I May Never

Motherhood is life altering... that's obvious. It's not about you anymore, or you and your spouse, there's this other person now. And in the infant days that person relies on you for everything. It's amazing and beautiful and I wouldn't change it for the world, but I'm coming to see that there are quite a few things I may never do again (sort of kind of only half kidding). I'm not complaining at all, it's just kind of funny how you can wake up one morning and realize that its been months since you did something you used to semi-regularly to often.

First up, read a book. Certainly not a hardback. That requires two hands and I have two hands available to me almost never. Even driving, I'm going one handed most of the time, as I have perfected the art of holding the paci in his mouth as we travel down the road. I may dislocate my shoulder, but my ride is mostly quiet. But reading... are you kidding me?!? If I did have the time to read, I should be reading parenting books. Four months will be here in the blink of an eye and I need a plan for sleep! We've had hit or miss days where I think, "oh my gosh it's happening" only to be followed by the worst night of sleep ever. We need help in this department. I know it, and I know I should be researching it, but see above. Not to mention all of the other stages that I'm ridiculously unprepared for. But the truth is, if I scrounged up enough time to read and I had both hands available, my thoughts would be "SLEEP!!!! Oh God, have mercy let me sleep!" rather than "hmm, I wonder what's new on the bestseller list." My only real hope to read would be during the middle of the night feedings when I'm typically scouring Facebook on my phone for anything that might have changed in the last three hours. Seriously, help a mama out people, post something interesting at 2am! I could use this time to read a kindle book on my phone if I was desperate, but really, I'm only desperate to go back to sleep!

Along the same line, I may never read the Bible, have quiet time, etc. ever again. I'm not in anyway saying that I was perfect before Garrison. My prayer life has been crappy for a number of years, and I haven't been good at journaling or keeping a notebook in over a decade. But I was occasionally reading a new book or devotional and at least attempting to read the Bible for a few minutes each morning. 90% of the time, that was something super small and quick like She Reads Truth or 1,000 Gifts Devotional, but still, it was something. Now, I just can't imagine ever getting back in the swing of things and feeling relaxed and undistributed enough for it to mean anything. I don't want to do it just to check a box, I want the time to matter. However, She Reads Truth just launched a new series today on Women in the Word. I'm going to give it my best shot, acknowledge that "quiet time" might happen at 3am in a semi-coherent state of oblivion, and give myself lots of grace.

And lastly, we may never have sex again. The whole "once you adopt you'll get pregnant" thing... yeah, about that. Who are these people who are so relaxed and stress free after adopting that they have ample time to roll around in the sheets all day? In my opinion, having a baby (whether through birth or adoption) is about the best birth control there is. Anyone else? Am I alone in this? If on the off chance there was a period of time in which neither of us were rocking, soothing, feeding a baby and there was nothing to do like wash bottles, or fold clothes, or make dinner, or remember that we have two pets, I can almost guarantee one of us (or both) would rather be sleeping than having sex. The infertility blog world has suddenly become awash in ladies that find themselves mysteriously pregnant after years of infertility after bringing home their first child. I am am now far more baffled by this than I was before Garrison. I'm not sure which is the greater miracle... the pregnancy in light of infertility, or the fact that they found time to have intercourse. Unless you tell me that you all got pregnant on the VERY FIRST TIME you had sex again after bringing your little one home, I am just so confused. You had sex enough to get pregnant with a three month old (or six month old, or nine month old) in the house?!?! I stand here truly amazed at your wifely and motherly skills of keeping it all together without abandoning your spouse in the mean time. Amazing. Kudos to you girls (whether you got pregnant from it or not!). High five and fist bump and standing ovation from me.

So yeah, life looks pretty different the last few months. I think I have permanent dark circles under my eyes from my little rebellious sleeper, and I should probably take out stock now in Boing concealer. However, in my opinion (you'd have to ask my husband if he agrees on that last one) these are the SMALLEST sacrifices EVER to get to wake up to the greatest gift I've ever received. If I never have time for myself again for the rest of my days (which I'm sure will not actually happen), it will be worth it just to be mama to this beautiful baby. 

Wonderful Weekends

SOOO! The last couple of weekends have been amazing! Now some may say that I'm currently living one giant weekend as I'm not going into work. They would be WRONG! Can I get an "Amen" from the stay at home moms? Totally a difference. But the last two weekends were definitely what weekends were made for. 

Last Friday was our 5th anniversary. Obviously we couldn't do much, but I'm pleased to say that we did celebrate. We're five for five on our commitment to celebrate our anniversary each year. This year we decided that each of us could use some time to relax, so Sam went to play a round of golf and I got a massage and a facial. Golf is Sam's happy place... He LOVES it, but it's like the most expensive hobby ever, so he rarely gets to play. I LOVE massages, but that's definitely a luxury thing for me... my last one was for our second anniversary, three years ago. While we were out for the day, Sam's mom kept Little Man for us. That afternoon we picked him up and went over to my mom's. She kindly offered to watch him for the night, so we went out to dinner at Bonefish and then spent the night at Chateau Elan. Chateau Elan is literally across the street from my mom's subdivision, so we were approximately three minutes away. It was nice to be close enough that I could relax, but separate enough that we could enjoy each other and celebrate five years together. It wasn't the most glamorous anniversary, but I'm really proud that we found a way to keep our promise for another year. I don't have any photos though, so you'll have to just trust me that it happened. 

On Saturday, the day after our anniversary my mom hosted a baby shower for us. It was really wonderful! She worked really hard on decorations, and the house was BEAUTIFUL! It was a really special day for our family and family friends to come meet Garrison and shower our family with love. 

Mom thoroughly enjoyed making a gazillion tissue paper flowers

The beautiful spread

Our one any only interest flop… Mom's goal were those tulle balloons you see
everywhere. FYI… they don't float. Like at all. So some gold spray paint to the rescue.

Sam had present duty for approximately one gift before he vacated the seat of honor

Happy little Greavu family

Mom was really wise (and awesome) and used items that I wanted
for his nursery for the shower decorations. This little
elephant will now take up residence in the nursery.

Sunday was Easter and Garrison's first time at church. We decided to take him to Waumba Land (preschool) as a packed auditorium and a screaming baby sounds awful. 

When you can't hunt Easter eggs, Easter is kind of a snooze.

He got the royal treatment complete with VIP stickers, an "Athens, I love You" onesie, and a sticker to celebrate his first time in Waumba Land. 

I wanted one of him awake, but first days at church are exhausting.

I think I was a good bit more excited about his first day in Waumba, as he pretty much snoozed. For me, this was a very long awaited day. I've served in the preschool ministry since August of 2012. I've watched hundreds of pregnant bellies and baby carriers walk past my door every Sunday for years. But even more, every Sunday for years, I've checked myself in only to have the parent pickup sticker print. Sunday after Sunday, I've simply thrown that part away, but no longer. 

I'll be needing that parent pickup sticker now!

It was a really incredible weekend. One filled with long awaited dreams come true, redemption, and lots of celebrations! It was also pretty crazy to think that this time next year we'll have a one year old to celebrate Easter with. Still surreal to think that this is my life. 

