Tuesday, December 30, 2008

Friends

One of the worst ‘side-effects’ to infertility is lost friends.

Some people change in an instant, such as the chameleon. They used to be where you were and now they are not. I don’t know if it is ‘survivor’s guilt’, or if they feel they are on to the next stage of life and don’t want a reminder of the pain in the past. Maybe they just don’t know what to say, so they disappear. People who used to regularly read my journal entries and commiserate with me have moved on. As happy as I am for them, I do miss them.

Then there are the friends that have never dealt with infertility, and are excited to be there to support you and hold your hand. But they have no idea how long this process can be and, after a while, they grow tired from it. They are starting their families and growing in that way. Soon, it becomes obvious there is nothing left to talk about. The phone calls fade away, then emails, and finally you simply wave hi when you pass by. Your friend has become an associate.

I understand how this happens. When I was younger, I had a friend who struggled with an eating disorder. I did everything I could think of to help her, including ‘pretending’ I had it too, so I could go with her to support groups (she refused to go alone). This went on for a few years. Finally, I couldn’t take it! I felt I couldn’t help her anymore. I was tired of her pain and depression dictating my life too. So, once I was sure she was getting professional help, I faded away. I’ve been there, I understand.

I think back to years ago. I had several friends when I was a newlywed. We were getting married and excited for what life had in store. We would make wedding plans, complain about our apartments, and basically discuss everything that came with that new stage of life.

Then, time moved on, and so did they. I stayed here… in “Newlywed Land” while they jetted off to “Babyville”. They found other people to discuss things with: breast pumps, bottle feeding, potty training. I don’t blame them; it makes sense. I don’t know a thing about any of that and, most of the time, I try not to even go there. But losing them still hurts.

I sometimes wonder about the day I join them, when I finally have a family of my own. Will they re-enter my life as if nothing ever happened? Will I find new friends who are just beginning their families and we will share our experiences together? Will I feel relieved or bitter about the reigniting of a friendship simply because of a change in my circumstances?

Infertility or not, perhaps friends are always fluid. Maybe you are close with certain people during a time in your life you need them, or they need you. Once that need is fulfilled, you grow apart, and new friends emerge.
Then, of course, there are those friends you’ll have forever. They support you now when times are tough, and you return the favor for them. I have so much support around me.

I have friends who I met through this journey, and I will always be your friend, supporting, encouraging, and crying with you. Even if by some miracle I am blessed with motherhood, you will never loose me. I know how it feels to be forgotten.

I have friends who were there at the beginning of this mess, and will still be there at the end, despite the bumpy road between. Words can’t express my gratitude. And when life deals you an ugly hand, as it does to each of us at some point, I will return the favor.

I have friends who dealt with infertility and beaten it, but are not scared to leave me words of encouragement anyway. Those are few, but much appreciated. I hope to be you someday for someone else.

And I have friends who just can’t be friends now, our lives are too different, but will be waiting with open arms when I catch up someday. What a wonderful reunion that will be!

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Christmas and two miracles

I belong to a LDS group of women dealing with infertility. I don't say much, but I learn from their examples and lean on them for support. Many have reached out for comfort and guidance during this holiday season. Krista, the founder of the group, has reminded us that Christmas is the story of miraculous births. I have been thinking about this a lot this month. When God wants something to be, it will be.

The miraculous birth we celebrate at Christmas, of course, is the baby Jesus born to a virgin Mary. This is the greatest blessing God could give the world. The Bible reads, 'For unto US is born this day'. Jesus wasn't just born to Mary, but to all of us, even those who have no children of our own.

Prior to this immaculate conception, was another miracle.

In Judea, there was a priest named Zacharias who was married to Elisabeth. The bible describes them as 'righteous before God, walking in all the commandments and ordinances of the Lord blameless'.

Unfortunately, Elisabeth was barren and they had no children. In those days, fertility was thought of as a sign of favor before God. I could not imagine the loneliness that Elisabeth must have felt as she grew older and motherhood slipped away.

One day, the angel Gabriel came to Zacharias while he was working at the temple, and spoke these words:

Fear not, Zacharias: for thy prayer is heard; and thy wife Elisabeth shall bear thee a son, and thou shalt call his name John. And thou shalt have joy and gladness; and many shall rejoice at his birth.

Zacharias could not believe these words. Elisabeth was too old to have a baby. Because of his unbelief, he was struck dumb. Zacharias stayed in the temple for a long time, thinking about what Gabriel had told him.

Soon, Elisabeth did conceive. Said she,

Thus hath the Lord dealt with me in the days wherein he looked on me, to take away my reproach (barrenness) among men.

