Thoughts and an Update

There is a beautiful song playing a lot on the radio station I listen to in the car. It is 'Oceans' by Hillsong United and the bit that really gets me (and probably most, since it is the chorus) goes:

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders

Let me walk upon the waters

Wherever You would call me

Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander

And my faith will be made stronger

In the presence of my Savior

I love it but it really is a scary song in some ways... because do you really want to be taken deeper and to have to trust without borders? Of course, as Christians we say we do but the reality of the experience is hard. So hard.

There is a blog post doing the rounds that challenges the popular line, "God won't give you more than you can handle" which one might say to another as they are experiencing hard stuff (amongst other things the author and his wife have gone through an ectopic pregnancy). I have wondered about how biblical that concept is, and on the whole causes me to think about how we respond to others who are facing a difficult time.

Since I'm sharing about other blogs... A friend shared this blog post to do with loss/grieving and miscarriage- and a new book that's out about the topic. It talks about going to church after miscarriage and what it was like being in the service. Something about the power of music causing our emotions to be moved. Nice to know that I'm not the only one who sometimes sobs through the whole worship-time - definitely awkward, and worse if you didn't bring tissues.

On a related note... One way to wade our way through rocky times in life is to share them with others, as a way to help them feel less alone. My mother-in-law shared a devotional with me about the power of sharing your (imperfect) life with others (the author has also been through miscarriage as well as seeing another child saved).

It was encouraging as sometimes I feel a bit lost or unsure in knowing how to support others on their journey, especially since setting up a prayer network with other couples at our church to do with infertility and baby loss/miscarriage. Different people process differently and I don't always know what the best way is to connect with them. However I do love this verse

He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. 

When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.

2 Corinthians 1:4

and often cling to it, praying that I am able to comfort others, where possible, even if I'm not always sure how!

Okay so aside from what other people are writing, what's going on?!

It has been a while since I last wrote. (I'm really sucking at this blogging thing, aren't I!) Because my pregnancy in April was a partial molar pregnancy, I've had to be in a process of waiting and being blood-tested. This will last until January.

January. That is longer than I would have been pregnant! From an infertility point of view, it is agony. Thankfully I got over that eventually and it has been mentally relaxing not having to think about 'trying'. I'm also in the clear which is fantastic. 

We've made it to November which is when the baby would've been due.To be honest I kind of forgot about it with life being full, but this past week there have been some reminders of my baby, with a friend having delivered her second child, and another friend getting pregnant, also with her second. Both have been good things I expected but have made my heart a little heavy. 

I got to go for a walk alone (score!) in the park on Monday, and it was so nice to breathe deeply. I sat amongst shady trees on a warm (summer is here!) morning and soaked it God's wonderful creation. I let myself imagine what my baby might have looked like if I got to meet her this month, and what sweet newborn features she might have.

  (my instagram shot of that morning)

I'm not actually great at that sort of thing, imagining details, so I didn't get very far, but it was just nice to do that, to acknowledge that my baby was real,  and to let God comfort me through the simplicity of sitting in His grass and trees. 

This time we've had to wait has given me precious time to enjoy Toby. He's almost two and a half years old and I've loved being able to give him a lot of my attention and energy. It has been amazing to watch him soak up knowledge, have conversations, give accounts of experiences and just have fun. (I also love this post, by the way, about having small children if you feel like yet another link ha... and they had them after years of infertility.)

We have also continued our trek into the adoption process. After the last miscarriage, we went through a process of being unsure but we have still felt very strongly the desire to adopt, so also in this waiting time, we have managed to gain approval to be adoptive parents (massive yay!). It feels like God has been guiding us in this area and we feel blessed to have gotten this far.

The thought of having a second whether biologically or through adoption is, in truth, terrifying especially as time goes on, and we become so used to being a family of three. I especially feel for Toby as he has asked about whether I have babies in my tummy and gets a real buzz out of me saying that he is my baby. What a shock he's going to have if one day we do get to have another!

In the meantime we still hope to and are doing okay waiting. It is definitely different now that we have Toby and we are very thankful for what we have. Christmas is round the corner so the next couple months will pass by quickly. I try not to think about 'age-gaps' and all of that, and I know God will continue to provide the best thing for us.

How is everyone?

 (happy movember!)

Being Brave

This is what I posted on Facebook the other day. 

I'm not usually that vulnerable on Facebook and I was nervous doing it! But two special friends have gone through losses recently and that night I found out a third friend just had too, so it was just really heavy on my heart, as I sensed they were surprised by the sadness, etc. 

Anyway. Here it is:

On Tuesday I decided to buy flowers. What is it about flowers... A beautiful reminder of God's creation maybe.

3 years ago this week we said goodbye to a baby we got to carry for 12 weeks of pregnancy. My precious friend took me to the hospital and later that day I followed J out to the car park with no baby- as if we were just visitors. I remember the lonely corridors. How empty. Hollow. 

Mayb

e this was all right. I looked normal; I could walk. But my heart broke into a million pieces when I got home and emptied the hospital's brown paper bag of my dirty clothes, and I realised I had nothing. Nothing left of my baby. Invisible.

Gutted.

Yes I have J. And today I have Toby and God has continued to bless us with good things that we celebrate. It is not about not being thankful.

That little life was treasured. We never stop wondering what Baby N would've looked like or felt like. The baby was real.

This is a bit of a step out for me. But my thoughts are going out to the other women or couples who have been here too. And are here today. I know it is 'common' but it doesn't make it easier.

You did not get to meet tiny bud, but your loss is real. Grief is ugly.Your heart is indescribably heavy right now. No one wants to talk about it but many try to say nice things. And some want you to move on. But be mournful if you need to and for a time there really is nothing that needs to be said.

I believe that one day there will be answers to our questions and joyous reunions... and I am praying that God comforts you with his great arms of love and you find healing in his saving grace. Please know in those moments of deep sadness, you are not alone.

Miscarriage Link

Here's a post about dealing with miscarriage that my friend Steph shared. There are no rules for how to go through it, but is helpful to hear how different people deal with it... some things I connect with in here too... 
The Baby I Never Knew

From others...

Here are a couple links...

- Divided, by Heather

This post is a very personal one to Heather, who has gone through an agonizing time of waiting and also a recent loss.

This post also leapt out at me because a good friend and I have been talking about how for her, miscarriage marked an unexpected change in her perspective, like her life became sort of split into two timelines, before and after. It is like the world changed colour.

