It’s Been A While…

…a year and two days exactly since my last post.  A lot has happened and is happening, and God has sent me on a journey that s stretching me in ways that I’ve never been stretched before.  Right now, I cannot go into details for a multitude of reasons.  Hopefully, one day, I’ll be able to blog about what the last year has been like.  All I can say right now is that God is showing me things beyond my imagination.  He’s also giving me strength to live in circumstances I never thought I could.  While my faith has been tested (and is being tested daily) I can honestly say I’m closer to God than I’ve ever been.  Do I have bad days?  Yes, very bad days; however, on those bad days God gives me the encouragement I need to keep going EVERY TIME.  When all you have left is God you realize that all you really need is Him.  I’m stronger in my faith than I’ve ever been even the midst of the greatest pain in my life.

I re-read my last post from May 10, 2012  and realized that it is more relevant to me today than it was a year and two days ago.  It’s not hard to find since it was last post before this, but for your convenience here’s a link:

http://awomanwithoutchildren.wordpress.com/2012/05/10/a-word-of-prayer-with-myself/

Looking back at it I realize God was preparing me for the journey I’m on now and why I had to put my childlessness behind me in order to cope with what I was getting ready to experience.   While my comprehension of my future is fraught with uncertainly I stand on this scripture:

^“ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  Jeremiah 29:11  NIV

A Word of Prayer With Myself

It’s the week that most childless women dread the most, the week many of us call “hell week”…the week leading up to Mother’s Day.   For years I joined in with the collective pity party of the non-moms, and while there’s a solidarity, an us-against-the-fertile-world feeling there’s not any real comfort in it, and honestly, it’s never made me feel better about the day

Mother’s Day is not really what I want to address  in this post though.  I’ve had to come to some very harsh realizations lately based on some circumstances and relational issues.  So, when I say what I say below please note I’m talking more to myself than anyone out there.  I just hope that, maybe, as an infertility/childless veteran I can spare someone  the same pitfalls I’ve experienced.

Are you ready?  Are you sure?  Here comes the sage advice from nearly 20 years of chidlessness….

Just get over it.

Is that a collective gasp I hear throughout the childless blogosphere?  Will I wake up to comments of outrage  in my inbox in the morning?  Maybe, but hear me out.  Again, this is me having a word of prayer with myself.

How many more years are you going to spend pining away for that child you’ll most likely never have?  How many more times will you let that non-existent child keep you from happiness?  God gave you one life to live, and while you’d like to march right up to His throne, stomp your foot, and demand an explanation for why He didn’t give you children that’s not going to happen.  So, the best thing you can do is trust His sovereignty and hand him all the mess and pain and tell Him he can have it.  (Disclaimer) If you don’t believe in God then give it back to the universe, mother nature, or whatever entity you believe controls everything.  If you believe in nothing then it’s all a moot point anyway, and so you better get over it and live this life to the fullest, right, because when it’s over it’s over.

Really, what good are you doing to yourself by dragging it with you like the proverbial ball or chain?  Quit waking up in the morning and putting on your garment of pain and self pity.  Honestly, it’s not attractive.  It’s a heavy, moth-eaten old garment of mourning.  It’s made of scratchy wool; it stinks; it weighs you down so get rid of it.  You’ve grieved long enough.  Even in the olden days the period of grief when a loved one died was usually one year.  While your grief is different it’s still grief.  You’ve been mired down in it for years, and it’s time to snap out of it.  Get help to snap out of it  if you need it.

I’ve come to another big realization…your family/friends don’t understand.   They really don’t, and that’s why they sometimes/many times they come off as aloof and uncaring.  They don’t know how you feel (unless they’ve been there themselves), and what they want is you and not this constant grief and sadness you emit.  This is particularly true with your spouse.  If you’re relatively new to this path your spouse may be very understanding.  They may go out of their way to do things to make you happy.  You know the worst thing you can do when they’re trying to make you happy?  Not be happy.  I’m sure your spouse is wonderful, but after years and years of trying to pick you up out of the mire they will eventually run out of emotional resources to continue.  They are dealing with this too, and you are doing them no favors by constantly wanting them to wallow in the mire with you.  Heck, some of them will eventually pack their bags and leave… if not physically then emotionally and intimately.  Don’t let that happen to you.

