, it's a fruitless pursuit, only ending in sadness and disappointment. What if?

"What if we had gone through with our 2nd IVF cycle?" If I had done my cycle as planned and become pregnant, I would be due in two months, right around my 34th birthday, in fact. I'd be planning for a new baby. A new brother or sister for Mason. A new start after the nightmare of loss and infertility over the past 2 1/2 years. What if?

"What if we do try IVF again and it doesn't work?" I'm acutely aware that there are no guarantees when it comes to fertility treatments. That after the money is spent and the cycle is complete, we could still be right back where we are now. What if?

2 Corinthians 10:5 reminds me to keep my thoughts captive. In fact, the "what-if's" draw me further from   knowing God because it causes me to selfishly focus on me and what I want, rather than on Him and what He wants to accomplish through me. So when I do feel a case of the "what-if's" coming on, I can ask Him to help me redirect my thoughts. 

The only place that the "what-if's" live is inside my head. Essentially, I'm living in the past instead of embracing my present and looking forward to the future. It's easy to get stuck living in the past. In fact, that's how the enemy would prefer we live. Drudging through the guilt and regrets of our past holds us back from living a truly abundant life. A life right in front of me, not behind. 

Bob and I are in the process of praying over and making some big decisions for our family this year. More infertility treatments, possibly abroad? Adoption, either domestic or international? But I know that the only way I'll be able to move forward is to quit looking back. 

Today Lord, I surrender all my "what-if's." 

Sometimes you just have to try harder

One of the most precious times of the day for me is the 15 or so minutes that I lay with Mason each night before he goes to bed. After the shower and teeth brushing, medicine taking and reading books time is done, we simply "relax" together (as Mason would call it) and it gives me a chance for Mommy and Mason time.

We talk about his day, the good and the bad. We pray together. We act silly and role-play with his stuffed animals. We just have time together; such precious time.

So a few evenings ago, I was caught off guard when Mason said, "Mommy, I don't think God likes me very much." Of course I replied with, "Why Mason, what would make you say that?" And what came next was enough to break a mom's heart. Mason continued, "I've been asking God for a brother or sister for a long time now and He still hasn't brought me one. He must not like me."

By this time, the tears were silently flowing as I held my sweet little guy in my arms even tighter than before. Of course, I told him that God not only likes him, but he loves him. And that fact that he still doesn't have a brother or sister here with him does not mean that God doesn't like him. I told him that he needs to keep praying and be patient for what God has for our family. "If I keep praying does it mean I'll get one?" He quietly asked. "Nope. It doesn't, " I reply. "It's important to be specific when we pray, but God is not a genie in a bottle," I explain. "Just because we ask, doesn't mean we're going to get it. If it brings glory to God and it's His plan for our family, then it will happen when it's supposed to happen."

I went on to tell him what a wonderful big brother that he's going to be and that I am so proud of him to be so honest with me and with God.

I told him that mommy and daddy wanted another baby, too, and that we were trying very hard to make that happen. To which Mason replied, "Well mommy, sometimes you just have to try harder!" Definitely brought a smile to my face. If he only knew just how hard we've tried and continue to try.

That answer seemed to satisfy and he went on to rattle off baby names that he likes, including Boo-boo bear and poopy baby (yeah, what can I say, he's 5 1/2).

It was then that I realized another unintended impact of infertility. Infertility doesn't just effect those who are infertile. Its reaches are far greater. There are grandchildless grandparents. There are onlies longing for the love and comfort of a sibling. There are friends who want to be good friends, but don't know how to announce their new pregnancy to you without devastating you. It's never just about the infertile.

So now I catch him periodically, quietly talking to God and continuing to ask for a brother and sister  (yes, he put in his order for both). The last time I asked him about it, he proceeded to tell me that God said he'd bring him a sister by Friday. If only it happened that quickly.

Playing Catch up

I've been so not consistent with writing on my blog. There's been plenty going on, but I just haven't been in the mood to write.