Yesterday my sweet friends here in Athens through me a second baby shower. These ladies have been some of my biggest supporters and cheerleaders over the last few years. In a lot of ways, Garrison is the fruits of their labor as they have spent countless hours in prayer for our family. It was so special to get to celebrate with them and introduce him to the answer to their prayers.

Beautiful (and delicious) cupcakes by my friend, Laura.
Notice that she wrote a bazillion nicknames for Garrison.

The beautiful spread of food. My friend, Danielle, has
THE BEST house. Seriously. Add that she and her husband are
great cooks, and well, they could sell tickets to be friends with them.

Some of the beautiful decorations that the girls came up with…
don't be jealous, my friend Kristin is a ridiculously
popular interior designer.

The remaining Athenian members of my original small group…
love these girls to pieces!

Current small group (minus one). So thankful for each of these ladies!

These weekends have been so special! I wasn't sure if I'd ever get to have a baby shower… kind of a always the bridesmaid, never the bride, type of deal. But now I've had TWO and they were both so special! And while it makes for a rough first few weeks, it's pretty awesome to have your baby with you at the baby shower. We're so, so thankful for the outpouring of love and gifts we've received since bringing Garrison home. He's going to be one well dressed  and well read little dude. 

When I Said I Do

Five years. That's what we're celebrating today! Five years of marriage. 

This anniversary admittedly kind of snuck up on me. I haven't really spent the past few days leading up to this anniversary reminiscing or looking back through old wedding photos. I think I've got a pretty good excuse though, right?

Last night as a held Little Butt I read back through my old posts on past anniversaries. There is definitely a theme in the last few... for better or for worse. When I said I do, I had no idea what "for worse" really meant. How could I? I was 24 years old… I felt old, but gosh, I was just a baby. We had no clue that our vows would be tested by fire so soon. No one saw infertility coming. No one could have predicated the bomb that would soon drop right in the midst of our marriage. We were barely 16 months in when our first tragedy struck. Since that moment, I think we've seen our fair share of the for worse part those vows talk about. 

On one anniversary, I wrote the following, "but the really cool part about marriage: you've got somebody to walk through the 'for worse' with. And when the 'for better' comes, that person understands better than anyone else how much you have to celebrate!" I stand by that today. The last year was filled with much of the same. While it wasn't necessarily our darkest days because we didn't lose any pregnancies or embryos, there will still some really hard, dark days. A lot of fear. A lot of doubt. A lot of worry. We've recently turned a pretty big corner, obviously. We've crossed over and we are certainly in our "for better" days right now. It is fantastic to walk through these days with my husband, not only because I love him, but because he has intimately known and faced the "for worse" days with me. He knows just how much better these good days actually are. For better is a whole not sweeter when you're seen for worse.

Although I feel like we're basking in the the sun's warm glows these days, I know that there will be dark days ahead. I'm not naive enough to think we've experienced the last of our for worse. There will be more hard days. We will get sick, we will experience financial stress, we will lose a loved one. It's inevitable… a part of any marriage. Even just in terms of family building, we will shed more tears. Of that, I am sure. If there's one thing the last few years has taught me, it's that we will survive. We've been through a lot and we're still here. For better or for worse… we've lived it all. 

Five years isn't really that long, but I think it's long enough to be proud of. I'm proud that five years later, I would still chose him. Despite all of it, everything we've been through, I'd still chose him, and I hope he'd say the same because life is simply better when we're together. I can honestly say, "I have found the one whom my soul loves" and I am looking forward to the next five years (and more) with him… for better or for worse.

Babe, when I said "I do" I had no idea what our future held, but I'd say it again today with just as much assurance as I did back then. It is my joy and privilege to walk through life with you. Happy Anniversary!

I Said No

The last five years have really taught me the value of a dollar. I mean, ever since my parents' divorce I've been slowly learning this lesson, but getting married and plunging head first into grad school will give you a crash course really quickly. Sam and I lived comfortably, but we regularly said no to fun things that first year of marriage. We would hear about a party with friends or a night out for dinner and a movie with another couple and we would say to one another, "I don't know how they do it!" We were makings ends meet... no ramen noodles on our menu, but we were certainly learning to cut corners and the easiest corners to cut for us have always been entertainment and eating out.

And then, after that first 18 months of marriage, infertility treatments smashed like a freight train right into our lives. It seemed like I couldn't possibly cut the budget anymore. But as time went on, I just simply learned to do without. I never ordered Mary Kay makeup again. When it ran out, I went to Target and bought the cheapest thing I could find. My shampoo was whatever was on sale, plus a coupon. I learned to color my own hair if I wanted a color change. Dinner and a movie changed to Redbox and a five dollar pizza from Little Caesar. Slowly, I began to become a person who says "no" to all "extras." I would say my only real splurge at this time is Starbucks coffee... I'm an espresso drink fan and I literally work 50 feet from Starbucks, but for the most part, I stick to whatever we agree to reload to the card each month. 

My husband is not a fan of the "no" me. There have been so many times that he's wanted to go play golf, or go bowling, or go to dinner. While I'm certainly not the decision maker in this family, I have a way of shining a light on the budget. "Oh, how great babe, I didn't know you found an extra $70 on the ground last week... how perfect for your golf game," It's really an art form. 70% of the time, I successfully guilt lovingly suggest that we should once again skip this activity. The 30% of the time I fail to convince him, I'm really awesome at providing the silent treatment or playing the guilt game over his failure to commit to whatever we're saving for. "I'm so glad you enjoyed your breakfast with friends, love! That's really awesome that you got waffles and hashbrowns, foods you can make for a buck fifty, while our IVF savings account sits about half full"... I wish I could say that those words never came out of my mouth, but they have, more times than I'd like to admit.

Truly, I feel guilty about spending money on things we don't "need." Dinner with my husband just doesn't fall in the necessary column. I've been struggling the last few years to recognize the value in doing things together. Or with friends. The concept of date night is 100% foreign to me at this point. We haven't been to a movie together in over a year, and before that maybe two or more. The last time we went out for a nice dinner was for our anniversary almost two years ago, and that was because we had a gift card which covered 100% of the meal.

While I definitely see the benefits of being thrifty, living below our means, choosing to make sacrifices, etc. I can also say that there are certain losses with that type of life. The loss of friendship opportunities is certainly there. Say no to manicures and karaoke nights enough and eventually your friends will give up on you. I've been fortunate to have FANTASTIC friends who never give up on me, and regularly extend the offer, but I imagine I'm pretty much the lamest friend ever. The answer is always no.

I can also see how the long term presence of "no" within the marriage begins to take effect too. Once upon a time, we thought of little ways to surprise each other... even if it was totally lame like "hey babe, I bought you 64 ounces of diet coke" (swoon). So much of that kind of "I thought of you, so I..." and "I love you, so lets..." has died. Now I'm sure part of that is because hello, we've been married for almost 5 years. The honeymoon is o-ver. But our financial struggles with infertility and now adoption have certainly only added to the problem. so many well-meaning people over the years have suggested that I use this time to "be married." What they mean by that is celebrate our marriage and the good things we have with date nights and vacations and special things. I've literally been told to let Sam "lavish" me multiple times. I've yet to laugh or fire back at that comment but really, things are so far from lavish around here. And that's okay. I'm not looking at my husband thinking why "why haven't you planned a secret getaway?" We live this way because I want to, because I want more for us than date nights and vacations.