Not too long after, Elisabeth's cousin Mary was also visited by an angel. Mary learned she would be the mother of the Son of God.

And a few months later:

Now Elisabeth’s full time came that she should be delivered; and she brought forth a son.

And her neighbours and her cousins heard how the Lord had shewed great mercy upon her; and they rejoiced with her.

And it came to pass, that on the eighth day they came to circumcise the child; and they called him Zacharias, after the name of his father.

And his mother answered and said, Not so; but he shall be called John.

And the child grew, and waxed strong in spirit, and was in the deserts till the day of his shewing unto Israel.

Anytime I begin to have the irrational fear that my infertility is some sort of punishment from God, I remember this story (and others like it). I am no Elisabeth (not even close), but I can gain strength from her example and the knowledge that God has a plan for each of us.

So today, on Christmas, the day we celebrate the miracle of all miracles, I want to take a moment and think of Luke 1:31

For with God nothing shall be impossible.

Merry Christmas.

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I have always loved this Christmas carol, but it has grown to mean so much more to me over the last several years. It urges gratitude for today and offers hope for a happier tomorrow.

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Let your heart be light
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight

Have yourself a merry little Christmas
Make the Yuletide gay
From now on, our troubles will be far away

Through the years, we all will be together
If the fates allow
Hang a shining star upon the highest bough
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now

Monday, December 15, 2008

Stunned

Yes, that is the right word for it. Something happened last week that left me stunned.

I have a friend who has been going through a tough time for a while. Finally, after a lot of soul searching, praying, and perhaps desperation, she realized that she needed professional help. Having been there, I empathized with what she was going through and was so proud that she had taken the first step towards recovery. It is not easy.

My friend sought out a therapist and met with her. As they talked, her therapist begun to recognize symptoms of depression. She suggested my friend may want to see her doctor about taking an anti-depressant. This is understandable. My therapist told me the same thing. I chose not to go that way right now, but I know it's an option if I need to. If I can't get out of bed because the pain is so great, I have a refuge.

And my friend was already at that point.

She summoned the courage and went to the doctor. Because of insurance issues, this was actually a new doctor to her. When my friend expressed her feelings and suggestions by her therapist, her doctor shot her down cold, and was extremely uncompassionate.

In an effort to vent her frustrations, as well as help anyone else feeling this way and thinking they are alone, she did what I am doing now: bore her soul in a blog posting about the entire situation.

You would think that such an honest and exposed telling of her most dark secret would be met with compassion, right? If someone didn't have something nice to say, they probably would have moved along, right? Even if someone had a differing view, they would have presented it in a caring and compassionate manner, right? You would think.

But, you would be wrong! Although most comments were supportive, my friend was told by an "anonymous" poster that she was (among other things):

Looking for the "cure all" pill

Medication was 'a little excessive'

She needed to 'just face it, life its hard'

She just needed to 'pray everyday and night, read her scriptures and let the Lord help with her burdens'.

And 'try a little faith first before popping the pills'


Apparently, this person was able to make all these judgements and conclusions from one simple story. In reality, it was my friend's prayers and guidance that led her to seek help in the first place.

'God helps those who help themselves'.

Can I ask this: When did we as women decide to turn on each other? What leads us to believe we can judge each other and pull each other down? What benefit does that have to anyone? What happened to compassion, acceptance, and love? After all we have learned about depression and mental illness, why is there still a stigma associated with it?

If a young mother is depressed and is denied help, who are we to judge if and when things go devastatingly wrong? A woman is judged for seeking help, but then judged for the ramifications of not doing so.

When I read this person's comments, I was stunned. Stunned at the ignorance, stunned at the insensitivity, and stunned at the cowardly way these feelings were expressed. Perhaps this person cares for my friend and was trying to help, but you sure couldn't tell that from the awful way she attacked her.

The next time any of us sees a sister in crisis, I hope we will shut our mouths and open our arms. Share your opinion if need be, but cushion it with love and compassion. A hand to hold is worth a thousand pieces of advice.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Holidays

This post is going to seem like a dramatic contradiction from my last one. And it shouldn't be. I really am trying to find joy in this journey, and some kind of happiness this holiday season. And I have been successful for the most part.

Let me just say I am really looking forward to Christmas and celebrating the reason for the season, the birth of Jesus Christ. I know all those other things - Santa, presents, etc etc, are just fluff. But it is impossible to avoid it, and to not imagine sharing these things with my child too.

As for the actual holiday season (Christmas Day excluded), it can't be over soon enough. While I am keeping my chin up as much as possible, some nights are just really hard. And tonight was one of them.