I wish I could say that there is some magical formula to make this happen.  There’s not.  It’s really making up your mind and determining in your heart that it’s time.  This may be a place you come to on your own, or like me, circumstances may drive you there.  I do, however, have a few ideas on changing your mindset.

• Appreciate each day.  Wake up and instead of putting on that horrible garment of pain put on some light comfortable garments of gratitude and think about what’s good in your life.  Even if you’re not where you’d like to be there is something good going on in your life.  Think about that  instead of the negative things.
• Appreciate what childlessness gives you.  If I’d had children when I wanted to I’d be dealing with teenage angst and college tuition bills.  I will never have to deal with either.  I have more disposable income, and I am free to change the direction of my career or even my address without the added stress of, “How will this affect the children?”  Face it, I have more freedom even if I would’ve given up that freedom gladly for children.  I might as well enjoy the freedom because I have it.
• Plan a kick-butt vacation even if it’s a mini-one like we did last weekend.  We spent two nights in a B&B and did a bike trip down the Virginia Creeper Trail in Damascus, Virginia.  It didn’t cost too much, and we made some awesome memories.  Even if you can’t afford a couple of days take a short day trip near your own backyard.  As Ellie in up said, “Adventure is out there!”  You just have to get  your depressed, lazy butt up off the couch and find it.
• Start dreaming again.  This is something I am actively having to work on.  It doesn’t come easy for me because my dreams stopped when I realized that children weren’t coming.  It was easier not to dream anymore and avoid any further pain.  What I am realizing is that by not dreaming I was causing myself more pain in the long run.

Again, this is a very blunt and direct post and a trip to the woodshed for myself, but sometimes instead of patting each other on the back and saying “there, there” sometimes we need to give each other and ourselves a swift kick in the bum.

So, consider this the swift kick we all need.

 

 

Chaotic Musings of a Less-Than-Spotless Mind

Uh-oh, I want to write, but I have many topics swirling around my head at the moment, so I’m going to ride the wave of wandering thoughts.  Maybe later I’ll write more extensively on some of the thoughts later if they decide to become cohesive.

• Since my husband is  traveling for business more…which is 100% more than he was traveling last year…I have to spend up to two weeks at a time without my spouse.  Other than our stint at a commuter marriage last year this is a relatively new experience for me.  At first I revel in the, “He’s gone, so I can do anything I want when I want” euphoria, but several days in the euphoria wears off, and I just want him back home.  Of course, I work full-time during the week so I cope pretty well during that time, but the weekends can be a HUGE challenge.  Of course, I could schedule my weekend social calendar out the ying-yang, but I also need downtime for rest and energy renewal.  My problem is I’ve never had to learn to be alone without being lonely.  Many of us haven’t.  Being Ms. Practical that I am I decided that Google might help me find some resources, and sure enough, I found some interesting and creative ideas about how to enjoy being alone.   You really have to practice at it.  Alone-ness is really not a popular concept in our culture which demands we always be connected to someone either face-to-face or through technology and social media.  This video really spoke to me in it’s creative and artistic way: 
• I had a woman at church come up to me after service last week and offer to pray for me.  She said that she could sense that I was struggling with something.   I was.  It’s not been a good couple of weeks on the childless or relational front, and I found myself at church last Sunday in an a less-than-enthusiastic mood.  I’m sure I was exuding a wee bit of a Debbie Downer vibe as, let’s face it, I can be a wee bit of a Debbie Downer at times (just ask my husband).  Anyway, when you attend a charismatic church with high-energy worship and you sit on the pew like a bump on a log people notice.  So, maybe this is how this person noticed, but no matter, I did need prayer, and I did want assurance that God is not going to leave me in depression forever; so he sent this sweet little lady to pray with me.  Even though I go to a charismatic church it’s a megachurch and having people pray over you personally is not the norm, at least in my nearly decade of experience there.   I did tell her exactly what I was feeling, and how I struggle with depression over childlessness and the effect it’s had on my relationships and family.  Her response (loosely quoted) was, “I’m a mom, and I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, but I’ve struggled with situational depression, so I can relate on that level.”  She then said the sweetest, most thoughtful prayer I’ve ever had some pray over me.  Very uplifting and encouraging.
• Speaking of depression…while I’ve known for I while I suffer from it (along with anxiety), but I’ve never really owned it.  Last weekend I watched the movie, Girl Interrupted, and while I’ve never been depressed enough that I thought I needed hospitalization (others in my life might disagree) I could really relate to the main character of the film (the film was based on her real-life experience in a mental institution).  It made me want to learn more about depression and how it affects the sufferer and those who love them.  I found a book called  Is It Weird in Here or is it Just Me?written by a depressed man while he was in a mental institution.  While I take comfort in the fact that I don’t think my depression is severe I also find it sobering that I can completely understand how he feels in his depression, and how even though you know your thoughts and feelings can oftentimes be irrational and lie to you your emotions can sometimes take complete control and have an epic battle with your logical thought.  Still reading it, but I can already say that it’s a good read especially for folks who have loved ones who are depressed and don’t understand why they can’t just snap out of it.
• Planning a weekend getaway for early May with my husband, and I think it’s going to ROCK as long as the weather cooperates.  I’ll definitely write about that experience one way or the other.  Traveling is always good therapy for me even when  I have to  fight off the anxiety monsters who want to keep me miserable on trips sometimes.