- The Question that Breaks My Heart, by Rachel

This one probably many of us dealing with or who have dealt with IF can connect with. I appreciate how many of these women bring the perspective back to Christ, hard hard hard as it may be. It is a good reminder for me...

Ten things at Twelvish

(wrong time. oh well.)

1. Thankful for pancakes this morning (after dreaming about them haha). YUM.

2. Thankful for a Saturday morning to chill and catch up with thoughts and things (laundry haha).

3. Thankful for some time I spent yesterday with two special friends who'd gone through miscarriages recently. It was good to catch up with them and just comforting to be able to talk about our 'children we've never met' openly and without reserve or feeling bad/weird. Glad we finally got to hang out!

4. Thankful for the Christchurch Earthquake Memorial Service that I watched this morning online cos' I missed it yesterday. It was hard to watch of course, but also a bittersweet reminder of God's power and strength in times of great need.

5. Thankful for God's supernatural comfort in times of deep sadness and grieving. Some dear friends have had to say goodbye to their dear tiny daughter, Eden Grace, who was 17 days old. She was born at 26 weeks of pregnancy. Her life was a miracle in itself, but it is so hard too... and I'm praying for her parents and brother as they cope with their loss. I cannot imagine how hard this is for them.

6. Thankful for the power of music that touches us even if we come from different perspectives and backgrounds. They sang a few beautiful songs at the Christchurch Memorial Service- like Amazing Grace and Welcome Home.

7. Thankful that my sis-in-law, K, was unhurt in a car accident this past week, where her SUV was turned on its side! Also cool that the kids were at home with my brother. Praying for them as this stuff is still always scary and can be stressful.

8. Thankful for soft-serve. Ya, serious.

(not my pic)

Haha yes. I love them. Plus, I don't know why it took me so long to catch on that the vanilla soft-serve cones at McDonald's are only 60-cents! Is there anything else that cheap around here?

I usually get the hot fudge/chocolate sundaes in a cup that cost way more. So I think I'll switch over to the cones... plus they probably are 'less bad' haha... NOW if only they had the half-chocolate and half-vanialla twist ones here... ahhhhh that'd be heaven. You know those? They don't have them here in NZ...

( AND Do you know? I used to have the Fisher-Price McDonald's Kitchen set, like this, yes they whole big thing with the drive through window and kitchen. The soft-serve machine was my favourite part!!!)

9. Thankful that we have made it to 24 weeks and 5 days of pregnancy.

It is fascinating and awesome to think that if I had the baby now (of course not ideal but just saying...) he would have a chance at surviving outside the womb. It would be registered as a birth in some countries, not sure about here. Just quite a thought! Praising God for this life.

10. Thankful for my mother who continues to feed me. She's been bringing me pots of food so that I don't have to cook that much. They last the husband and I a few meals a week.

It is a massive blessing because I've been so tired and some evenings I work, so it makes it very convenient. However, I hope she isn't using up all her cooking stamina because I'll need it more when baby comes!

Had a lunch break between writing point 8. and points 9.-10. so now it is like almost two! haha. Have a good day out there.

Christmas Day

Merry Christmas everyone!

(nativity set from my in-laws. first christmas that i get to display them! fun times.)

How are you doing?

I know today is a day of celebrating and enjoying time with friends and family. For us we pretty much received our gift and Christmas miracle early- our pregnancy. (um... Read previous post if you missed that.) Who knew? I still can't help but say it all seems so crazy. However I have also been thinking of those in the midst of a heart-breaking time.

I have two special friends who have gone through miscarriages this week. Each of them are very dear to me and it is heart-breaking to know they are grieving for their little child, especially right in this season of what should be joy and hope. Even though I can relate, I want so much to comfort them but words still escape me.

I also acknowledge a friend who misses her mother who has passed, and another friend who is going through a marriage separation.

These are all paths they also never imagined they'd be on. At times like Christmas, as much as it is a wonderful time, I'm sure you IF-ers know too, the realities of life can be so hard to avoid- yet another Christmas tree with no presents under it to buy for the child you imagine you'd have by now.

'I'm praying for you' is what I say, but it can seem so empty or overused when the depth of the pain appears so bottomless...

Oh Lord I continue to be thankful and overwhelmed by the infinite nature of your grace and mercy. The birth of Christ signifies the hope and life you bring. Yet I'm sure You also knew the double-edged-ness on the day of His birth, as it would mean His death and sacrifice for all of ours. (I think there is a song about this or maybe many songs but I can't remember it right now.)

You probably also had great joy and great sorrow as Jesus was welcomed to this broken world- knowing what was to come. I pray for comfort for these dear friends Lord. It can only come from You. All the words and gifts we may bring are useless and ultimately empty without You involved.

There are also so many questions we bring Lord. Could you have made it less painful? Better timing? Saved it for when we were prepared? How long more?

Anyway. We bring you these messed-up things and we know there is no other way but to let you handle them.

I know. Sorta heavy. But that's just what's on my mind. Hmmm...

It is actually already the end of Christmas day here. I had a lovely day (pancakes, presents, Skype, family, friends, etc. ) with special family here and I hope the same has been/will be for you too.

(this is what my living room is looking like...)

Goodnight!

One Year On

Today is the anniversary of when we lost Baby N. Yesterday I bought flowers to make it a bit more special but sadly when I brought them home, they were more floppy than I'd realised. (Darn those sneaky supermarket-sleeve-flowers and my lousy judgement haha... Oh well. )

How quickly a year has gone by. A year since the husband flew back from the States in a rush to be with me. A year since being at the hospital with my dear friend C who took care of everything while I panicked in pain. Thank you God for how you worked everything out somehow.

The grief has definitely subsided. Something you never feel is going to happen when you are in the midst of it and can hardly see past the hour. Though there is still a deep longing to know what Baby N looks like and what life would have been (as with all the babies we long to meet)... Life is interesting huh.

It is curious thinking about what I remember of the day I found out the pregnancy definitely wasn't progressing (the scan, going for something as normal as a meal after as there was nothing we could do and it was something to do aside from crying), the next day (arranging a D & C as by then I'd been bleeding for a while) and then that night/the following day when it all happened naturally and so quickly yet kinda also in slow-motion.

So many difficult memories, yet it was a deep and impactful time too, it especially impacted my relationships (with my mother who was there at the last scans, with my friend C who coached me through contractions that I for some reason didn't expect, and my husband who sped from airport to hospital in crazy shock).