Holidays can be SO hard for people who are struggling, not just with infertility, but with any of life's challenges. For someone struggling with money problems, it could be the fear of having nothing for your children for Christmas. For someone struggling with the loss of a parent, Mother's or Father's Day would be difficult. For someone who is lonely, Valentine's Day can hurt.

I have always been a person who treasures traditions and celebrations. Watching holiday after holiday pass by, year after year, can feel devastating at times.

I read this blog entry recently. The author, Lisa, describes what each holiday feels like in the world of infertility. I have a lot of experience writing out my own thoughts, and that is helpful. But nothing prepares you to read someone else's words describe your feelings so precisely. Yes, it is dark and depressing, but I have had all these thoughts. I usually try to put on a positive face, but they are there, even though I wish I could say they weren't. Tears fell as I read my experiences of each holiday for the last five years, as told by Lisa.

The year starts off easy enough...

New Years -- This is where we make all those resolutions, or in the case of an infertile, their hopes and dreams and goals for the year ahead. We tell ourselves that this is going to be our year! We are not going to face another new Year's without a child. We are going to do whatever it takes to reach our dreams this year. And we kiss, still crushed from the year prior, but with a renewed hope for the year to come. This is going to be our year -- it has to be.

Valentines Day -- Finally, a holiday that doesn't remind us of children! It's all about love. Only, we are pumped up on drugs, or so exhausted from treatments, that it's hard to enjoy. Not to mention, in the back of our minds, we know all those other couples, sitting around us, eating their dinner, have children they get to go home to. Valentine's cards to help them write out. Little hearts and chocolates to scatter around the house in anticipation of little excited faces.

March Break -- On the heels of Valentines Day comes March break. Children abound, as families pack up to enjoy a fun week together somewhere. But not you. No, you plough forward, head down, trying not to notice.

Easter -- Next comes Easter. The stores are filled with reminders of children. Everywhere you look is a reminder of what you are missing. Easter bunnies, Easter baskets, Easter egg hunts. Pretty spring children's dresses. Excited little faces and happy families are everywhere. You long to be part of an easter egg hunt of your own, but instead, you close your eyes and hope you just make it through.

Mothers Day -- As if Easter wasn't bad enough, Mother's Day is close behind. A slap in the face to infertiles everywhere. You are not a mother and you wonder if you ever will be. You do not get breakfast in bed, a hand drawn card, a hug from that sweet little child telling you they love you. It's a painful reminder of what you will never have, and what everyone around you gets so easily. It's almost too much to bear, as you watch others enjoy what you long for so badly.

Fathers Day -- Of course Father's Day is right behind. Happy children and their dads, out to brunch, playing golf, fishing, enjoying the day together. You think of your husband and what he is missing. You can't help picturing him as a father, knowing how good he would be. You imagine your own children taking his hand and hopping up on his lap, smiling up at him. Their dad. Their hero. And you can't help from thinking how robbed he is, when you see the pain on his face.

Summer Holidays -- One of the best times of year for family fun. Kids are out of school. Everywhere you look are happy families picnicking, going to the park, the beach. And you long to be one of them. The carefree days of summer are everywhere. Long weekends and camping trips. Innocent times and bonding and memories being created that will last a life time. Yet, you still cannot join in the fun.

Weddings -- Of course, what would the summer be without weddings. You watch, as other couples get married, knowing that soon, their dreams will come true, and they will be blessed with families before you. You think back to your wedding, how excited and hopeful you were for the future together. All the family plans you had, the big house, the fun family trips. And it's painful to watch it come true for everyone else but you.

Baby showers -- Invites to baby showers come fast and furious. You can't even bear to open the envelope. You shop for other peoples' children, holding back the lump in your throat, trying not to breathe, and maybe you will get through it.

Birthdays -- Next comes your birthday. But you have nothing to celebrate. It's just a painful reminder that you are another year older, another year has passed without a child. Your chances are decreasing every single day. And you can't bear to blow out your candle, yet again, and make the only wish you have been wishing. Because it still hasn't come true.

Anniversaries -- Your wedding anniversary is upon you, and it's time to celebrate your love. The one thing that keeps you going through all the pain. But unfortunately, it's also an anniversary where you both will mourn another year passing without a child. The family you haven't created.

Back to School -- Back to school has become a season these days. You look around at all the stores, all the little knapsacks, and school supplies. Your nieces and nephews are getting older. Friend's children are growing up before your eyes. Life is moving forward without you. You can't help but feel like it's completely passing you by.

