Mother's Day - Do you know the secret?

Do you know the true origin of Mother's Day?

I do.

I read it last night.

This was not a day to celebrate mothers, as noble a cause as that is.

This day was started in 1870 by women who had lost their sons in the Civil War.

Mother's Day was started by bereaved mothers.

It was a a peaceful call to action for women to protect children everywhere. The real feelings of this day started with pain, loss and grief. The *mothers* were honoring their *children*, and each other.

Now we have the 'Mother's Day' we all know. Somewhere in all the celebration, women who are enduring the original feelings of this holiday... pain, loss grief... are pushed aside by many and told that mothers 'deserve to be honored because they work so hard', while their turn to be recognized has to wait until someone calls them "mom", if that day ever comes.

I acknowledge this day for everything it has become, but also for everything it originally was. The women who started this tradition would not want me to simply prop myself up on pillows and wait for my breakfast in bed. They would also want me to seek out and remember those who are bereaved. Those women suffering the loss of a child (born on earth or in utero). Women grieving the loss of their mother. Women walking through the darkness that is the loss of babies they will never know. That 'reaching out' is what this day was all about.

Today, I honor my mom, my sister, my nieces, my friends, any woman who fulfills the original call to reach out to each other and protect a child. I remember those for whom this day is difficult, and I lift them up. Because that, my friends, is what Mother's Day is really all about.

"I will celebrate with you, if you first mourn with me. It is the combination of the two that lends itself to the true meaning of Mother's Day!"
- pregnancylossribbons.blogspot.com

Shadow Hanging Over Christmas

I believe Christmas is about one thing, celebrating the birth of Christ. Sure, there are a lot of other wonderful things about Christmas... family, friends, traditions... but when it comes down to it, it is all about a tiny baby who came to earth to save the world.

Even so, it is hard not to get caught up in the game of "might have been" or "should have been".

Where are my kids to tuck in on Christmas eve? Is this really Ryan's and my 15th Christmas as a couple with no children to share in the magic? Probably the most painful thought is that today I should be coming up on month 5 of my pregnancy and instead my body is the same size it's been for years.

I had images of posing for a picture by the Christmas tree with Ryan, my hand tucked under my growing belly. But that's all gone now.

These thoughts are a shadow hanging over Christmas this year. It takes an enormous amount of effort and strength not to let them take over everything. It is a constant battle, sometimes one that is fought minute by minute.

In our first years of trying to start a family, I would tell myself each Christmas that the next year I would be a mother. I would think, "Hopefully, this Christmas will be the last one just Ryan and I".

Then as the years ticked by, I stopped doing that. It was too heartbreaking as I saw that dream come and go with every passing year.

This year, I am again telling myself that next Christmas things will be different, that next year will be *our* year. This constant promise to myself (as out of my control and as potentially deviating as it is) is sometimes the only thing that holds me together.

All I Want

I don't want a lot for Christmas
There is just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree

I don't need to hang my stocking
There upon the fireplace
Santa Claus won't make me happy
With a toy on Christmas Day

I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
Baby, all I want for Christmas is you :(

Father's Day

Father's Day has always been a bit easier than Mother's Day. Maybe it's because hubby has handled our infertility much more gracefully than I have, I'm not sure. That is why today surprised me... it was harder than I expected.

At church this morning, I watched all of the kids come up to the front and sing to their dads. It was adorable, and achingly sad. I still have no child up there.

The Bishop asked all fathers to stand and receive their treat. Ryan wasn't even there (he was working). So why did it hurt so much not to see him standing up next to me?

When I headed out to my car to leave, I saw kids jumping into minivans and SUVs. I couldn't help but wonder what surprises were waiting for those dads at home. Maybe their favorite item for dinner, or a yummy dessert? A scribbled drawing or just a father's day hug? All things that I knew my husband would not be receiving today.

The day turned when I went to my Dad's tonight. I gave him a long hug and thought of all those out there who don't have their fathers to hold. Those who have dads in the military. People who might not know their dad. Or perhaps those with fathers who have passed away. What these people would give for what I still have...

Finally, I thought of my Father in Heaven. The One who has treated me as only a parent could. He forgives me when I stomp my feet and question why. He feels my pain and understands my frustrations. He withholds blessings, as much as it hurts me, because there is a greater purpose. And when I forget that, He quietly reminds me.

And He reminded me today.

I hope all those dads out there had a wonderful Father's Day. I want to wish my hubby a Happy Father's Day too. Thank you for sacrificing so much to help me become a mom someday.