One thing that the miscarriages have made me think about a lot is heaven. What is heaven like? I'm still figuring it out. A topic I never really had to think too much about in terms of specifics. It also has made me really want to go there, not in a scary way but just in a it-will-be-so-awesome-when-we-get-there kind of way.

Even this year has continued to be a bit of a confusing year, but we can definitely see how God has been taking such good care of us. The fact that we have simply survived a year is a good thing! To be honest I'm not sure where the year has gone. It feels like it sorta just disappeared, all I know is I'm tired but here I am... haha.

So. We're really not sure what the future holds but it surely is going to be 'good' because it is in God's hands. He is a faithful God. Oh how I need to remember that on the trickier days!

(we decided to buy bears to for each of our children, to remember them by even if there is little to hang on to. here are just three of them... two have their nickname-initialed on their foot!)

How Great Is Our God... at showing up in unexpected ways

Last week we watched a Louie Giglio (guy who founded Passion Conferences, etc.) DVD at our church small group called 'How Great Is Our God'... if you want to watch it too, I think this is it here.

He goes through some super mind-blowing stuff about astronomy, genetics and biology, etc... nothing I will be able to paraphrase well so go watch/listen to it yourself if you want to.

What got me though was this bit he got to about conception and babies. Yes. When he started on it I was like, OH NO.

I can't do this... please don't linger on this topic. I know a baby is a miracle I know that. I don't need you to tell me more about how awesome it is because I might just start bawling in the middle of this room and it might just be a tad awkward. Yes I have great friends here, but their husbands may not know what to do and I really don't need to stop everyone in mid-bite of chocolate-chip cookie, etc...

Then it got to about 22:40 into this message and I really was squirming on the inside... but I felt God's gentle nudge.

Mr Giglio showed a picture of a 3-day old embryo or 16-cell embryo. It really got my attention. It was beautiful! It was so intentional and so 'wonderfully-made' even at that stage.

Even though I'd seen pictures like this before, maybe because of being exposed to the world of infertility and IVF, this one really struck me. I think it is cos' I've been asking all these questions on how to understand the beginning of life, and how do I think about these little baby buds of life that I have lost through miscarriage?

I think it just seemed like God was reminding me that all creation IS HIS...

It all belongs to Him- whatever age, whatever stage of life, etc.

Louie also went on to read from Psalm 33 where verse 15 says, "He who forms the hearts of all..."

Can I tell you how crazy meaningful that verse is to me? Definitely was trying not to show too much reaction or break down at this point and keep eating the buttered slice of date loaf I was using as a decoy.

You see...

Last October when we were expecting Baby N (yes I'm going to use that word 'expecting' even though it is hard...) I read and re-read that verse all the time because Baby N had a good heartbeat and that was what we had to hold on to for hope.

Yes. One year ago I was pregnant and for me there are reminders of this everywhere. Where do I hide?

But I think God just reminded me that He is taking care of it all.

Taking care of EVERYTHING, including questions and emotions my puny brain and heart is struggling to keep from spilling over... and taking care of those little lives I miss and don't know how to think about... taking care of the infertility and adoption issues...

O Lord thank you for meeting me in the unexpected places...

She Said It Better - Some Stuff On Loss...

I noticed while looking around online the other day that October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day in the US! What interesting timing, as this topic had just been particularly on my mind too...

Today's post looks a bit long but I'm sharing couple links and a thing that I copy-pasted... If you skip the links, do read the copy-paste bit below, as I found it pretty powerful.

I'm thinking a lot around the idea of life in the womb... I have found it so difficult to get my head around it. Like I do believe life starts at conception, but when it is your own and when you miscarry at an early stage, like five weeks, it is just hard to know what to think of it or how to feel... because it seemed so unreal.

Anyway, there were a couple of good posts that came up on (in)courage again that made me confront this issue a bit more. They are not actually about miscarriage, so not directly related, but at the core of it these women would've had to sort out their thoughts too.

• She Made Me a Mommy With Hope, by Teske Drake- She carried on with her pregnancy knowing the baby was not going to do well...
• Face to Face, by Heather Gemmen Wilson- She had one of her children as a result of rape... and has faced judgement from others...

Both women have gone on to impact others as a result of their experience and it is fascinating to see what God has done with it.

If you have gone through miscarriage and pregnancy/baby loss (or are friends with someone who is) I hope the following is encouraging to you too. I know it may be really hard to read but it spoke to me deeply and maybe it will to you too.

This is from a 'Double Daily Portion' email that I get from Sarah's Laughter (a resourcing ministry for infertility/loss). The writer/founder, Beth Forbus, is gifted at writing from a biblical and empathetic perspective. I have found it hard but soothing to read. This was sent out specifically for this week to acknowledge October 15th.

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Why does it hurt so badly to lose a baby? Even one only a few weeks post-conception? The answer, my friend, is actually pretty simple. That tiny, little baby—even if he or she was no more than a few cells—was created in the very image and likeness of God Almighty! Oh, the preciousness of this tiny little creature! For a short time, your mortal frame, or that of your spouse, housed the very image and likeness of God Himself.

We can only imagine what God looks like. We are told in Scripture that if we were able to look at Him with human eyes that we simply could not take it and we’d fall dead (Exodus 33:20). However, He found a way to give us a glimpse of Himself. He created us in His image and in His likeness. Not exactly like him. He may not have green eyes and brown hair like me, but I’ve been created in His image and His likeness. Your baby was too, and this makes your baby precious. Oh, the unfathomable worth of the child who has God’s fingerprints all over them!

God even says “Before I formed you in your mother’s womb, I knew you”. He doesn’t saunter into a delivery room and look as a newborn takes its first breath and say “Thanks, doc. I’ll take it from here!” Birth is not a prerequisite for God’s protection, God’s love or God’s involvement in your baby’s life. Before your baby was conceived in your body, he or she was already conceived in the heart and mind of God. Before you loved your child, God loved your baby. Before you prepared your nursery, God had already prepared a place. Before you knew you’d lay down your life to save your baby, God laid down His life to save his or her soul. God never planned on waiting until your baby was born to know and love your baby.

God still loves you. Even though He has allowed you to walk through the devastation of miscarriage. He offers you His comfort and His healing. You can pour out your heart to God and He’ll understand. When friends, family, and even your spouse can’t bear to see your tears anymore, God has incredibly broad shoulders for you to cry on and strong arms for you to fall into. Lay your head on His chest and hear His heart beating. A heart that broke just like yours has.