I've been thinking lately how much of this attitude has simply become who I am. I don't even think, "well, I'd love to, but..." I don't check the accounts for margin. It takes me less than two seconds to answer because the answer is always no. I sometimes think that once we complete this adoption, I'll loosen up and live a little more. But the honest truth is, I probably won't. At least not willingly. I'll have diapers and formula and daycare to add to the budget. And I'll have those four embryos in Florida to worry about. I can think of 10,000 excuses to stay exactly as I am. But I also think about the child we're hoping to bring home, the one we've waited for for so long. And I wonder if this is the kind of mother I want to be. I'm not talking about blowing the budget, going into debt, that sort of thing... I know that's not the lifestyle I want to live. But do I want to be a mom who feels guilty about spending gas money to drive my kid to the park? I see moms who enroll their kids in swim class and music lessons and gymnastics and all that kind of stuff and I wonder, if we ever get there, to that point in life, will I recognize those expenses for what they are or will I just say no? Has the need to constantly save altered who I am down to my very core so that all if know how to do is say no? Will I ever learn to say yes again?

Another Year Gone

It's a little surreal, but today is our fourth anniversary! I swear it seems like it was just a few months ago that I was writing about our third anniversary! I guess it's really true what they say: the days are long, but the years are short. There have been some really, really long days this past year. Days that I'm content never to repeat. But last night, as I read back through the previous years' anniversary posts (here, here, and here), I was pleased to see how how much we've done, how far we've come, and how much we've learned. Last year I was looking ahead to our fourth year of marriage. On that day, I was excited about:

• Sam will accept an offer TODAY for his first job as a physical therapist.
• We will move OUT of my mom's house and IN to a house in Athens
• I will get a job (the odds are high within a year, right?)
• We WILL pay for IVF
• We might get pregnant
• And if we're really, really blessed, we might buy a house within the next year.

And don't you know, we actually did almost all of the above except buy a home, (and the obvious one) but as we had our home inspection this morning, we came very, very close to sneaking that one in too. And honestly, I'd forgotten it was even a goal until last night! 

There is certainly one GIANT thing missing that we were desperately hoping for out of year four: a bring home baby or a solid pregnancy. Obviously that didn't work out like we were hoping despite saving and paying for IVF. It's really easy to start grading the years based on the one thing we're missing. When it's the one thing you spend all your time and money on for an entire year, it really feels like a failed year when that one thing doesn't work out. But the truth is, we've had a good year. We both got jobs, we moved to Athens, we completed our goal and paid for IVF (and an FET) without debt, and we're hoping to buy a home soon. Sure, this year would have been just about perfect if the IUI, or IVF, or FET had worked, but they didn't… it doesn't change what we did do, what we did accomplish.

There seems to be a general theme the least few years as I've recapped the previous year… sadness and hope. Sadness for what has gone before and hope for what might come tomorrow. That pretty much sums up this year as well. Marriage is about for better or for worse. Our for worse is most certainly infertility… it's a repeat theme year after year. And I'm not sure when or if that will ever change, but I'm still so incredibly thankful that we have each other. The worse is significantly better than it could be when you're with the one you love and you can support each other.

So Happy Anniversary to my best friend! I feel abundantly blessed to call you my husband! I'm looking forward to year five and hoping for better and brighter days with you!

April 3, 2010: Courtesy of the*Reason

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

1 Corinthians 13:7

The Trifecta

I'm in search of The Trifecta. What is that, you ask? Oh well it's essentially my pursuit of happiness: a good job, a home, and a kid. I'm knocking on the door of 28.5 years and I'm still in search of The Trifecta. I know it's become the sad, sad, sad story of my generation that we're reaching milestones later, and later than we (or our parents) ever imagined. Sam and I appear to be particularly stunted... thanks infertility.

Suddenly it feels as if there is potential, potential to achieve The Trifecta. Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable. I won't get in to the employment thing because that just seems dumb to talk about on a public blog, but I'm EXCEPTIONALLY pleased to announce that the Greavus are house hunting! Eeekkkkk! I know, I know. Probably not that exciting, but to us, we're beyond pumped. The reason we're finally pulling the trigger on a house is probably a little premature and maybe the strangest reason ever to start the search. Essentially, if we decide adoption is our next step, we will have to move. No one, and I really mean that, absolutely no social worker would approve us for a home study in our current setup... we don't even have smoke detectors. When we started thinking about moving, we realized (once again) that rent is not cheap. We started crunching numbers and well, to get into a nice(r) place that will accept our 80 lb Weimeraner, our cat, and would pass a home inspection.... well it's not pretty. I exclaimed, "we could own a house for less than that!" And do you know what? We actually can!

Regardless of the decision to adopt, we would never feel comfortable bringing our child home to our current place, so moving is a must at some time. And now that we've started looking, we're both full three quarters steam ahead. We are trying to be EXTRA cautious with our choices. While we fully realize that the third part of our trifecta could come in the form of the two little embryos we transferred, we also realize that it might not. We could be years and thousands upon THOUSANDS of dollars away from a bring home baby. In order to save thousands, we need enough margin in our monthly budget. Which means the house of our dreams is not in the works, nor is the house we thought we'd buy when we got married... no this is the house of reality. The reality that says any child may cost $30,000+... literally. Dream homes are for later... much, much later. This will be a true "starter home"... and not like the starter homes my generation and those proceeding us thought were starters homes, no this will be a true starter home. But the cool thing is, we're still so excited about it. It probably won't even have five of our top ten wants, but it's still INCREDIBLE that we're even doing this.

As to the whole baby thing... I'd be lying if I said I hadn't thought of the potential we have right now. The potential for a positive pregnancy test on Friday and a bring home baby in 36 weeks. I've certainly thought of how ASTONISHINGLY different out lives would look if we weren't expecting to spend the next few years saving for a chance at a baby. I mean obviously, our lives would look waayyy different just because we have a baby... that in and of itself would be ridiculously different. But in terms of finances, things would radically change if we weren't up against IVF or adoption.

The potential for big things, for life altering change is definitely there... as to how significant the potential is, I have no idea. What are the odds we actually achieve ALL THREE?!?!? Probably slim... our lives simply do not seem to work that way. But two out of three? Still amazing. One out of three? I'd still be thrilled with ANY positive thing right now. Particularly if that one is a BABY... literally, I'll live in a hovel and work for minimum wage for a baby.

Speaking of baby... test day is Friday. I'm giving myself about a 5% chance of a positive beta which is low even for me. My doubts are at an all time high because I had period-ish cramps on and off all day Sunday, all day Monday and most of Tuesday. They are gone now, but I still don't think this bodes well. But one way or another, we'll find out on Friday.

And even if all three fall through, our anniversary is next week... I'm reminded that we are abundantly blessed to have four years of marriage behind us. We have a small trip planned to get away and relax together over a long weekend and I'm ridiculously excited! Other than Florida for IVF (which was too stressful and sad to even consider a vacation) this will be the first getaway since our last anniversary. We're ready.