Yesterday

Seventh Mother's Day trying to become a mom and by far this one was the easiest to get through.

Friday, I came home from work to find a beautiful bouquet from Ryan. He's been buying me flowers a lot lately, and when I asked him why, he said he just felt he should show me how much he loves me more often.

The weekend began with a vivid dream that I was pregnant. I was going about my normal life, but with a happiness I've waited so long for. It felt so real, I considered that dream my little inoculation shot to get me though the weekend.

Both Saturday and Sunday were filled with such love. There were notes, texts, emails, facebook messages, a yummy homemade treat and even a couple special deliveries...

Thank you so much for these, you know who you are. ;)

Sunday morning, I slept in. I received a cute and encouraging email from my mom. I worked on sewing skirts for my nieces. Then, Ryan come home and gave me my first ever Mother's Day card. Yes, that's right. A Mother's Day card for someone who is not a mother. I know some people would disagree with that, but if anyone knows the pain I've been through trying to achieve motherhood, he has...

Here is what was written on the front of the card:

Love means sharing the fun times,
the ordinary times,
and even the challenging times.
It means knowing all the time
that love is sweeter
because it is shared by two.

Inside was a sweet message, including his prediction that my first "official" Mother's Day is very near.

I did go to church the 3rd hour to see my Young Women. I had felt guilty about skipping the first part of church but, once I was there, that guilt faded away. Being there the 3rd hour, it was just like any other Sunday. I have finally learned over the years that I don't have to 'prove myself' on that day. I can just do what I need to do to take care of myself, and that's okay.

The best part of this weekend was doing things for the 'moms' in my life, mine and Ryan's mom and step-mom. It was great to honor each of them.

I will never forget the kindness that was shown to me this weekend. Women who should have been enjoying their special day were reaching out to me. I was awed and humbled by it all. When I finally make it to the other side, and I look into the face of my child, I will see all of you. I am blessed beyond measure. Thank you.

If you don't have anything nice to say on Mother's Day...

I LOVE this post! Happy Mother's Day to every woman: Moms, future Moms, and women with a Mother's Heart.

Written by: Nia Vardalos
Actress/Writer/Director

On May 9th, overpriced flower arrangements will brighten homes, and restaurants will serve multi-calorie brunches. Reminders will be whispered: “hey, be nice to your mom for a minute.”

Sure, Mother’s Day feels a tad manufactured. But if I can get a gift out of this bogus holiday, I’ll take it. Admittedly, I am a giddy idiot on Mother’s Day. I’m also a hypocrite because for a long time I avoided the day as hard as I could. Just the drugstore greeting card rack would make me queasy. I loathed May.

For years, at Spring social gatherings, some women would innocently ask why we didn’t have children. Others would overhear and exclaim what a great father my husband would be, so why on earth didn’t we have kids? When I would give a tight-lipped answer: “we’re trying,” they would not go silent.

They meant well, but they would loudly persist with up-beat advice: stories of this sister or that friend who had tried forever, and then a “miracle” had happened. Others would overhear, and join in. I would instantly feel forehead, upper lip, and low back-sweat from the sudden attention. All I’d wanted was a snack. Now, crudite in hand, I was up against the food table, being advised by pretty, chipper moms bouncing beautiful, pudgy babies on their hips.

A lot of “You Should” advice came my way. From the “latest technique in Europe,” to “just adopt from China” – everyone weighed in. I understood it all came from them wanting to help. It was meant with goodwill. But it was a painful, overwhelming subject for me. I just wanted to throw dip in the air and run. Those were the nice women. Some women were, um, well… they were turds.

The success of my first movie coincided with some awful events in my quest to be a mom. I’ll keep the details private, but quite frankly, it sucked. I was emotionally and physically exhausted.

During this time, I would run into The Coven – a group of not-nice-women. These women had, at one time, been actresses. Now they were married to men in the film industry, or their husbands were in our social circle. They made me nervous.

We all know the type of woman I’m talking about here: the ones who say nasty things to women. The Coven seemed stymied by the fact that they were not working actresses and I, far less attractive, appealing and talented than them, was. Often, I can tell when I walk in a room how people feel about themselves. To the optimist, I represent hope of what is possible. But to the pessimist, I represent the stench of their own perceived failure. I will be the first to admit, wow, I stepped into some good fortune with my first movie. I don’t consider myself particularly special. I got lucky. These women would wholeheartedly agree with my assessment of myself. Sadly, they were not secure women. When they saw me, their mascara’d eyes would shoot daggers at my skull.

Now, as the gossip leaked out that I was struggling to have a child, while these women were on their second and third – they realized they had something over me. They could breed. And I couldn’t.