I think that’s about it for the moment.

When Hope Seems Cruel

I’ll admit it,  I’ve been caught up in the whole Hunger Games hysteria.  It started  innocently enough.  When I found out that the movie was being shot in North Carolina; more specifically, the arena scenes in my home county in forests that I frequented as a child, and the capitol scenes in my current city of residence, well, I had to read the books.

The books are not my typical genre of choice.  I’m not into dark story lines or stories that contain a lot of violence, but there was something about this story line that drew me in.   Since I  hail from Appalachia I’m  drawn to stories that originate from there, but I think what drew me in was the story’s main character, Katniss Everdeen.  In the books the story is told from her perspective.  If you don’t know the premise by now you’ve probably been living in a media-free cocoon, but simply Katniss is a 16-year-old girl who is primary caregiver to her younger sister and mother.  They live in a dystopian future under an oppressive totalitarian government that chooses 2 “tributes” from the 12 established districts (between ages 12 and 18) every year to participate in a gladiator-style, death match dubbed as “The Hunger Games”.    This is mostly for the entertainment of the privileged Capitol citizens, but it originated as punishment to the districts for a past uprising and serves as a yearly reminder that the Capitol is still firmly in control of every aspect of their lives.

I see some of myself  in  Katniss Everdeen although I’m not as brave as she.   She is an introvert by nature who has suffered painful loss in her life and is now just trying to survive her situation the best way she knows how.  There are people in her life that she loves dearly, but she has cut almost everyone off from becoming too close, because she is afraid that one day she will lose them.   In the movie she talks to her closest friend about never wanting to have children.   It’s understandable given the oppression she lives under.   On “Reaping Day” for the Hunger Games Katniss’ life changes forever in a moment of fate and choice.

Below  is a poignant scene in the movie (edited by the original poster for content–there was more said in this scene).   The President of Panem,  Corolanius Snow,  is speaking to the head gamemaker, Seneca Crane, about a situation happening during the games (not a spoiler if you’ve not seen the movie).  It speaks into a situation that has recently arisen in my life:

Why did that scene speak to me?  Well, recently, quite unexpectedly I was given an unexpected glimmer of hope concerning my fertility.   After many years of  fertility treatment and then many years of giving up I began having regular cycles on a drug (natural progesterone) that in and of itself shouldn’t have made my cycles regular.  To say that I was utterly shocked by my doctor’s declaration that I am most likely ovulating is an understatement.  I was FURIOUS!