As you find comfort in the bosom of Love Himself, don’t forget to look into His eyes and see the promise of a heavenly and eternal reunion with your child. One that will not end in miscarriage. No SIDS allowed inside the gates of pearl! No stilled heartbeats. No blighted ovums. No spontaneous abortions. No grief. No sadness. Just an eternity with the child you’ve held in your heart so much longer than in your body! And an eternity with a God who loved you enough to orchestrate the death of His only Son to provide a way to reunite you with your child.

There is no doubt that Heaven will be an incredible place that defies the description of man. Never in our wildest imagination could we begin to come close to imagining what God has in store for those who love Him and have received His gift of salvation. Psalm 127 tells us that children are a gift and a reward. If you are a Christian, your gift is unopened, waiting for your arrival in Heaven. What joy your heavenly reunion with your child will bring! Perhaps the only place you ever saw your baby was on a positive pregnancy test or on a stilled sonogram screen.

Child of God, you will see your baby one day! You’ll see the expressions on their face, smell their fragrance, and hear that precious voice in the place that God has prepared. Was a hospital room the only place you were ever able to hold your stilled child in your arms? One day, because of the sacrifice of Calvary you’ll explore together all that Heaven has to offer. For the child of God these are great and precious promises.

Not only are you assured an eternity with the baby you have loved and lost, but even more importantly, you will be with the God who loved you enough to sacrifice His baby to allow you an eternity with yours. All you have to do is accept His salvation and with a joyful, redeemed heart join Him at His home. He—and your child—are waiting for you there.

(c) 2008 Sarah’s Laughter-Christian Support for Infertility & Child Loss

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 If you think these words may also comfort someone else you know... do send it on!

Thanks for reading...

No Simple Way Around It- Miscarriage Realities

(Magnolia- pic not really relevant to post but I just love magnolias! So pretty.)

This past week a friend went through a hard time. Even though I've been through some stuff similar to her experience, there is nothing to say that will make it better. I am still helpless. So sorry, girl.

I'm thankful that I had the week off so we got to hang out for a few hours one afternoon. I feel priviledged that we got to have some good conversation, even in the sadness. We connected on quite a few things, and even though she has appreciated that I am able to be there for her (and I'm so glad), in an odd way, it was actually like she was there for me also, dealing with my stuff too.

Here are things I'm learning after thinking through my own early miscarriages/pregnancy loss (before 12 weeks, because that's what I know about)... I know not everyone goes through the same thing, so I understand if it doesn't ring true with everyone.

1. Usually it is easiest to blame yourself- even I didn't say it, I thought it. Like thinking, I skipped rope before I found out, I ate that weird thing, I was too hot, I had that sip of wine, etc. NO YOU DIDN'T CAUSE IT. (Unless you abuse your body in an obvious way like with drug addiction, reasons for early miscarriage are still not medically clear and they don't know how to prevent it. Don't let others or old wives' tales tell you otherwise.)

2. It is hard to know how to think about the little life that was in you. It is easier to think of it as a vague entity, but it was life. Yet we think it wasn't 'fully' a baby, so how do we acknowledge it? Sometimes it is easier to not think of it as your child, but it was. It was wanted. It was God's creation. (Safe in the Arms of God looks at the biblical basis of this if you want a book on it, by John MacArthur.)

3. It affects your marriage. Wives and husbands deal with it differently and it is not easy to know how to communicate about it. I feel like sometimes it is the whole 'circular effect' of not wanting to hurt the other spouse or see them cry, so we either don't bring it up or try to be brave and bear with it, but we end up avoiding it or miscommunicating somehow... (There's lots of resources on grief and the impact on marriage too.)

4. It surprises you how lost you feel. You didn't realise you could be attached or feel love for something you had not seen, met or, in some cases, felt.

5. Morning sickness may continue after the loss... and this is a difficult physical reminder.

6. There is shock because it all unfolds fairly quickly. You were pregnant, now you are not. What are you going to do with the plans, real or vague ones, that you made?

7. You kinda don't want to make a 'big deal' out of it but it rocks your world. For some just a little, for some a little more. There are now a lot of "What ifs". What if I get pregnant again, what if I miscarry again, what if... It may also bring out other insecurities, like what if all your friends or sisters 'over-take' you and become moms before you, have their second and third children even, etc... that is normal. There are no easy answers to these, just continue to bring them before God.

8. You don't know what to tell people- if you've been away from work, if you've already told some friends about your pregnancy, if you need to tell your mother she isn't going to be a grandma etc.

9. You don't know how others will react and you can be sensitive about comments... we brace ourselves for the comments that may be awkward, or make us feel angry or like it was our fault. Hopefully none come.

10. There are lots of questions for God, and not always sufficient good answers. You try not to think about it too much but you sorta can't help it either.

11. Time will help the intensity to ease. There may always be random things that will always remind you of your pregnancy and the loss, and this is normal so don't feel silly, and it does get easier over time.

12. It makes you so so so thankful for loving friends and family. Some may have been in the same position too and some not, regardless of that, their encouragement and support means so much and you realise how much you need them. If you have kept it all very private, sometimes it does help to share it with a close friend or family member whom you trust.

13. It helps to 'let it out' somewhere. For me, I have a journal where I 'write to God'. Some days I had lots to say to God and some days I didn't-  I write sad things, angry things, glad things. Counselling also provided me with good guidance when my grief seemed to be quite overwhelming or when it was affecting me in a way that was more than what close friends and family could help me with. Going for a walk and listening to music or just letting yourself weep was also fairly therapeutic.

I found this book, Free to Grieve, by Maureen Rank, good too. (They had it at the North Shore's Albany Library...)

More Than a Broken Window

Can everything be replaced?

Here's a post that got me thinking the other day. (The original post is here by Lori, who writes a great blog, though heart-breaking at times.)

It is about 'replacing children', with reference to the biblical book of Job... when you lose a child through pregnancy/miscarriage loss, some will say one way to get over it is to get pregnant again and have your next child... and yes I can understand where that thought would come from, as it probably helps life to keep going, but that does that really solve it? I think it helps you think about something else... But both are separate and different little lives that are special.

In the original post, Lori is thinking through it because she lost her baby last year and here she is pregnant again around the same time of the year, and it is so confusing.