Finding "The One"

How about we chat about something other than my uterus and the lack of habitation going on inside, shall we? It seems to me now that we're a week past Valentine's Day that we've arrived at a perfectly opportune time to talk about marriage. (You see it's opportune now, on a random Saturday in February to discuss because, well, because chatting about love and marriage should have zero to do with the date on the calendar... end rant.)

My church is finishing up my favorite series that Andy Stanley has ever done. If you haven't watched it, you should do yourself a favor and go watch all four sermons... they're that good. I first heard this series several years ago when Sam and I were engaged. I, like a lot of women (I like to think), was having a wee crisis of conscience. I knew that I loved this man I was betrothed to. I knew that he was absolutely, without a doubt my best friend. But I also knew that we both came from divorced families and that statistically the odds were even less in our favor than the average couple. And lets be honest, the odds of a happy ever after where you both grow old, and hold hands sippin' lemonade on the front porch are not that hot. It sucks, but they're just not. But our society and just about everyone who has been divorced will tell you that the reason for the divorce is that he/she was the "wrong one." So as my very own wedding approached I had this "how do I know if he's the one?" dilemma and I'm guessing I'm not the only one. In fact, thanks to this girl's very candid post about the moment she said I do, I know for a fact that I'm not the only one.

The Andy Stanley series, Staying in Love, allowed me to take a huge, deep sigh of relief. Strangely enough, it was the first time that I had heard a pastor discuss marriage and finding a spouse in terms of choosing someone and then deciding to make he/she "the one." All my life, I'd heard pastors, youth group leaders, Sunday school teachers, etc say that God would bring "the one," this perfect person that God created just for me into my life if I was just really, really patient. As we all know, patience is not my virtue. I naturally wondered how to know if I was actually ready or if I was hitching my wagon prematurely... was Mr. 100% perfect for me still out there?

Here's the thing: Sam is not perfect, and he's not perfect for me. I love him to pieces and I don't think he's the wrong one, but he's not perfect. And here's another thing: I'm not either. I'm not perfect and I'm not perfect for Sam. There are lots of areas in which we compliment each other: we like to laugh, we're both witty (one of us is a little more snarky, I'll let you guess who), we enjoy watching sports, binging on good TV, and we love to eat fabulous food. There are lots of reasons why I enjoy Sam and love him to death, but he's not a perfect man created just for me to compliment me exactly. I enjoy reading for hours... Sam doesn't read, ever, for anything. I can lie on the beach all day... Sam can last about 20 minutes before he gets antsy. I can easily save money for big things... Sam would rather spend his money on smaller, more frequent purchases. There are a lot of places that we bump heads... some are no big deal (you go swim in the ocean now, babe. I'll stay here.) and others are not so easy to tackle. I, like most girls, had my list of "criteria" that had to be met before I'd say I do… well guess what? Sam doesn't meet all of that. He got the tall and handsome part, but he's as white as they come… turns into a lobster at the beach. And there are things about Sam that I love, that I never knew to even put on the list. And I seriously doubt that if Sam had been the kind of guy to make a list, that I would have met all of his criteria (unless of course, it began and ended with: looks good in shorts). Regardless, my point is simply that we are not perfect for each other. But I'm still so thankful that I married him!

This notion of a perfect person, a soul mate, a partner specifically selected to match me exactly, kind of gets on my nerves.... and it gave me fits and anxiety attacks before I finally bit the bullet and said "you're the one." And sadly I think the church is just as guilty of perpetuating this myth as Hollywood. Movies and books and reality TV tell us that we'll know he/she is the one based on how we feel. But if those feelings go away... whoops! we chose poorly. Try, try again. We simply leave the "wrong one" in search of the "right one," or better yet, the "new 'the one'." Anyone who has been in a relationship long enough should be able to admit that this is bad logic... the feelings that come with the start of a relationship don't naturally continue. This is not Newton's First Law of Physics we're talking about... feelings of love, adoration, and butterflies in the stomach don't continue on without work. No, we're up against the Second Law of Thermodynamics, work is required to prevent the relationship from naturally moving towards chaos. I know, ultra bummer. How much nicer would it be if relationships required zero effort to continue and all the lovey-dovey feelings just multiplied exponentially? The truth is that when I said I do, I promised to make Sam my "one" and vice versa.

Unfortunately, this idea of waiting for Mr. Right is causing more and more women to wait later and later to get married (I don't think I need to explain the danger here, do I?). Now don't get me wrong, I get that some people simply don't want to get married, or don't find someone to marry until later in life. But statistics show a general trend of women (and men) waiting to marry later in life. And yes, I recognize that part of this is that additional schooling is now almost a requirement to survive in this society. But we have to admit that part of this change is simply a generational shift in how we view marriage. Now, if divorce rates were on a rapid decline, I might pause and question whether waiting later to marry might help, but unfortunately, Christian or non-Christian, young or old, divorce rates are awful. My point here is simply this: 22 or 28, 32 or 38, when you marry should have everything to do with feeling ready to commit to the partner for life. It shouldn't be delayed while you search for Mr. Right… he's not coming. Look at it this way: if you aren't married, and you're waiting for your person, your match made in heaven, would that someone look at you and call you perfect? If not, then I don't think it's fair to expect the man or woman you're looking for to be either. And if you are married, I'd challenge you to start thinking of your spouse as "the one," not because he/she is so perfect, not because she completes you, and not because he checks all the boxes, but rather because your wedding vows probably said something to the effect of "forsaking all others… till death do you part."

I don't for one minute feel like I've got this marriage thing all worked out. And I also don't believe I can judge why anyone would seek a divorce... believe me, I've had my reasons for endorsing divorce in the past, so if that's you, you'll find no judgment here. I know that marriage is not simply sunshine and roses, but I guess that's my point. Marriage isn't going to be perfect no matter who you marry. We are broken people with issues, baggage, learned behaviors, and all of that means conflict is inevitable. So my advice to anyone waiting to marry would be this: choose wisely for sure, but recognize that it's a choice, not manna from heaven. And no matter who you choose or when you choose, know that marriage takes work. For those of us who are married: my advice (to myself included) would be to be willingly to do the hard work required. Marriage can be beautiful and amazing... I'm so thankful for mine, not because it's perfect, but because I have a partner who is for me, and together we get to walk through life. There's really no greater gift. 

So Another Year, Huh?

The years just seem to melt away now. I mean, I can literally remember sitting with Sam on the couch in Augusta on New Year's Eve in 2010... it doesn't seem that long ago. And yet, in some ways, it was a lifetime ago. In a lot of ways, I feel like I've aged a decade since then.

2013 was actually a pretty good year for Sam and I... much better than 2011 (miscarriage) and 2012 (jobless and failed IUIs). In 2013, Sam graduated from MCG with his Doctorate in Physical Therapy. I can't even really comprehend how huge this was for our family. Graduation was the fulfillment of a fifteen year dream for Sam and a lot of hard work and dedication for both of us. We certainly wouldn't be where we are today if not for Sam.

We both got jobs in 2013 which allowed us to really get our finances under control. We paid off all of our debt (minus student loans). And once we were free from credit card debt, we tackled saving for IVF. Those were two huge accomplishments for us and I honestly can't even put into words how thankful I am for the Lord's provision this year. We have been insanely blessed and our sacrifices have led to abundant multiplication time and time again.

