In The Mean Time

One piece of advice I often received while waiting to become a mother was to make the most of the freedom and extra time that I wouldn't get back for many years after we had children.  If you know me, you know I always bristled at this comment because as Tom Petty said, "The way-ya-ting is the hardest part."  Didn't they understand it is difficult to see the forest through the trees when you are in the thick of it?  It came across as just one more insensitive comment from those who "didn't get it."  Tonight, though, I had a conversation with a friend I go to church with after which I feel I finally "got it." 

I'll start off with a little background on my friend whom I will call, Dee.  Dee and I both have "callings" (volunteer positions) serving the young women of our congregation in Sunday School classes and midweek youth activities.  Dee and I are both the same age with only 10 days separating our date of births.  Dee and I are also both infertle myrtles in a Mormon sea of bellies swollen with life and stereotypically large families.  She is not yet a mother, however, so she really "gets it." Tonight, during our discussion on how much such lot in life sucks, she reminded me about one of the talks given by a member of the general authority of our church.  Because she "gets it", though, her telling me this story really made me think.  Here is the story:

Don't worry, it isn't all churchy... instead something I think we can all relate to.

“One woman wanted more than anything else to marry... and be a mother and a wife. She had dreamed about this all her life, and oh, what a wonderful mother and loving wife she would be. Her home would be filled with loving-kindness. Never a bitter word would be spoken. The food would never burn. And her children, instead of hanging out with their friends, would prefer to spend their evenings and weekends with Mom and Dad.

“This was her golden ticket. It was the one thing upon which she felt her whole existence depended. It was the one thing in all the world for which she most desperately yearned.

“But it never happened. And, as the years went on, she became more and more withdrawn, bitter, and even angry. She could not understand why God would not grant her this righteous desire."

“She worked as an elementary school teacher, and being around children all day long simply reminded her that her golden ticket had never appeared. As the years passed she became more disappointed and withdrawn. People didn’t like being around her and avoided her whenever they could. She even took her frustration out on the children at school.

Holy graham crackers, Batman! I want to give this woman a hug. I am just like her... bitter, withdrawn and angry.

“The tragedy of this story is that this dear woman, in all her disappointment about her golden ticket, failed to notice the blessings she did have. She did not have children in her home, but she was surrounded by them in her classroom. She was not blessed with a family, but the Lord had given her an opportunity few people have—the chance to influence for good the lives of hundreds of children and families as a teacher.

“The lesson here is that if we spend our days waiting for fabulous roses, we could miss the beauty and wonder of the tiny forget-me-nots that are all around us.”  

~ Dieter F. Uchtdorf

Having Dee remind me of this story made me realize that there is actually great wisdom in those that have encouraged me to make the most of my time.  I don't want to waste all of my time and effort grieving in the mean time waiting for my prayers to be answered for more children.  My "in the mean time" may mean that never in this mortal existance will I experience a full term pregnancy or the joy of bringing life into this world.  That doesn't mean that my "in the mean time" will be any less productive or legacy producing than any one else.  I've just got to recognize the damn forest in the trees so that I don't waste my opportunities while I still have them.  I want to make the most of my "in the mean time."

"Sending you forget me nots
To help me to remember
Baby please forget me not
I want you to remember"

~ Patrice Rushen, Forget Me Nots

Arts and Laughs

Grief is such a funny thing.  It totally sucks but sometimes in the midst of it I become overwhelmed with the excitement of the possibility it brings.  The possibility for the expansion of who I am.  Though we are not trying to conceive right now (thankyouverymuch) I am still grieving my multiple losses amongst what seems to be a sea of women with much better luck than I.   As a result I have found myself craving two things to help me cope... the one I'm not surprised about is humor.  I always love a good laugh.  The other is a bit unexpected for left brained, engineering me... arts and crafts!

I was dreading the slew of upcoming births until I found a great combination of the two to keep me from hiding in my cave and avoiding everyone and anything that has to do with pregnant bellies and/or new babies. 

Arts and Crafts:

I've got a new obsession that I am sure many of you can relate to.  I believe it is the internet equivalent of Pringles (because seriously how addicting are they?) but it is spelled P-I-N-T-E-R-E-S-T.  In the countless hours I've spent on the site since Angie invited me I found the following that appeals to not only my desire for arts and crafts but the whole green, thrifty thing I've got going:

Recycling Old T-Shirts into Baby Gowns

(click image for link)

Thank you to This Mama Makes Stuff for posting this tutorial!  I hope I can brush up my sewing skills enough to make several of these for quick and easy "go to" gifts for baby showers.  I'm also hoping they will help keep me out of the baby aisles and that in the process of creating these super cute, and unique gifts I can sew through a few of my feelings.  Perhaps even tie up a few loose ends.