It can be taken to another level too when we consider the whole idea of adoption. I know for me I need to mourn the idea of conceiving, carrying a baby in the womb and a baby that looks like the husband and me as we journey on with adoption. I've already been doing that since I've been on this infertility road- with all my issues, it just isn't always going to be clear, and will be a continual kind of grief, because you never really 'get over it' I don't think.

Hmmm... yes. This is kinda an incomplete thought! (Just thought to share the links for now cos' sometimes I take so long to produce a post and spit it out!)

Coping Strategies

(Staying afloat!)

When I was doing our last round of fertility, I made myself list things I could still look forward to even if the round didn't 'work'. As I've gone on in this journey of treatment cycles, I've learnt to sort of plan ahead for both good news and bad. (This may sound like I don't have enough 'hope', but trust me... the impact of the disappointment I have had reflects the amount of hope I held for each round. Planning for life beyond that is brutal but was something I needed to do.)

When Round 8 ended in loss, I looked at that list that was supposed to help me 'carry-on' with so much distaste. I just felt inconsolable, probably like any other grieving person initially. After all, those of you in similar shoes know that there is VERY little that can measure up to getting pregnant, having a healthy pregnancy and having a child. (I have to admit that stating those three things seem like an impossibility to me now.)

But this last week or so, I'm glad I had that list. Yes they may be so different, in light of what I'd really really really like to be doing, but they are still things that are significant and I'm thankful to be able to do, or at least attempt to do them. Here they are:
- run the Auckland Half Marathon (um... if my knee lets me)
- do a Pilates Instructor course (it is this weekend!)
- continue pursuing the process of education and application towards possibly adopting (cos' if I was pregnant they make you pause this process)- very excited!
- start a local infertility support group via church (or a network of some kind at least!)- this has been something I've been wanting to do for ages! Anyone keen? Let me know.

None of these take the pain away but I'm stoked that I have these things as challenges to keep my heart and mind occupied in a positive way.

On another note, I survived buying new-born diapers for two friends who've each had their gorgeous babies born this past week. Go them! (And go me!) I heaved the two massive boxes of diapers (gifts for them) on top of my usual groceries, and to be honest, I felt like such a faker... cos' then I continued down the aisle past the REAL mothers who were picking what jars of baby food to get for their babies. Thankfully the aisles are not that long and I reached the frozen foods without running over anyone.

Which is easier? Shopping for baby clothes or buying baby diapers? I'm not that sure. (Don't get me wrong. I love getting gifts, but some days I'm just also thankful for the invention of shopping online, vouchers and gift cards!)

Anyway. I'm coping okay. Hope you are too.

Round 8 Ends- I Want To Wake Up

About a week and a half ago I ended my two-week-wait to Round 8. (Round 8 was ovulation induction with Puregon/Gonal F injections and IUI.) You IF girls out there know how agonizing that wait is... we found out that my blood tested positive for pregnancy hormones but it was too low to be sustained.

My two-week-wait turned into a three-week-trauma. We did a couple more blood tests following that and this week it was confirmed that the pregnancy hormone levels dropped sharply and will continue to do so. In short, we were pregnant but had an early early miscarriage.

We are gutted.

We don't know the whys and probably won't for a while. It continues to remain a mystery medically and I've resolved to be okay with that. I would love to know but in the meantime... not knowing is also okay.

(I'm going to be upfront and say: If you have any new suggestions for reasons or ways to overcome recurrent miscarriage please DON'T share them with me right now, unless you yourself have gone through the same thing. It is just hard for me to receive such info at the moment.)

The word 'pregnant' has never been harder to spit out. I didn't want to use it because it sorta speaks it into 'being'. Sort of like saying it means I have to engage in all the possibilities it brings. I know some of you are familiar with this feeling too, whether or not the pregnancy is going well, where we don't dare to embrace the thought or reality because it could be too hard.

However, the truth is that egg-met-sperm, there was implantation, there was life, but beyond that, we don't know. It didn't go as we'd hoped.

I knew it'd get awkward at some point, blogging so openly about my life. Now I'm here- I don't know how to describe it. I want to be open, but sometimes that comes back to bite me because my vulnerability is also up for grabs.

As this dragged on, I struggled to have any social contact because I have not been functioning like a normal person. Up till a couple days ago, I pretty much just hid in my little shell and hoped everything would go away.

I hate that I've become so familiar with grief. I've been here before, but I didn't want to be here again, or this often. (Grief not just to do with loss but also to do with the disappointment of unexpected procedures, failed cycles, negative tests, the arrival of the pd- or AF.)

That 'shock' that really isn't just a simple zappy-jolt, but a lingering weight lasts longer than you think- where you are wading through a bog of thick air and everything is just empty inside. Hollowed-out. The worst part is that you feel like you are outside of time, but reality is that you are not and you desperately want the world to stop spinning because your everything has just frozen.

It has felt so much like a bad dream. A recurring one. Except the part where you wake up doesn't happen.

I hate that my texts/messages to those who have been waiting and praying with us have become the same: 'Worked but it is not going well...'

Sick of it.

I've had about ten days since the initial news to grieve, so the anger and frustration has subsided quite a bit. Thank you for praying for us and giving me the space to lie low. I'm very fortunate to have understanding friends and an empathetic workplace.

It has felt like it has gotten harder each round. We know it has probably got a lot to do with the reality of loss... so simply 'trying again' is really not so straightforward. It feels like another round is too hard to bear right now, so we are just going to try and focus on other things and see how it goes.

I hate that this is our fourth pregnancy loss and I hate that it sounds like just another number. This little bud of life was as precious to us as each of the other ones... and yet it is so hard to know how to acknowledge him/her because it was so brief and so invisible.

Oh Lord I have so many questions for you.

Thank you for praying for us and being there for us. We prayed for a miracle and in a sense we got it, but in another sense, we're also not sure what happened.

Thankfully, I'm been okay physically and I know the husband and I will recover. We know God is a God of hope, as much as it is hard to see.

In the meantime, yeah... this SUCKS so bad. But one-day-at-a-time continues to sound pretty handle-able.

Thanks for Airing

This morning I watched a doco about Jay Jay Feeney and Dom Harvey, local DJs who are husband and wife and have been trying for a baby. Some friends had seen it and told me about it- they warned that it'd be hard so I left it for a couple days before I watched it. They made a documentary on their fourth IVF cycle. (It was aired on 'Sunday' on 30th of May. Click to watch it but I'm not sure if non-NZers can view the video. Sometimes the TV people limit it to locals...)