So, at a casual backyard barbecue, where all were invited to celebrate Mother’s Day, the women of The Coven would surround me, the barren one, to squeal about how “amaaaaazing” their pregnancies had been. How their husbands had looked at them with “awe and gratitude” as they gave birth. How breastfeeding was a “gift.” One woman actually made fun of my anatomy while proclaiming how her body worked “perfectly.” It was sad how they needed to make me feel inadequate, and yes it hurt. And sure, I could have innocently asked: “…did pregnancy hormones grow your moustache, or did you have it before?” But I didn’t. Not because I was so evolved and took the high road… nope, I was scared of them so I would escape as quickly as I could.

Women like this are missing out on real female friendships. Okay, maybe it’s just shoe shopping and cellulite talk, but I value it. I was happy for these women who got to be moms. Why couldn’t they just be kind? It was Mother’s Day after all.

No matter where I went on this day, I was an easy target. If I drank anything non-alcoholic, there were women who would pat my tummy and say “when are you due?” A small social guideline: don’t ask a woman if she is pregnant, unless her water breaks on your flip-flops, a baby arm dangles out of her vagina and she asks you to cut the cord. Then, and only then, may you ask if she is having a baby. Otherwise, shut up.

So, for years, I avoided venturing out on Mother’s Day. I feared the entire day and the feeling of failure it would bring. I would call my sisters, sister-in-law and mom on that day and wish them well. They had the grace and kind-heartedness to never admonish me for not trying this technique, or that plan. My sweet family and my good kind friends never pried. They would always listen when I asked for advice, or when I lost it after the latest route or adoption had fallen through. One good friend even quietly handed me a prayer card.

My own mother is kind, compassionate, ironic, focused, optimistic and above all, discreet. Sadly, some of our friends have lost their mothers. I am thankful for every day I have with mine. My mom possesses all the values I cherish and look for in my friendships and relationships.

And, when my husband and I told our family and friends we’d been matched with our perfect daughter through American Foster Care – their elation was profoundly moving. They welcomed our then three-year-old daughter with a joy and happiness that was beyond anything I could have imagined. There is no limit to the amount of attention, kindness and warmth our families and friends - the “aunties” and “uncles” - shower on our daughter. Over a year later, she is thriving in an environment of love and care.

Some of these people are not parents. Often, at parties, especially on Mother’s Day, these friends and family are the target of the well-meaning questions or downright spiteful comments I myself once endured.

Please, on Mother’s Day, have some compassion. If you see someone without kids, do not ask them why they don’t have children, why they don’t just adopt, or if they are pregnant. Please be kind. Be quiet and pass the dip.

I am writing this for the friends and family who listened, didn’t pry, and above all stuck with me on my quest to be a mom. If I am happy on May 9th, it’s largely because of these people’s quiet empathy and unending encouragement. And, if I am happy on this day, it’s because I am in love with being a mom and so grateful for the circumstances, as painful as they were, that led me to my wonderful daughter. Happy Mother’s Day everyone. I hope you buy some flowers, eat a fattening brunch, and laugh all day.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to go call my mom.

Mother's Day

No two words bring such happiness and such pain as "Mother's Day". I am overwhelmed with love and appreciation for my own mother and full of sadness at my lack of motherhood. It is quite a conundrum!

I recently happened upon this blog posting by a woman who, despite years of treatments, never crossed over into the world of motherhood. Seeing adoption was not an option for her, she had to learn to come to terms with her life as a non-mom. Though I'm sure the pain will always be there, she has made it. And brilliantly!

Mother’s Day: A Cultural Crucible
By Pamela Mahoney Tsigdinos

The last week of April and first weeks of May have for years felt like their own special form of hell week. Each year it’s the same. First the signs, banners and fliers start showing up everywhere humans congregate — in grocery stores, outside restaurants, liberally scattered around malls and shopping centers. Then the fiber-optic lines light up carrying headlines and advertisements with unsolicited, mocking reminders of what might have been.

There’s simply no making it stop. Mother’s Day, for a portion of society accustomed to being invisible, is a cultural crucible to be endured. There’s literally no escape even at sacred houses of worship or at movie theaters, the once safe place to tune out the world. (This year the feel-good movie of the season is called simply, “Babies.”)

For me, the emotional torture reached its peak a few years ago when I was newly aware that motherhood would forever remain a concept, a theoretical — not an actual experience I would ever know intimately. More than a decade of trying to conceive with increasing amounts of surgeries and medical intervention had proved unsuccessful.