2013 brought greater friendships both through the blog and in real life. Sam and I have both felt so supported in our journey by our friends in our small group, through our church, our work... friendships have simply blossomed this past year.

For me personally, this past year brought a quiet peace in the midst of my infertility. The days of feeling an absolute desperation; a frantic need to do more, try more; a desire to hurry everything along just seemed to melt away. The Lord slowly and quietly worked in my heart until I've finally come to a place where I recognize that the Lord is in complete control. It's been a year of subtle changes on an emotional and spiritual level, and I am in a much better place because of them.

And of course, 2013 brought us here: to IVF in Jacksonville. It's still pretty surreal. Last night I was filling in my medication chart when I realized that I've already done 5 days of shots... if I stim for 10 days, I'm already half way there. It just doesn't seem like this could be it, that we could be here.

So 2013 has come to a close. Obviously for Sam and I, 2014 holds a lot of potential. We could be three to four weeks away from a positive pregnancy test. And if the Lord does bless us with a bring home baby from this IVF, we would actually deliver in 2014 too... that kind of blows my mind. So yeah, 2014 has a lot of potential. And not just in terms of building our family but for other things too like paying off more debt and saving for our first home. We are incredibly hopeful for the year ahead and praying that the Lord will continue to bless our little family.

Wishing all of you the best in 2014! May 2014 bring good news and greater blessings to us all!

The Weeds

I've been going through Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts Devotional for the last several weeks. It's not the meatiest devotional ever, but it's a good one for me... seeing gifts, finding grace, giving thanks... these are not the things that I excel at. It is good for me to be reminded to give thanks for what I do have rather than focusing on what I don't. One entry has particularly jumped out at me; maybe it is in light of Thanksgiving tomorrow, but I keep coming back to it. Essentially, the story she tells is about her daughter who picks a bouquet of burdock simply because of the purple color, not understanding that it is a weed not a flower. Ann is the master at extrapolating deep, insightful meaning from simple, everyday moments like this. She writes:

A plant isn't a flower but a weed only by function of its place. Transplant the weed to the heart and it blooms a flower...

Pretty interesting, right? Weeds and flowers... not that much difference between them, it is simply how I view them that makes me love one and disdain the other. Ann's prayer for the day was this:

Lord, all that I've deemed weeds in my life are only weeds by function of whether I want them in this place or not. Cause me today, to transplant all my weeds into wild wonder simply by thanking You for the grace of them in this place. 

This entry has left me thinking for several days now about giving thanks, particularly for the "weeds" in my life. There are lots of things that I am less than satisfied with in my life. For example: I don't love our home... it's small, dark, ugly, and in a less than desirable neighborhood. I could focus on that, or I could give thanks for the roof over my head to keep us dry in this miserable, icy drizzle. I could give thanks for the ridiculously low rent that has allowed us to get our finances in order. The house is a weed or a flower simply based on the way I choose to view it.

Obviously for me, the ultimate weed that comes to mind is infertility. I've said it before, but I have really struggled with seeing good, with finding value, with thinking there is a reason to give thanks for infertility. And I still feel that way to a certain extent. If given the choice between the way life has gone and the way I thought life would go, I'm pretty sure I'd go back and have that baby that slipped through my fingers at 25 years old. What could have been still seems better than what is. However, I've spent the last few days trying to view infertility in the same way I view our home. Yes, there are definitely things I'd change. Yes, there are definitely things I'd rather not have to deal with. But there are also things that I can honestly say that I am truly thankful for.

For one, I'm thankful for the motivation to get our finances in order. There is certainly a dichotomous aspect to this thanks as part of the reason our finances were in dismal despair was due to infertility, but I can admit that the real motivation for me to live on a budget, to save, to forgo gifts is the dream of a child. So I'm thankful that despite costing us a fortune, infertility has taught us a lot of lessons about living well below our means.

Secondly, I'm thankful for the testing of our marriage. Not a lot of couples can say that they've experienced a miscarriage and a life changing diagnosis within their fist two years of marriage. Even less can say that they've spent the last year and a half fighting together to beat the diagnosis, that they've worked hard for their dreams, and that they've fought for each other. There's no doubt that some days, I'd rather our biggest fight be about dishes and dirty clothes, but I feel like we've been tested by fire pretty early in our marriage. We're still here, and for that, I'm really, really thankful. I've seen what our marriage is worth to each of us. Infertility has given me confidence and a reason to believe in us.

Another thing I hope to one day be extra thankful for is the realization that children are a mighty, mighty blessing. This of course doesn't mean that I relinquish my right to whine about morning sickness, or 3am feedings, or bratty teenagers; no, I will definitely throw my hands up like any woman and utter a long, exasperated sigh. But my hope is that infertility will allow me to see the gift of relieved nerves that a little nausea can offer, or the extra snuggles with a baby at 3am because the baby will be a toddler in the blink of an eye, or that bratty teens are often just strong-willed children stretching and growing into adults. Essentially, I hope my struggles with infertility will make me a better mom. I hope I will see the not so great moments as a gift that might not have been.

And lastly, I'm abundantly thankful for the friendships I've made both in real life and through the blog. I can't imagine who I would be if I had not opened the door and shared my story. I'm so thankful that I am not alone, that I have been embraced by women who understand me, love me, and care for me. I am so thankful for the opportunity to cheer on my fellow infertile friends as they receive good news and bring home babies. I am thankful for a community that rises to the occasion when terrible things happen. I am so thankful to know that if and when my time comes, that there will be women who care, who will cheer me on, who will celebrate the life I've fought for. It's a beautiful thing to be amongst friends.

Infertility has been the ultimate weed in my life for the last two and half years. I've tried ripping it out of the ground, spraying it with weed killer... I've tried everything I can think of, and yet it persists. So I'm thinking it might be time to admit that this plant is a part of my life, and though I would not by any means ask for a bouquet of infertility, I'm beginning to see that some weeds flower, and for that, I can give thanks. Infertility, along with many things like houses, jobs, illness, etc, may be weeds only by the function of whether we want them in our lives. Maybe it is the act of offering thanks that changes the weeds into flowers.

The Promise

I read this blog post the other day, and while it's on an entirely different subject, one that I can't really relate to any longer, I think it speaks to a greater issue. The author was discussing just a small piece of a larger, complex problem. If you've never read her stuff, go exploring. She doesn't blog super regularly, but when she does, it's raw, it's emotional, it's inspiring, and it's always really clear that she loves Jesus. In this particular post, she writes about a common Christian pastime: promising to wait. She writes about being sixteen and signing her True Love Waits promise card and buying herself a promise ring. In case you aren't versed in this, essentially a promise ring (in this instance) is a sign of a promise to wait to have sex until you're married. Essentially a great principle, a wonderful promise, a beautiful gift to your spouse. But it often becomes something more.

The something more, she explains is the problem. The something more is the belief that waiting patiently, in doing as we're asked, somehow guarantees us our dreams. For her, it's a husband. She's waited patiently, kept her promise, and yet, she's still not married. She goes on to explain that she took off her promise ring at 25, not as an excuse to sleep around, but because she's not waiting any longer... what's she waiting on anyway? Essentially, her argument is that this idea that she and far too many girls were sold, leaves them waiting for a happy ever after instead of falling in love with the One who is already waiting on them. My favorite line is this: "A lot of girls were sold on a deal and not on a Savior".