That might seem like an odd reaction to news that just ten years ago would’ve thrilled me, but I was/am angry.  After all those years of hoping and praying and trying expensive fertility treatments it turns out that simple natural progesterone was the magic trick for me…at least to produce ovulation.  Now that I am 43 speeding on towards 44 it all seems like a cruel joke…too little almost too late.

I told my husband and a trusted friend the day I found out.  I cried my eyes out, and I  still can’t speak about it without crying.   I don’t think either of them understood my absolute devastation at hearing this news.   That simple statement totally eroded several years of healing I’d done in an attempt of finally coming to grips that we would forever be childless.   Of course, this brings up  a whole myriad of questions that I wasn’t emotionally prepared to deal with:

Could I actually get pregnant?  Do I want to get pregnant?  Could I survive a pregnancy loss?  Could I deal with a very high-risk pregnancy which is what it would be at my age?  And the biggie…do I actually want a baby at my age?

I do have answers to those questions; however, I’m not at peace about my answers.   On one hand I want to give God every opportunity to fulfill his intended will for my life and to give joy and hope to the people in my life that I love dearly, but on the other hand I’m not sure that pursuing the glimmer of hope I have been given is in my best interest or that  a positive outcome is even remotely possible.   I’ve  lived so many years on emotionally shaky ground that hope at this point seems like yet another doorway to heartache and pain.  That’s why right now I can relate to the hope being stronger than fear principle and like President Snow I just want to contain it before it reeks any more havoc.

Thoughts after Trauma

For two weeks after my dad’s accident I lived at a hospital.  Well, not 24/7, but mom and I spent upwards to 10 hours there everyday.  My mom has been there almost an additional week beyond me.  I had to return to work this week.  I’m happy to say that my dad is being transferred to an inpatient traumatic brain injury rehabilitation program today, so the hospital vigil will officially end for my mom.  I’m encouraging her to get some much-needed rest and not spend her every waking hour at the rehab with dad.

Like I said  in my last post my perspective changed while spending every day in the hospital.  I hesitate to say my life became simpler given the seriousness of my dad’s injuries, but in a way life did become simpler.  My entire focus was on being an advocate of my dad’s care and support person for my mom.  Of course, I had to make sure all my responsibilities were being handled at home and at work, but once that was settled I could put all my energy into that main focus.

For the first time in a long time I felt I had a purpose, an important one, and that I was very needed by someone.   Yes, at times it was exhausting (still recovering from that) and my emotions were on a crazy roller-coaster (still recovering from that too).   On particularly bad days there were times I called my husband and virtually cried on his shoulder, but most of the time I surprised myself at how totally in control, assertive and stable I was  in the midst of a traumatic and life-changing time for my family.

While I’m definitely ready for this situation to be behind us I’m already missing that time when my life seemed to have real purpose.  Coming back to real life (the rat race) where my life purpose seems a little ambiguous has been more difficult than expected.   I felt whole and complete caring for my parents which is actually going to be an ongoing task with new dynamics depending on how well my dad  recovers from his brain injury.  Trying to manage this from 2-1/2 hours away may prove to be more challenging than I’m equipped for, but as with the acute care of my dad I just have to rely on the Lord to make a way and give me management skills and the emotional/physical fortitude that I don’t possess at the moment.

Again, the  situation has prompted me to question many things in life, and there are no simple answers.  Things were happening prior to my accident that already had me questioning whether or not I was going to remain where I am much longer (I’m being vague here, because, you know, it’s the internet).   I’ve felt for several years that  I’m being pulled in too many directions, stretched too thin, and the last few weeks has amplified the feeling that I need to simplify life and focus on family more.

Honestly, I have no idea what that looks like or how it is to happen, so I’m giving it to God.  If He truly wants this for me he’ll make a way.  I’ve often said that the upside of not having children is that I will be more available for mine and my hubby’s aging parents.  In some ways that’s true, but because of life and the reality that bills still have to paid it makes the the execution of this very challenging.