Halloween -- As the autumn leaves fall, families are huddled up carving pumpkins together, making candy apples, playing in the falling leaves. And Halloween rolls around quickly. Parents dress up little angels, princesses, and monsters in the cutest outfits you have ever seen. You dread the day as it grows darker, knowing that soon, happy little children will be knocking on your door, saying trick or treat. And you will barely be able to keep yourself from crying. You think about everything you are missing. You long to be taking your own children out from house to house. And you end the night, a puddle on the floor, sobbing your eyes out, wishing you could hide away forever.

Thanksgiving -- The season of family is officially upon you. Happy families get together to share turkey and rejoice in all that they have to be thankful for. Just the thought of another holiday where you still don't have your own family to share it with, tortures you beyond belief. You have a hard time thinking of anything to be thankful for, let alone, sharing the holiday with family and friends who have everything you want. Everyone has a family except for you, and the pain cuts so deep you don't think you will survive it.

Christmas -- The holiday season is upon you in no time. The pinnacle of holidays is finally here. Christmas is the motherload, the holiday of all holidays. The one you have been dreading all year. For it is the season of children and dreams and families and miracles. For everyone but you. Little stocking hanging from the fireplace, ornaments on the tree, hopes of Santa, snowmen on front lawns, Christmas parades, hot chocolate, cold little toes and noses and happy laughter fills the air. The stores bellow out Christmas music. Commercials celebrate families and children. Movies are filled with the magic of family. Christmas lights and Santa sleighs, and nativity scenes are everywhere. Christmas cards arrive in the mail, all those happy smiling family pictures and updates from friends and families. The magic of the season is everywhere, all around you, suffocating you, choking you to death. The pain has never been so great, so real, and so deep. You envy everyone you see. You can barely venture out your front door. It is the happiest season of all, a season you once loved, a season you wonder if you will ever love again. A season that now pulls you under with such grief that you are sure you will die. But you don't die. You survive. As you brace yourself for the upcoming New Year and the whole new calendar that comes with it.

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Joy in the Journey

The ancient Roman philosopher Horace admonished, “Whatever hour God has blessed you with, take it with grateful hand, nor postpone your joys from year to year, so that in whatever place you have been, you may say that you have lived happily.”

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Last night, I had a long talk with a good friend about trying to live in the here and now. The overwhelming theme I walked away with was 'just survive today'. How do I get through today?

In October, we had a church-wide conference, full of talks by various church members and leaders. I chose not to watch at that time. Why? Not because I didn't want to hear the messages, but because we do not know ahead of time topics that will be addressed. Back in October, I decided I wasn't strong enough to handle listening to a talk on 'parenting' or 'raising a family' or 'motherhood'. So, instead, I ordered all the talks on CD. I figured I could listen to them one at a time, in whatever order I wanted. And if there was a talk that I just wasn't ready to hear, I could save it for another day.

My CD came in the mail yesterday, and this morning I skimmed the titles. I paused on Thomas S. Monson's talk, 'Finding Joy in the Journey'. So similar to my conversation the previous evening, I decided to listen to this talk on the way to work.

Halfway through the talk, President Monson repeated the quote written above 'Whatever hour God has blessed you with, take it with grateful hand, nor postpone your joys from year to year, so that in whatever place you have been, you may say that you have lived happily.'

How many years have I been postponing my joy, waiting to start a family, to finally be 'truly happy'?

Thinking about this time of year specifically, how many Christmases have I spent thinking, "Maybe this will be our last Christmas just the two of us" or "By next Christmas, maybe I'll be a mom, or at least have the promise of being a mom soon"? How many Christmases have I mentally counted the number of children I should have by now, the ages they'd be, the gifts they'd ask for, their faces as they sang Christmas carols or saw the lit tree for the first time.

No matter the happiness and gratitude, there is a cloud over every holiday, as thoughts like these take residence in my mind.

I would love to say I have lived happily, no matter what place I was. I am trying to do that, but some days it is just so hard. I feel that sometimes, for me personally, it is impossible to simply choose to be happy. At one time I felt I could do that, but lately I've struggled.

However, I can always choose to try. To pick myself up, and forge ahead.

I am no different than anyone else dealing with something difficult in their life. Good days, bad days, but forging ahead anyway. There are people who have lost a loved one, a job, a friend, a dream. And we are all pressing on. This is life.

Quoting again from President Monson's talk: In The Music Man, Professor Harold Hill, one of the principal characters in the show, voices a caution that I share with you. Says he,

“You pile up enough tomorrows, and you’ll find you’ve collected a lot of empty yesterdays.”

So, here's to today, this season, this Christmas, this New Year. Worry about next year... next year. It's a day-by-day, minute-by-minute decision. And just trying is enough for now.
FAITH IN GOD MEANS HAVING FAITH IN HIS TIMING.