Uh, yea. Whether married or not, I think many of us could say this very same thing. At some point, we bought into a deal. I know I'm guilty of this, guilty at different times in my life of believing that all I had to do was wait patiently for Jesus to swoop in and deliver on His promise. But what exactly is His promise?

There's one particular verse in the Bible that I've come to hate... err, no not hate, hate the way we humans use it and abuse it. The promise is beautiful, our bending of the words leads to a lot of heartache. Psalm 37:4 says, "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." Sounds promising, right? All we need to do is delight ourselves in Jesus and voila, insta husband, baby, house, money, etc... right? But it doesn't take too long of living in this broken world to see that believers don't have perfect lives. While I would love for my belief in Jesus to instantly give me an easy life and the promise that all my dreams will come true, it just doesn't work like that. But all too often other Christians, believers, Bible studies, churches, etc. sell us on a deal. A deal with our heavenly Father that says living a certain way, or promising adoration, or putting Him first will bring us fulfillment of our hopes and dreams.

Unfortunately, if we buy into the deal, we become more and more disillusioned with this God as life goes on. We've kept our part of the deal, but how long are we expected to wait? The blogger states it like this, "But many of them [the ladies in waiting]– if they’re honest – will tell you that time has passed, and it’s wrecking their view of God. If this is who God’s supposed to be, then He’s tragically late." All too often those left waiting are frustrated with this Jesus, and so they give up. They decide He's not coming through, they leave the church, they sacrifice morals, they move on. They decide, "if He doesn’t answer these prayers after they’ve held up their end of the bargain, why would He answer any others?"


I'm not waiting on a husband, but I bet you can see how I transpose this same message over my life... babies, yep, you guessed it. I'm waiting on my dream, waiting on my future family. And oh, there is nothing I hate more than when well intentioned believers tell me to trust in the Lord, because He will deliver what He promises. You know what, Jesus has never, ever, not once, promised me a baby. He hasn't promised me a long, happy life with Sam. He hasn't promised me earthly riches, or health, or any of it. Tomorrow is not promised to me. That verse, that verse that gets twisted and broken and changed, it says to "delight yourself in the Lord"... here's the thing, if I was truly, one hundred percent delighted in the Lord, wouldn't He be enough? Would I need a husband, a home, a baby? No, I'd just need Jesus. I'd trust him to provide what He will, to care for me until the end of my days, and to welcome me home when my time has come. Somewhere along the line, I bought into the belief that I deserve a baby, I mean everyone else has one. But really, I deserve death; it is by His grace that I have life at all. And yes, I still get stuck here, still get stuck with the "but everyone deserves death, and yet they still get a baby". Uh, huh, yep, I'm all too often that shallow. The truth is that she did get a baby (or four). And I got a husband. And someone else desperately wants one of those.

We as a people, as believers, as followers of Jesus are sharing the wrong message. We sell Jesus like he's a solution for life's problems and not life itself. But if we change our message, "things could be drastically different for a lot of girls [or guys] wondering why the God they think they learned to follow doesn’t compute. It doesn’t necessarily stop the desire for a husband [or a baby] or end all feelings of loneliness, but it does show a God who provides, loves and gives infinite purpose even to our singleness [or childlessness] rather than a God who categorically denies some who pray for husbands [or children] while seemingly giving freely to others". Aw-haa moment. Isn't that basically what drives us to question His goodness? Isn't it the uneven distribution of gifts that makes us wonder who is to blame? Is it us or is it Jesus? Are we less worthy than our friend? Or is He unfair?

We're asking the wrong questions because we bought into the wrong message. He hasn't broken his promise, He never promised us babies, or husbands, or riches, or even happiness; He promised us an abundant life and eternity with Him.

Muddled Mess

Yea, yea, I know. I come, leave you with insight, wit, drama, sadness and then disappear for a week. I am a self-professed terrible blogger. I've got about a zillion posts less than half completed floating around in my head, but none of them sound interesting/are worth typing/have an ending. You're already excited about this one, aren't you?

Essentially, I think my bad blogging habits of late are simply an extension of a larger problem: my brain is a muddled mess. And not the kind due to a lovely smooshing of mint and stuff, just a jumbled, disorganized, vapid wasteland where thoughts go to die. If you could Magic School Bus yourself inside my head right now, you'd find one long stream-of-consciousness style mess of stuff. And I don't even like stream-of-consciousness... Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury was my own personal kind of hell sent just to destroy my straight A college English record. But lately my thoughts look like this:

I need a vacation...I like cake...I wonder if mom will make me a cake this weekend...I should learn to bake...umm, no cake isn't low carb dummy...I love carbs...IVF is going to suck...we should just take out a loan...I want a baby...I love diet coke...diet coke is deadly...who cares...I need coffee...you're not supposed to drink coffee...who cares...I should brush Everest...I need a vacation...I should go back to school...Work is overrated...I want a baby...I'm tired...infertility sucks...I want to see Despicable Me...I can't wait for fall...eww, fall means birthdays...28 = too old...birthdays aren't fun anymore...birthdays are even less fun without presents...I just want a new pillow... pillows aren't in the budget...budgets make my head hurt...I need a vacation...vacations aren't in the budget either...I want a baby

You see what I mean? And I'm being honest, that was the tame, sort of coherent version where there are some logical leaps. Most of the time it's like this:

Fall:sunburn:cake:baby:vacation:sleep:read a book:remember to ___:I love Sam:clean the tub:

And that's in the space of like sixty seconds. So you'll forgive me (and silently rejoice) that I haven't been filling the blog and vast internet with my nonsense. If you noticed there are two reoccurring thoughts in that muddled mess: I want a baby and I want a vacation. Essentially, I'm tired of infertility: tired of writing about it, tired of thinking about it, tired of worrying about it, tired of spending money on it, and tired of all the sadness in my life because of it. But I still want a baby. Nice, huh? And essentially, although I've only been working full time for just over three months, I feel the tension and could really use a vacation. I'd love to just get away, chill on the beach, drink beverages that I shouldn't, and not care in the least whether they will affect my ability to have a baby. I feel the need to get away and spend some time with my husband, just the two of us. I don't want to think about school, work, babies, infertility, IVF, loans, debt, money, none of it. My fairytale world sounds pretty nice, right? I bet we could all use one of those.

Cue reality check: I just started working, so I don't have enough leave saved up for a vacation. And even if I did, I'm going to need all the paid time off I can get when the time comes for IVF. And the reality of the situation is that we are in debt and a baby is going to cost us money, so we have no business taking a vacation. So instead, I'll just sit here with my jumbled thoughts and hope that some direction and clarity comes soon.

The Days are Long

The days are long, but the years are short. 