If I would have delivered on my original due date, tomorrow would have been Robert's 2nd Birthday; it's almost hard to believe. I don't even know why I thought of my due date today. It mostly hits me on the day I found out Robert died or the date I delivered him. I can't help but to think of what my life would be like now with a 5 1/2 year old and a two year old. Two boys. Two brothers. It's been over two years now since Robert died and I still miss him. Grief is a funny thing (um, not funny "ha, ha"). It's peculiar. You're able to move forward, but you never forget. You never know when or how it will hit you, even years after your loss. There's no statute of limitations on grief.

It's important for people to remember that no matter how many other children you have or may have in the future, you must be allowed to grieve the child you've lost. I know that people don't mean to be malicious or mean spirited, but there must be a sensitivity when it comes to loss, specifically referring to miscarriage or still birth. There are things that if others knew, they may not make the mistake of saying or doing something that can be devastating to those who've suffered a loss. Maybe this will help others to understand.

~20 Things Those Who've Suffered a Loss Wish People Would Understand~

1.     I wish you would not be afraid to mention my baby. The truth is just because you never say my baby doesn't mean he doesn't deserve your recognition.

2.     I wish that if we did talk about my baby and I cried you didn't think it was because you have hurt me by mentioning him. The truth is I need to cry and talk about my baby with you. Crying and emotional outbursts help me heal.

3.     I wish that you could talk about my baby more than once. The truth is if you do, it reassures me that you haven't forgotten him and that you do care and understand.

4.     I wish you wouldn't think that I don't want to talk about my baby. The truth is that I love my baby and need to talk about him.

5.     I wish you could tell me you are sorry my baby has died and that you are thinking of me. The truth is it tells me you care. 

6.     I wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me. The truth is the memory of my baby, the love I feel for my baby, the dreams I had and the memories I have created for my baby are all loving memories. Yes, there are bad memories too but please understand that it's not all like that.

7.     I wish you wouldn't pretend that my baby never existed. The truth is we both know I had a baby growing inside of me.

8.     I wish you wouldn't judge me because I am not acting the way you think I should be. The truth is grief is a very personal thing and we are all different people who deal with things differently. 

9.     I wish you wouldn't think if I have a good day I'm "over it" or if I have a bad day I am being unreasonable because you think I should be over it. The truth is there is no "normal" way for me to act. 

10.  I wish you wouldn't stay away from me. The truth is losing my baby doesn't mean I'm contagious. By staying away you make me feel isolated, confused and like it's my fault.

11.  I wish you wouldn't expect my grief to be "over and done with" in a few weeks, months, or years for that matter. The truth is that it may get easier with time but I will never be "over this".

12.  I wish you wouldn't think that my baby wasn't a real baby and it was blood and tissue or a fetus.  The truth is my baby was a human life. He had a soul, heart, body, legs, arms and face. I have seen my baby's body and face. My baby was a real person.

13.  My babies due date, Mothers Day, celebration times, the day my baby died and the day my baby was delivered are all important and sad days for me. The truth is I wish you could tell me by words or by letter you are thinking of me on these days.

14.  I wish you would understand that losing my baby has changed me. The truth is I am not the same person I was before and will never be that person again. If you keep waiting for me to get back to "normal" you will stay frustrated. I am a new person with new thoughts, dreams, beliefs and values. Please try to get to know the real me --- maybe you'll still like me.

15.  I wish you wouldn't tell me to have another baby. The truth is that I want the baby I lost and no other baby can replace him. Babies aren't interchangeable. 

16.  I wish you wouldn't feel awkward or uncomfortable talking about my baby or being near me. When you do, I can see it. The truth is it's not fair to make me feel uncomfortable just because you do.

17.  I wish you wouldn't think that you'll keep away because all my friends and family will be there for me. The truth is, everyone thinks the same thing and I am often left with no one.

18.  I wish you would understand that being around pregnant women is uncomfortable for me.

19.  I wish you wouldn't say that it's natures way of telling me something was wrong with my baby. The truth is my baby was perfect to me no matter what you think nature is saying.

20.  I wish you would understand that what you are really saying when you say "next time things will be okay". The truth is how do you know? What will you say it happens to me again.