I'm sorry that it did not have a 'happy' ending but I have to say it outlined the journey so well. They also braved the cameras and shared all the emotions that the husband and I have felt too, even though we haven't done IVF before. I think all fertility treatment cycles carry similar emotional impact. I watched it as I ate my breakfast and was trying to shove the porridge in my mouth before it got more soggy.

I just appreciate that their vulnerability would've been so hard. For us, sometimes the fact that friends and family know that we are trying can be bad enough, let alone the NZ public. We want them to know because we need the prayers, support and care, but it can be so difficult too because your lives and dreams are just right out there, and as especially when something goes wrong, there is such a sense of wanting to be alone in the grief and sometimes even a strong sense of failure.

Yet openness helps us all to learn from each other and empathise, so it is a funny tension again. I think airing it on TV also helped everyone have a bit more of a realistic idea of what's involved with infertility and treatments- in this case, IVF.

It was just comforting for me to see Jay Jay do the injections, wait for phone calls and react to the various bits of news, as they were all things we have done too. It was also hard but kinda cool to hear Dom's perspective, I think it gave a voice to many husbands out there who are also on this mad mad journey. (Thank you for sharing.)

Gratefulness and Grief

One of the things I've been learning through infertility is the 'duality' of things. For one, gratefulness and grief. They seem to be on opposite ends but they really are a combo.

(I love this and have been saving this photo for something. Since there are two flamingoes that make up a one gorgeous pair, I thought it'd be cool for this post!)

I've been thinking about this topic for a long time- things like these keep me awake at night! (Do you do that too?)

It has come up because I think sometimes we feel like we should not be 'down' or should only be for a short time. There are a few logical reasons for this.

One, I think we are nervous  about how we look- as it portrays that we are not grateful or thankful for what we have. It makes us look greedy, needy or dissatisfied. For example, I am married so I should find sufficient peace and happiness in my marriage and be grateful for that, instead of continually aching for children.

Totally. I'm all for 'counting my blessings', believe me! It makes sense. But honestly, at times, depending on the context, a response like that can be somewhat harsh.

Two, as Christians, there is that sense that we should be 'happy' because of what Christ has done for us, and though this is true, maybe being happy-all-the-time is unrealistic. We can be full of joy but we may not be happy about everything. I think there is a difference between joy and happiness. Happy being more of an emotional response, where as joy is maybe being positively assured and knowing you are okay deep at the core of you? Maybe? Hmmm... (Maybe I'll leave this for a Part 2 or something... )

Three, often grief involves questioning God himself, our concept of who God is and faith and sometimes we are nervous to do so. Fair enough.

I find grief a hard word to describe. My definition would be something like- engaging in and responding to the situation that has left a large impact, or something like that... There is also the famous five stages of grief that are: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. This is a useful way to understand the way grief is expressed, as we go through it.

With infertility, because it is not a one-off situation and there is no closure for a while or at all, even the five stages of grief may be an insufficient way to express it, as instead, it is an ongoing process, and the 'stages' pop up here and there and we get better at dealing with them, but they come back throughout life. Complicated.

For me, in terms of infertility and miscarriage, it is easy to think that it is simply all about babies. Like if you plonked a baby on my lap, all will be solved. Sadly it is not that simple, I have discovered there are more layers to this.

I grieve:

• the loss of being able to ovulate as a woman usually does,
• the loss of being able to conceive all by ourselves,
• the loss of carrying a baby/being pregnant to term,
• the loss of giving birth to a baby,
• the loss of bringing up a child,
• the loss of having a child that looks like us.

Now, please please know that I am aware these things may change in the future (or could already be changing) and we do have hope that it will, and pray that it will, but as we live in the present, this is the reality for me now. These are the issues I'm having to engage in and process through. Does that make sense?

It is not necessarily that I'm sad or crying all the time, it is more that these issues are always close to my heart, I wrestle with them daily and I have an ongoing discussion about them- with God, others, myself.

At the same time, I am grateful for everything I have. Quite possibly, in light of what I don't have, it makes me treasure what I do have all the more.

I have an indescribably-awesome husband, supportive friends, caring family, shelter, food, great country to live in, a job that is meaningful, an income, shoes, bags, clothes, etc. God's made me to be someone unique, with my own particular quirks (lots), strengths and weaknesses. I've been slowly molded as I've been following Christ. I'm learning a lot from the decisions I've made, etc... I am thankful for many things and I can list a hundred more things I'm grateful for if you ask me to.

So how does this work?

I guess they are not mutually exclusive. Having the bacon doesn't mean you will automatically resist the chocolate cake. (Probably not a fool-proof illustration, but I thought I'd use it anyway, as food's always a good one haha...)

I am discovering I can be grieving and grateful at the same time. And I'm learning to not be afraid of engaging in the seemingly 'sad' or difficult things in life. (Of course there is a point to which we should dwell on this stuff... as being too introspective has its hazards too!)

I think this reflects the reality of being human. We know things can be better and we seek it out. Whether we believe in God or not, we all seem to have this sense of looking forward to something better- desiring things to be fixed, made good, improved etc.

I believe this is because we all have an understanding of perfection, and as we are imperfect beings in a broken world, we desire it. What I'm trying to say is that longing for things to be made good is a natural part of us and it will not go away, probably not until heaven.

Additionally, we are only able to truly understand the beautiful and lovely things in life, only when we can also grasp the difficult and the ugly, as they exist in relation to each other.

What do you think?

Hmmm... I'm trying very hard to keep my posts short-ish haha... so I will end here for now... I hope this made sense and connected with you too (and that you are keeping warm wherever you are)!

Dear Baby N: A letter to you...

Last week was the due date of our baby we miscarried last year. Here is a note I wrote to him (or her):

Dear Baby N,

This past week would've been the week you were due to be born.

It is hard for your dad and I to know how to remember you, as we have very few memories to hang on to.

What will remain special to us will be the fact that we saw you grow in my tummy from 7-weeks to 8-weeks, and from 8-weeks to 9-weeks. We saw this on the ultrasound each of those three weeks, and we saw your growth in size, as well as your strong and vivid hearbeat. We were so excited and so full of hope!

(I know it is not exactly related to what the psalmist is saying, but because it talks about the heart, this verse has been significant to me,

...He who forms the hearts of all,
who considers everything they do...
Psalm 33:15

as it reminds me that you were created by God and are precious to Him. )

What happened after that 9-week mark, we're not sure and probably won't know. I guess there was just something that wasn't going well that we didn't pick up and I know, as you were still so tiny, we could not have done anything about it anyway.