My church just finished up an Andy Stanley series called Future Family. In part five, Andy and his wife, Sandra, discuss parenting. I obviously didn't love the series, nor did I get a ton out of this part. It was kind of a "I bet this is great stuff... Remember to buy this message one day if you're ever a parent."  But days after I heard it, this phrase kept coming to my mind. Sandra Stanley says this phrase in reference to parenting, particularly in the early years when it seems like discipline is the only thing you give. She encourages parents to keep a long term view: the days are long, but the years are really, really short.

Then I met with a really wise, beautiful, Godly woman and she said much the same thing, just with different words. She said someday this mess is going to be just a season of life... just a page in our story. It is only right now, in the midst of it, that it seems like this is our whole life. 

I think this is some really great advice for wherever you are in life, wherever you are in your journey: the days are long, but the years are short. Whether your days are filled with long hours at work to pay off debt, or long hours at the bedside of a sick relative, this message holds true for you as well. For us, right now, the decisions seem overwhelming, the finances seem insurmountable, the weight of infertility seems so very, very heavy. The days are long. Some days it is literally all I can do to crawl out of bed and face the day. Some days I count the hours until I can sleep again because I just need to turn my mind off. Even when there are strings of good, or even great days, it seems like our baby will never come. These days can be so long in the waiting. But I have to believe that the years are short, that this time is precious.

And if I truly embrace this idea, if I really lived like the years are short, like this time is worth living and living well, then I've got some life changes to make. It's more than just take time to smell the roses, it's take time to love my husband well, to celebrate the life we do have, to spend the money we earn on one another (gasp) rather than just fertility treatments. Living this looks like an occasional dinner out with friends... game nights at our place... a vacation (those exist?).

I feel like this could become my mantra. When I feel overwhelmed by the now, by the immediate need to make HUGE decisions, by the weight of our budget, I need to remember this:

The days are long, but the years are short.

What about you? Can you see the long term, big picture easily, or do you get caught up or bogged down in the now? What would it look like if you believed and lived like the current years are a short chapter in your life?

DINK

I'm not big on acronyms... at least not the made up kind to shorten a common phrase. I don't text in a conglomeration of letters that look like a foreign language. I blame it on my age. I missed the deadline for texting in gibberish. It probably has more to do with the fact that I pride myself on my ability to speak (and write) English correctly. Sure I know what LOL means; I'm not that bad. Speaking of LOL, I knew a lady who thought it meant Laugh On Line... I didn't explain that "online" is actually one word. But you know, bless her heart, it kind of makes sense; or at least it did before people started saying LOL. Face palm.

I've gotten off topic... Forgive me, it's a sensitive subject. All of this is to say that I'm the one who sees a conglomeration of letters and I don't even pause; if it doesn't mean Department of Labor or University of Georgia, I google it. I don't have the time nor the energy to decipher what SAHM means (Stay At Home Mom... because I googled it). So one day I was reading a blog when I came across DINK... what a terrible acronym. I googled it to discover that it means Double Income No Kids.

Well people, it's official Sam and I are a DINK family. Today marks the first day of double pay checks. I mean I guess it was official when he started his big fancy job two weeks ago, but today there is proof. Two pay checks will hit our bank account today. I'm not sure how I feel about this. I mean obviously two pay checks is lovely, and awesome and desperately needed. It's the rest of the phrase I'm not in love with.

I'm profoundly hit by musings and wonderings about how the other half (way more than half) live. Take for instance my morning: This morning a GIANT freaking tarantula was setting up camp in my kitchen. (no, I don't know that it was a tarantula, it was HUGE, and FURRY and that equals tarantula in my book) Sam was already out the door, so I felt I had no option but to save my precious kitty cat's life by killing the monster. I took off my shoe. It was bigger than my shoe. A mental image of missing the spider and it leaping on to my hand drove me to find Sam's shoe. I live with Big Foot, so I knew that his shoe should offer more protection. I counted to three and whacked it. And it EXPLODED! Oh my FREAKING GOSH a BILLION baby tarantulas started crawling, scurrying, jumping, skittering EVERYWHERE! WORST NIGHTMARE EVER! Now before all of you Tree Huggers and One With Nature-ers tell me that it's what I deserve for killing a harmless spider... cool your jets. I went to an elementary school where we sang about Mother Earth, we celebrated Earth Day like it was Christmas, and our mascot was the Earth Force. I was brainwashed as a child to think littering deserves capital punishment, along with the killing of any animal. We've all got to coexist you know? 99% of that settled into my soul. The 1% that did not stick is the don't kill bugs... wasps, hornets, yellow jackets, cockroaches, and SPIDERS that are IN MY HOUSE deserve to D-I-E. I save worms on the sidewalk, so give me a break, okay?

But in my fairytale, rose colored glasses, I assume that the other half, all ye with a baby on the hip and a toddler in the pack n' play NEVER have bugs. Kids repel bugs, right? Your life is so awesome. Allison, you don't count: you (apparently) live in the Cockroach Capital of the World.

Also, did you read Jennifer Hatmaker's blog? Her summer sounds AMAZING! She packs more into one summer with her kids than I have done in my whole twenty-seven years. She does mystery Thursday's... they camp on trampolines... they go fishing! Summer is so... yawn when you're a double income family with no kids (unless of course you're a teacher... you're a separate breed). I mean sure you might schedule a vacation to the beach, you might have a pool to chill in on the weekends, but there's no constant, everyday is a new day, excitement for Summer. It's work, just like the other three seasons except it's hotter. Lame.

In my fairytale world, Summer is full of the best days of your life. Kids are never bored. You go to Disney World EVERY YEAR. The pool is always crystal clear and sparkling and the perfect temperature. Life is beautiful.

So today, I celebrate that two pay checks hit the bank. Don't get too excited... all of those dollars have a home already and none of them are called Vacation or even Date Night. But still, it's a VERY GOOD thing. But I also mourn that a terrible acronym now describes us... but maybe not forever!

The Other Half of this Equation

There is another half to this baby making equation: my husband Sam. He, like so many men, has quietly and stoically supported me through this infertility journey. I'll be honest, I often forget he's along for the ride.

When we initially started trying, I drug him to baby stores, asked him endless questions about names, and generally drove him bonkers with my what if scenarios (what if we have four girls in a row, do we try for a boy or adopt a boy? OR what if it's twins? OR what if he/she is born on Christmas? when will we celebrate birthdays?). Then when we started treatment, I plagued him with a million possibilities. I read research to him every night. I was relentless in my thirst for information and I assumed he would be the same. When he finally told me he was sick of all of the baby talk, I shut up about it. The conscious decision to watch my words around him and my unconscious decision to stop planning for what we may never have has led us to a place where we honestly don't talk about pregnancy, babies, etc all that much. If he tells me someone is pregnant, I give the ol' shoot myself in the head sign and we move on. There doesn't seem to be a lot of purpose in rehashing what has already been said. I can't find a valid reason to tell him how sad or frustrated or angry or worried I am about our situation… nothing has changed, it's been said before. It's become an understood: I'm sad we can't have a baby. I want a baby. We're going to save money for a baby.

Since I don't talk about it all that much, and choose to internalize or let it out via this little blog, I often forget that he might be dealing with a lot too. I don't know about any of you, but my husband it the epitome of the emotionless reserved man. I've seen him excited like twice ever, and you'd have to be looking for it to see it. I hope to goodness that this long, long, long process towards a child will increase his excitement just a smidge, but honestly, I don't count on it. Sam doesn't share his feelings. He doesn't get mad, or frustrated, or sad… he just is. In fact, if he ever does share that something/someone made him mad, my initial reaction is shock. It's easy to assume that because I don't see the emotion, he doesn't have any, but I know that's not true. We're just different.