Ultrasound images of embryos we once cautiously affixed to the refrigerator amid the smiling faces of our family and friends’ children soon found their way into a manila folder along with stacks of doctor forms, prescription regimens and reproductive endocrinology reports. My husband and I found ourselves for a time in limbo assigned to the confounding category of “unexplained” infertility. There were, we were soon to discover, no membership kits, no bonding rituals, no themed parties, no special holidays for the involuntarily childless set.

It wasn’t that I became thin-skinned as a nonmom among the mommy set. It felt rather like I had no skin at all. The sight of a pregnant woman could ruin my day in an instant. But that was only the beginning. I had the unfortunate timing of trying to cope with and mourn the losses associated with infertility at what I’m sure will be remembered as the zenith of the mommy-and-me phenomenon. Mom’s clubs, mommy bloggers and helicopter parents took off like wildfire just about the time my uterus was declared officially closed for business. My barrenness also collided with an onslaught of reality TV shows showcasing supersized families, from the Gosselins to the Duggars. And just to make things really weird, along came Octomom.

This year I’m finding the signs and advertisements don’t elicit the emotional rash they once did.

I no longer have the urge to hit the reply button sending scathing responses to e-mail marketers asking how I planned to celebrate motherhood. Mother’s-Day-brunch providers and flower shops urging early reservations no longer cause me to feel like an outcast among women. I can only conclude that I have crossed the threshold to a once elusive zenlike acceptance.

Amid a societal celebration of all things maternal, I was forced to grow a skin much thicker than I ever imagined. Much like regular inoculations sensitize allergy sufferers to irritating substances, I’m much less reactive to the whole motherhood thing in general. In fact, I’ve developed a powerful protective instinct for women who are today where I once was — lost, angry, sad and mourning the dreams they once held so dear.

This year when the fill-in-the-blank (pastor, priest, minister, rabbi, etc.) asks all women in the congregation who are mothers to stand to be recognized, you might take a closer look at the women who remain seated. There are many among them grateful that only a few hours remain to be endured in the annual Mother’s Day season.

You've Come A Long Way, Baby!

I did not cry this Easter weekend. Not one tear. Even when I:

• spent nearly the entire day at home by myself.
• had no one to teach the true Easter story to.
• read Facebook postings about all the Easter Egg hunts going on and the cute Easter outfits that my friends' kids wore.
• had no Easter basket to prepare because there was no one to give it to.
• listened to Church Conference that included many talks on parenting, with one talk focused entirely on motherhood.
• had no reason to get up at the crack of dawn and hide eggs.

Instead, I:

• spent hours and hours preparing and executing a fundraiser for my Young Women so they can all attend Girls' Camp at little/no cost to them.
• listened to Church Conference and took away from it those things that matter to me right now.
• made a lemon cake for my family to enjoy.
• spent all day sewing skirts for my nieces.
• said lots of little prayers throughout the day.
• bought a couple favorite Easter candies and ate them all myself.

Compared to the Easters in years past, I felt I made it through this one quite well! No pity parties. When I felt one coming on, I just tried to change my thinking. I concentrated on serving others, while doing little things for myself too. I tried to think about the true meaning of Easter, and how it pertained to me.

I wonder if someday, when Easter has become the fun and chaotic madness it is when you have children, I will look back at this Easter with fond memories. The Easter I spent all alone. Interesting thought.

Holidays

When I was a teenager, I loved Valentine's Day. I thought the legend behind it was sweet, and I always looked forward to celebrating the "day of love".

For some reason, I always had a boyfriend or an admirer at that time of year. I didn't plan it that way, it just always happened. As Valentine's Day would roll around, I felt no dread, only excitement about the potential surprises that awaited me from whatever love interest I had at that time. I was also anxious to surprise him with something fun.

I'm sure I thought about those who had no romantic prospects. I consider myself an empathetic person, for the most part. I must have experienced a fleeting consideration for those who found that day to be depressing and lonely. Seemingly, however, I must have moved on quite quickly to the excitement of my day.

I have no doubt that, should motherhood have come easily, I would have had the same attitude toward Mother's Day. Consumed in the pleasures that came with celebrating and being celebrated, I imagine any thoughts about those left out would have been brief. I know I would have felt sad for those who had no mother to celebrate, but I hesitate to think I would have remembered those who remained childless.

Among the millions of people living in this country, there were surely millions who felt pain this Mother's Day. Some were people who's mother passed away. Others were people who never knew their mother or are estranged from their mother. Also, there were mothers hurting because they have lost their children and those mothers whose husbands / children did not make Mother's Day special for them, leaving them disappointed. And, of course, there are the women who could not become mothers.