I'm sorry that the events that followed colour my memory of you- when I started to spot, and got worried, and what eventuated at the hospital. I wish I could rub those mostly-difficult memories out but I know the best thing is to engage with both ends of the spectrum, however they come.

When we found out we were having you, your dad and I went out for a special meal and also shared the news with some friends and family. You also travelled with me to Singapore and even though you were a delicate little baby bud from the start, we had fun.

Later on it was his turn to travel (to the States) and then he had to come back early when we found out you were no longer with us. It was so hard. It is impossible to describe the devastation we felt when we lost you at 12-weeks.

I'm sorry that sometimes I wonder if you were imaginary and that I had dreamt you up. However, I know you were real, so much so that even our doctor was confident that we would meet you here and around this time.

We were hoping to find out if you were a girl or a boy, but that didn't happen and it will remain a mystery. As will your personality and what you look like. These are things I will be longing to find out.

Regardless of what happened, your dad and I will continue to celebrate you and are thankful that we even got pregnant with you in the first place, as that was a miracle in itself and we praise God for that.

I'm not exactly sure what it will be like when I meet you one day, as I still don't know how to comprehend heaven, but we look forward to that time coming soon. (And I know there are friends and family who are looking forward to knowing you too.)

I miss you. I wish you were here.

with love,
your mom,
s

p.s. This figurine in the corner of the pic below was a gift given to us by sweet friends. We look at it often and it is a precious reminder of you.

Whozzat?

When things get taken away from you, they strip you of your identity.

The whole idea of identity is a massive and fascinating topic and I'm probably only scratching a few layers of it, but I've been thinking about it... and I've had time to! I've been a shut-in for five days. (And for good reason. I'm not planning to be a hero- though I very much want to be. I hope to heal up well and fully, or close to it, so I have been resting. This is so that I can resume a bit of 'normality'- whatever that is- in our daily lives.)

In the last couple of years, I have been through four hospital admissions. This has also meant that I am becoming the Queen of Recovery- staying at home for a bunch of days, resting a lot, moving around but not too much, etc. I have also been very blessed to have people around me who have cared and helped to provide for our needs.

But being made to stay at home and not do much (as much as that sounds lovely at times) does something to you. I'm sure that seems a bit obvious- for one, cabin fever. And it is just not as glam - the Queen wears a coat of old duvet instead of red velvet and scruffy slippers instead of gem-encrusted shoes. She's usually home alone so there aren't any minions to boss around or posh tea parties or anything, though yes, there is cake and there is eating.

What I mean is, it makes me feel like I am not a contributing member of society, it makes me feel like I'm missing out, PLUS it makes me realise that the world goes on spinning with or without me. In short, it makes me reflect on who I am and what that means.

I can understand why we find so much 'pleasure' in being busy whether it is getting things done or spending time with others. As much as these may be positive things that do help the world function better, I realise they also give us a sense of being satisfied with who we are, a security in knowing we are needed and that we have a role to play.

For me, I feel like who I think I am is constantly being tweaked and questioned. Let me try and explain. Here are some of the things I pride myself on being... and some of the who-am-I questions it leaves me with:

• I put a lot of effort into being a good wife to the husband. I love the husband. But in recent months, things have been out of our control. There are aspects of his health and well-being that I cannot 'make better'.

Even if I wasn't a wife or a good wife, who would I be?

• I aim to be healthy and fit- and let's be honest, want to look good. Running and swimming are some of my 'things' that I try to do. But with having many procedures and treatments, these are also things that I constantly have to give up and re-arrange.

 If I wasn't even able to be healthy, or can't take care of how I look, who would I be?

• I thought that desiring to be a mother was a God-given thing and I don't think I have impure motives to be one. Now that I have been struggling to have a baby, that role of motherhood feels out of my reach.

 If I'm never a mother, who would I be and how will I still be okay?

• I have wanted to be in a job that is meaningful. And both in my previous and current job, I am doing something that is precious to me. However, just when I find my feet with one task or project, things seem to change due to life's ups and downs or I'm not always able to figure out how best to use my strengths and abilities, etc.

If don't excel in my job, can't prove to others that I am a capable woman, who am I?

• I want to be a good friend to my friends, but there are some relationships that I have not been able to pursue due to events in life and a drop in capacity (and I'm not even a high-capacity person in the first place). Or I've not been able to solve their problems as well as I'd like to. 

If friendships get strained or taken away from me, or if I can't be there for them all, who am I?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to get us all depressed nor am I asking for sympathy. I'm still going to pursue these things (above) to the best of my abilities. Surprisingly, yes, I do actually love my life. I list them just to illustrate how I think I hold on to roles that I feel give me significance, when maybe even these seemingly 'good' things are still only peripheral to who/what God wants us to be and He is constantly peeling me back to help me discover what's at the core. Or it is the manner in which I am stubbornly using them to make me feel good, that He is trying to pry my fingers from- maybe? I don't really know.

I think maybe what I'm trying to process is: God is showing me (will be showing me throughout my lifetime) how I've anchored my identity in so many aspects of life- many of which are not bad. But even some of these things may not always be, and His following question/s is, "Who will you be without these? What will you do then?"...

Truth is, I know the answer. It just isn't the easiest one to do- I'm still learning how. Yet it is the best and the only way.

So I died to the law—I stopped trying to meet all its requirements—so that I might live for God. My old self has been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me. So I live in this earthly body by trusting in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.
Galations 2:19-20 (NLT)

No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:39 (NLT)

My Three Categories of Crying

I cry a lot. Do you?

I'm not sure if it is the infertility road itself, or if it is just that I have become more aware or open about my issues, but I'm less afraid of it. To me it is not a necessarily negative thing (unless I'm using it to be manipulative), it is simply a way of expressing emotion and there is a reason why we were made to be able to cry.

Whatever it is, the human body can produce a lot of tears and I've become pretty shameless about weeping wherever and whenever. The husband has slowly gotten used to it, and is great at being there for me and waiting while I just let it all out, even when he desperately wants to go to bed. He should get a medal.