The biggest lesson I’ve learned through all of this is don’t take your family for granted.  While I know that losing my parents is inevitable (unless I go before them) I kept telling myself, “They probably  have at least 10 good years left”.  Life is so fragile.  It took spending a week in a neuro-trauma ICU waiting room to realize just how unpredictable and fragile life is.

ICU Perspective

I write this sitting in a Neuro trauma ICU waiting room.  At approximately this time last Monday I got the news that no one wants to get.  My dad had had an accident.  He had been cutting a tree on his property.  The tree didn’t fall exactly where he planned, and he didn’t get out of the way fast enough.  He was being airlifted to a trauma center.  Of course, I immediately dropped everything and drove two hours to the hospital terrified of what I would hear when I got there.  I prepared myself for the worst.  I don’t think I’ve ever prayed so fervently in all my life (except when my husband had to have emergency surgery).  I was almost relieved when I was told he just had a skull fracture and a small subdural hematoma and no other injuries; however, we spent nearly a week waiting for him to wake up not knowing if he ever would.

He did wake up yesterday, and today he was extubated and attempting to talk some and wants to go home!  It’s going to be a little while before that happens though.

Spending a week in the neuro trauma ICU is a vivid lesson on the fragility of life.  I’ve seen gunshot victims, knifing victims, car accident victims and another tree cutting accident victim that is much more injured than dad.  Dad’s ICU neighbor is a 20-something young man who started having strokes for some yet-to-be-determined reason.

It will take some time and rest to fully process how this week has affected me, but I know I will walk away from this experience with an entirety new perspective on some things.  I know for certain that what was a big deal to me at 3:00 p.m. last Monday is not such a big deal to me today.

On Giving Birth in the Dream World…

Birthing dreams…those are the worst.  I’ve had several over the last twenty years.   I probably average one or two a year now.  They were more frequent in our early years of trying to conceive, since obviously, my mind was often consumed by my desire to get pregnant.  Even though I’ve (mostly) moved past the  point that I desire to have a baby…although I’m doing nothing to prevent it; still allowing God room to do a miracle though I’m not expecting it…having birthing/baby dreams are the thing that rattles me the most at this point.

I cope pretty well now with the big stuff that used to send me into a deep depression.   I can go to baby showers, go to the hospital and see a friend’s newborn, and a year later go to that first milestone birthday party.  It’s the stuff that goes on inside my head, especially in my subconscious, that can send me into a tailspin more quickly than anything.  I think it’s because during the dream there is such a sense euphoria then upon awakening I’m back to harsh reality.  Needless to say, the ensuing day/days are never my best mood wise even when the dreams are on the bizarre side (sometimes I dream I give birth to a baby but once it’s put in my arms it’s one of my cats—I’m sure a psychologist could have a heyday interpreting that!)

So, I had one last night.  It went something like this:  I was taking a bath when quite suddenly I began having “pains”.  The next thing I knew I was giving birth right there in the bathtub.  It was sort of a “I Didn’t Know I Was Pregnant” scenario.  I gave birth to tiny, premature, yet healthy baby girl.  Hubby would not let me get out of the tub, so I drew her to me and began to nurse her (I always nurse in my birthing dreams—another interesting aspect a shrink could have a field day with).  Hubby called the paramedics, and they came.  I was embarrassed that the paramedics were seeing me naked, but it was a passing embarrassment, because I was elated and surprised that I had a baby girl!  After that the dream kind of trailed off.

It wasn’t the last dream of the night, so upon awakening I didn’t really remember it until I started taking a shower…in the flowing water the memory of that dream hit me like a ton of bricks.  Then I was hit with a depression that almost rendered me unable to go to work, but I powered through, although  the memory of the dream has haunted me all day.

I really wish those dreams didn’t jar me as much as they do, but because I’m dealing with the subconscious I can’t fight off the tidal wave of feelings they dredge up like I can do with waking thought.

Here’s to hoping I have sweet and baby-less dreams tonight…