Sam shared this article with me the other night. It's a great article about what a husband goes through during infertility. I think all too often, our culture assumes the woman is the primary one affected, because she is the one taking pills, receiving shots, etc. Even when the infertility is 100% male related, even in the most severe cases, it is almost always the woman who will  be the one to take the medications, grow the follicles, undergo IVF, bruise from so many blood draws, and spend countless hours at the doctor. The man shows up for his one assigned appointment, does his bit, and it's over. So everyone assumes he's not as acutely invested in the process. I'm guilty of this myself. I figure if you don't talk about it, cry about it, research what to do about it, etc then it must not be too high on your priority list. But maybe that's not the case. He did find the article. He did pass it along. Maybe my husband, maybe all of the husband's are more aware and affected by what's going on than they appear.

If you read the article, you'll see that they make the argument that many husband's are blindsided by the issue of infertility. Women at least hear about infertility, they know of someone's someone who had to do X to conceive, but guys don't generally talk about that. So when it comes time for a doctor to lay it all out there, it's a shock, it's unbelievable, it's impossible, it's demeaning, it's humiliating, it's JUST TOO MUCH! Even if the infertility problem relies 100% with the woman, the man often feels a sense of failure. He can't impregnate his wife. He's subjected to jokes like, "are you sure you know what you're doing?". It's simply a situation that can knock the legs out  from under them... it's a low blow directly to his manliness.

I'll be honest and say that I don't have a great solution here. I guess every guy is different, and you've got to do what works for your husband. The only solution in my head currently to fix what might be ailing my sweet husband is to get pregnant so he can forget about it all (for a time).

What do you do when your husband is down and out? How do you handle his disappointment?

Something to Celebrate

Tomorrow, my baby should turn one. We should be celebrating this weekend with a big ol' party. We should be having fun photo shoots where she smashes the cake and smears icing all over her pudgy little body. We should be attending Sam's graduation this week as a family of three. Instead, I'm left to mourn what might have been. I wish so badly that my baby had stuck around. I wish my body didn't suck. I wish that whatever went wrong in those early moments of life didn't go wrong. I wish I could have loved her and held her for a year.

Tomorrow's going to suck. Heck, let's be honest, there have been quite a few sucky days in the last two years. The start of May also signals another year of trying. Yep, in case you missed it, it's official: we have been actively trying for 2 years. Blughhh. It just sucks.

However, I'm doing my very, very best to find happiness in this current stage of life. In light of that, I'm going to find something else to celebrate. Tomorrow marks NINE YEARS since my husband first thought I was attractive. Actually, in his words, he thought, "my legs were hot". Oh, to have my 120 pound, 18 year old body back. But that's actually a really dumb anniversary, so let's go with this:

Today marks NINE YEARS since I met my husband*

What was I doing nine years ago? I'm glad you asked. I was going to my senior prom… with someone other than my husband. It's far too long and sordid of a history to share, but essentially, we met at my high school's prom in 2004. I went with my boyfriend of two and a half years, and Sam went with a friend from my high school. He attended a different rival high school at the other end of the county. We went in a very large group, so I didn't really pay too much attention to him. Plus, it was my last high school dance and I was super in love. I had no time for other boys. 

However, after we started dating I learned that although my eyes weren't wandering, his had fully looked and decided that they liked what they saw. Our group divided up that evening (guys/girls) for sleepovers, but we reconvened the next morning at breakfast. I didn't remember what I wore two years later when he told this story, but he did. Most important were some navy shorts that apparently did wonders for my legs. Hooked him!

The truth is that we went our separate ways that day and I didn't think of him again for quite some time. It would be almost a year later before we really even became good friends, but eventually I saw him as more than a friend and the timing was right for both of us. We never looked back.

So instead of thinking about all that I've lost tomorrow, I'm going to think about all that my long, skinny legs and some navy shorts got me nine years ago. In honor of nine years, or one third of our lives, I thought we'd take a little walk down memory lane with some fun photos. Enjoy!

February 2006: After the Georgia vs Vanderbilt game

July 2006: Vacation with Sam's family to Kentucky.
Yes, we know the little cutie in the swing, we aren't playground creepers.

August 2006: Moving Sam into his first off campus apartment at UGA

October 2006: UGA vs Tennessee
(sorry for the belly exposure)

August 2007: Waiting on the annual fireworks at the Starlight Concert

March 2008: Heading to a date night at Chops in Atlanta

July 2008: Fourth of July waiting on the fireworks

October 2008: Fall break stop in Savannah on our way to Georgia/Florida

December 2008: Christmas morning with my mom's family

June 2009: Night out with friends at Chow Baby

May 2009: My Exhibition Show for graduating from
UGA's Lamar Dodd School of Art in Graphic Design

May 2009: Graduation Party for me
(That's Soo Ming with us, not Everest)

May 2009: I finally graduated!
We can walk through the UGA Arches together!

May 2009: We're ENGAGED!!!
(sorry for the awful make-up, I sobbed)

June 2009: Annual Starlight Concert
(the real us, I use him as a foot rest all the time)

August 2009: Engagement Party

November 2009: Engagement photos courtesy of the*Reason

November 2009: Engagement photos at Montaluce Vineyards

December 2009: Waiting on Christmas breakfast with the family

January 2010: Sam and I with the wedding party tasting
(and scoring) cheesecakes for the wedding at the Cheesecake Factory

April 2010: Wedding Day! First dance at reception

April 2010: Good morning newlyweds! You're looking mighty fine!
Free first class upgrade on our way to Denver.

April 2010: Honeymoon in Breckenridge, Colorado
First night it snowed!

October 2010: Georgia vs Vanderbilt

November 2010: Thanksgiving Dinner

December 2010: Yep, that's right. White Christmases are possible in Georgia too!

April 2011: First Anniversary. Carnival Cruise to Western Caribbean

April 2011: First Anniversary. Excursion day at Grand Cayman.

August 2011: Canoeing the Kentucky River

September 2011: UGA vs Coastal Carolina

October 2011: Family photos down at the Canal in Augusta

April 2012: Second Anniversary trip to Atlanta.
Headed out to eat at Nava in Atlanta.

April 2012:  Our second Anniversary
Dinner at The Atlanta Fish Market

June 2012: Photo fun with the Fenton's

October 2012: Camping Trip to North Carolina

December 2012: Wedding for two of Sam's classmates

April 2013: Anniversary dinner at Ruth's Chris

I'm lucky to have found you Sam. Thanks for loving me and marrying me. And thank you for giving me something else to celebrate today... Yep, ladies and gentlemen, Sam passed his board exams!!! He's one small diploma away from being a licensed Physical Therapist!

 *Fun fact. After we started dating, I learned that we, in fact, met prior to the prom. We met in preschool. Sam and I were in the same preschool class way back when. Here's proof:

Sam is the cutie on the left. I'm the one rocking the side-pony and the frown.