I have learnt to prepare myself by stuffing tissues (Kleenex Aloe Vera is best from my research) in my handbag before I leave the house most days, having a pack of tissues in our car and the husband's vehicle too. If I have run out, I will resort to serviettes, toilet paper and the back of my hand. (Does cause a bit of a mess if I leave tissues in my pocket and forget about them before doing the laundry. So annoying! Oh well.)

I know we all cry differently for different reasons, but I just thought about the 'categories' for myself...

Here are my types of crying:

1.  Deep agony.

Time/Place: Home. Late in the night.
Amount of tears: 40 noseblows
Who's around: The husband or no one

When your heart is simply broken. I think this is a grieving kind of crying (often includes sobbing), when the massive-ness of this journey occurs to me. For me, there is a certain amount of anger that comes out too.

So many 'resons' can spark this off. Things like the fact that I can't quite get my head around the children I have who are in heaven (children? mine? who? what?where? heaven?), wanting to meet them now, the idea of waiting but not knowing if I'm waiting for something I'm not going to get, the idea that not only may I not have kids but that would mean the husband won't have kids either, anger at how things seem 'unfair', jealousy that others have what I want, just feeling very lost, etc, etc, etc.

I am worn out from groaning;
all night long I flood my bed with weeping
and drench my couch with tears.
-Psalm 6:6

My face is red with weeping,
deep shadows ring my eyes
-Job 16:16
[It is good to know that David and Job did this as well. (And they were men too.)]

Frequency: Depends. Not often, but when it does, everything seems to pour out. And when you're done, you have no energy left.

Strategy: Vaseline or Elizabeth Arden's Eight Hour cream is good for the area around the nose and upper lip.

2. Constant struggling/wrestling with God.

Time/Place: Church service or similar
Amount of tears: 4-5 noseblows
Who's around: The husband and the whole room full of church-attenders

Somehow, I have no shame crying in church! It seems to just flow freely. I don't really mind, but I'm not sure how others who see this might feel. This happens especially during worship songs. I think this is because in singing these songs I'm declaring that I love God and He is good. And this is a hard thing to fully reconcile. I'm not usually crying cos' I'm doubting, I'm more crying cos' I know God is great and His plans are perfect, I just cannot fathom how that works with how much it hurts to get there.

Frequency: At the moment, almost every church service. (Whywhywhy!!!)

Strategy: Blow your nose during the song-singing, so that you don't have to when everyone's quietened down for the sermon.

3. Random tears

Time/Place: Unexpected- anywhere, anytime.
Amount of tears: 1-2 noseblows or just a quick wipe
Who's around: Could be the husband, or friends, or even strangers...

This is when something that comes up stirs a memory up or stings the wound. There is a wide range of when this might occur, from a simple conversation with a friend to watching a movie preview for 'The Blind Side'. Something sparks an emotion in you and the taps turn a little. I try to blink it back and sometimes that is good enough. Sometimes, they keep coming. Usually this only lasts a little while, but it is hard to say.

Frequency: Often.

Strategy: If it is safe, share what's on your mind. Your friends probably want to know how to care for you and it helps if you let them know.



Not sure why I decided to write about this. Just thought you might want to know you are not alone on the sad days. If we look up 'tears' or 'weeping' in the bible, there are lots of verses!

...a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance...
- Ecclesiastes 3:4

Easter

(I love hot cross buns!)

Another Easter weekend has come and gone. We got to celebrate it with lovely friends who treat us like family. We are thankful for them.

April is a significant time for me. Two years ago, Andy and Nikki Bray lost their daughter Natasha in a horrible river canyoning accident, as did six other families. Around the same time, we experienced our first loss.

I remember reflecting on these things. Our first baby loss was very hard for me. It surprised me how bad I took it. I think as much as I had thought about miscarriage and knew others who had gone through it, I still didn't expect it to happen, and so when it did, it was a great shock. Also, when it takes extra effort to get there, with fertility treatment, you are also grieving the idea that you may have just used your ONE 'lucky ticket' kinda thing, though I know that may not be an actual truth. It just felt like a big blow on so many levels.

Anyway. I remember thinking that if I found it so so hard dealing with the loss of this baby, whom I hadn't even really known (carried for 9 weeks in the womb), how much harder would it be for the Brays who lost their amazing seventeen-year-old daughter, and pretty much any other parent who has lost a child.

Then I remember also transferring that to wondering how intensely agonizing it would have been for God to see His only Son die on the cross. How did God feel? And not only did Jesus die as someone who was perfect, He did it for us, beings who do not deserve it at all. Not at all. (I don't think I will ever be able to comprehend how God felt/feels, but I know He has also made us in His image so we probably have some understanding of it.)

I know I have to be careful about bringing God to 'my level' but I have to say that it comforts me to know God knows how it feels and knows it to a much larger extent. It helps me to know God isn't just this face-less, cold yet powerful thing who is simply shoving me to 'get over it', but treasures my tears and is holding me tight.

There are always so many more things I want to say and expand on! But I need to keep to time... haha so that's all for now.

A Car With Four Doors- A Poem

I'm trying not to spend my time just waiting

but you follow me around

from the bathtub in the bathroom and the tray across it that would hold your bath things

to the drawers in the bedroom where I quickly push past stretchy clothes that were set aside for when I were to carry you

from the kitchen where my jar of folic acid seems to be mocking me, while I take it for yet another day

to the bookshelf that holds pregnancy books (though the only chapters I'm familiar with are the first and the last)

from the calendar with empty pages because we never know how far to plan

to the Christmas tree that holds ornaments meant for you

from the weighing scales that fluctuate with my body's reaction to treatments (and grief)

to the short walk around the neighbourhood that I had initially mapped out in waiting for you

from the pages in my journal that are conversations I have with God about you

to the cupboard with extra boxes of tissues we have for tears I never knew could flow so unceasingly

from the photos of our wedding day when we first became family

to the blank wall next to it anticipating framed pictures of you

from this house with three bedrooms, where we've been planning to have one be yours

to the car with four-doors, waiting to cart you around, that we thought would be better than two.

I try to not spend my time just waiting

but you follow me around

quietly

leaving a trail of broken pieces of my heart.

I think you'd like it here

but it is not for me to say

and I hope we meet one day soon.

In the meantime

I can't help it

I will keep anticipating you.

(This piece of writing was started in December 2009, the title was inspired by a conversation I had with a certain friend- I hope you don't mind me using it! It is based on my experience but also written to all who are waiting for or missing their children; for those experiencing infertility or have been through loss in general. Especially dedicated to one valued friend for whom today is sadly memorable.)