Humor:

Hugs and millions of thank yous to Jenny TheBloggess for making me laugh on a regular basis and for creating the funniest card to give to new parents... EVER!

I am going to buy a half dozen of these cards to accompany my cool sleep sacks.  It may not be your standard baby shower gift card but I feel it is far more honest to share my sense of humor than some schmoopy card about excitment and hope that I don't really feel.  If you love this card as much as I do you can buy it here.  And if you want to follow a blog that is always a great read check out Jenny here.

I'm off to order my cards and dust off my sewing machine...

"Get over your hill and see what you find there
With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair."
~ After the Storm, Mumford & Sons

And in case you are wondering, yes, taxidermied weasle cards are the epitomy of grace in my heart :)

Infertiles Anonymous

Next week I have the privilege to spend time with Angie* as she prepares for and gives birth to her baby boy who seems bound and determined to make his appearance any day now. Though it may seem odd to the majority of the population that Angie would want me to be anywhere near her when she gives birth to her son (because of the emotions it may stir up) she and I wouldn't have it any other way. We are thick as thieves. Bonded for life. We have shared many good laughs about how weird our relationship must seem to those outside of it. From the inside, though, it feels like it was meant to be. Like that comfortable pair of shoes you've had since High School with your exact footprints molded in. But that is a subject for an entirely different post. This post is about my thoughts as I prepare to drive 10 hours into the land of fertility.

The land of fertility is the mid-sized town in Montana, where Angie lives. Much of my husband's large family lives in the same town. I am ecstatic to see my in-laws as I was extremely blessed with the family I married into. They are hilarious, lots of fun, and health nuts just like me. I wouldn't be raw if it weren't for my mother and father-in-law! However, visiting Montana brings with it quite a bit of anxiety because I will be spending the majority of my time with new and expecting mothers (hence "the land of fertility" title I've given the town). To be completely honest, I usually avoid new and expecting mothers like the plague. I'm not mature enough to be in their presence without lamenting my own conception woes until I eventually burst into tears. But they are my family. I love them. And I can't keep avoiding them.

Luckily, somewhere mid panic attack I thought that perhaps I need to be working on my own 12 Step Recovery Plan and decided to modify the 12 Steps of the Alcoholics Anonymous Program to fit my program (oh, so creatively) called Infertiles Anonymous:

1. I admit that I am powerless over my fertility—that I've allowed it to let my life become unmanageable.

2. I believe that a Power greater than myself can restore me to sanity.

3. I have made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God as I understand Him.

4. I have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of myself.

5. I have admitted to God, to myself, and to another human being the exact nature of my wrongs.

6. I am entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.

7. I have humbly asked Him to remove my shortcomings.

8. I have made a list of all persons I have harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.

9. I have made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

10. I have continued to take personal inventory and when I am wrong promptly admitted it.

11. I have sought through prayer and meditation to improve my conscious contact with God, as I understand Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for me and the power to carry that out.

12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these Steps, I will carry this message to other hurting infertile women and men, and to practice these principles in all my affairs.

 

It made me laugh and cry when I realized how meaningful these steps were to me. I've read and heard in many places that the psychological effects of infertility are on par with those of being diagnosed with a terminal disease. Some people in life are so good at bearing their crosses and making the best of it. By nature, I am not one of those people, though I have always wanted to be. Hopefully this is a good place to start. And I really mean START! I'm not even sure I can say I've completed the first step. But I will continue to write about my process and let you know how it goes.

* For those who don't know, Angie is my son's first mom.

Thankful Thursday: Healing Baby Steps

This week I am thankful for the baby steps I have taken in healing emotionally from my issues with fertility. Previously I would have said that I was still the bitter, jealous, angry, fearful, unworthy woman that I was in June 2007 when I found out I was miscarrying. I still have unresolved issues, misguided anger and resentment and I am still as rediculously passive agressive as ever. Recently, though, a good friend told me she was pregnant and though I immediately burst into tears when she did, I was able to recover pretty quickly.

In the past it has taken me at least an hour of sobbing, an entire package of cookies, and a minimum of 6 episodes of "Jersey Shore" to numb myself after a pregnancy announcement. Literally! I never watched an episode of "Jersey Shore" and even mocked it until the pregnancy announcements came rolling in. I found it was the best alternative to hitting myself in the head with a brick or getting college-drink-til-you-puke drunk.

This progress may be only baby steps but I couldn't be more greatful for it. It is neat when you find healing has taken place when you least expect it. It is like finding $20 in the pocket of a coat you haven't worn since last season. Fingers crossed it will be the impetus for more baby steps and hopefully eventually major strides in healing.