When Father's Day rolls around, these same painful feelings will be felt by a whole new set of people.

This Mother's Day, I reflected on holidays in general and found myself dividing them into two categories: event oriented and people oriented. Event oriented holidays would include those holidays that celebrate an event: Easter, 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc.

The second set celebrates people. There are holidays that celebrate groups of people in a community sense, such as Veteran's Day. Then there are the holidays that celebrate individual people in a relationship sense: Mother's Day, Father's Day, even Valentine's Day.

Now I'll throw something out there... Do we really need these 'relationship' holidays? I'm not saying we don't. It was just an interesting thought to explore.

We have Valentine's Day to celebrate the love between two people. Couldn't that be done on an anniversary? And in a much classier, personalized, and intimate way? No more paying $200 for a sad vase of flowers and trying to make reservations in an over-crowded, over-priced restaurant. You celebrate your love on a day that is special to YOU. Or you could celebrate these people just because you love them. I have to say that I don't remember many things Ryan did for me on various Valentine's Days, but I'll never forget the random day he sent me flowers just because.

Likewise, Mother's Day and Father's Day are there to show our parents how much we love and appreciate them. Couldn't this also be done on a day that special to your relationship? Their birthday? YOUR birthday? What about sending a note to mom, or taking Dad out to dinner just because you love them. Seems this would mean so much more. No longer is your kind gesture perceived as fulfilling a societal obligation, but it is now a token of selfless giving. I would love to wake up and find my children greeting me with soggy cereal and burnt toast on a random Saturday morning, not because it was Mother's Day and it was expected.

I know mothers work hard and are often times unappreciated. I fully believe that having a day to honor them is wonderful. I enjoyed visiting with my Mom this year on Mother's Day. I look forward to sharing Mother's Day with my children someday.

But even when that day comes, I know that Mother's Day in my eyes will always be different than it would have been, had motherhood come easy. I will never be able to enjoy it as carefree as I enjoyed those Valentine's Days long ago. A little bit of the innocence and blissful naivete has been lost. On that day, my thoughts will always wonder toward that 'other' group of women: the ones gritting their teeth, swallowing their tears, and praying for the day to be over.

Mother's Day: Take 6

So, Mother’s Day… You would think after 5 previous heart-breaking Mother’s Days, I’d be used to it by now! Well, this one was better than some, and I made it through alright. I had one tiny breakdown in the shower, but the day seemed to get better as time progressed.

The following is a memoir of my day. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Notice how the good completely outweighs the bad…

The Good:
- Having my parents over that evening for dessert.
- Giving my mom a card and a poem.
- Having my mom alive, healthy, and able to celebrate with me.
- Avoiding having to stand there with all the ‘real’ moms at church to accept my “Mother’s Day treat”
- My Bishop saving me a “Mother’s Day treat”, finding me in the hallway to give it to me, and offering words of encouragement.
- Getting to be in Sunday School and the Young Women’s classes. The Sunday School lesson was on the Sabbath Day and the YW lesson was on the Priesthood. No ‘Mom’ references anywhere! Last year, I was in Primary, helping the kids make something for their moms and answering their questions about why I’m not a mom, even though I’m old. (Good luck explaining infertility to a 7-year-old!)
- Taking my usual Sunday nap, and wondering how many moms actually get to do that on Sundays.
- Emails and cards from dear friends who were thinking about me. People who asked how I was doing. You know who you are. That was above and beyond. It’s nice not to be completely ignored on Mother’s Day!
- Did I mention the “Mother’s Day treat” was See’s Candy???

The Bad:
- Almost having to teach the young women’s lesson last minute. I had horrid visions flash before my eyes that the topic would be Motherhood.
- Carrying anxiety that at any moment someone could say something that would make me lose it.
- Having to answer, “No, I’m not a mom” to the people who asked.
- The general feeling of bitterness that I kept swallowing down all day, and the guilt that comes from such a feeling.

The Ugly:
- Logging into Facebook to see page after page of friends wishing other “mommy friends” a happy Mother’s Day. Not to take away from their celebration, it was just hard reading about the sweet things their children were doing for them. Made me excited for the future, but sad for the present.

So there is the breakdown. Not too shabby!

A couple years ago, there was a total meltdown that led to the breaking of a COMMANDMENT in the frantic search of solace. As LDS church members, we believe in keeping the Sabbath Day holy. Part of that is not shopping, going out to eat, etc on Sunday. Well, that Mother’s Day was so bad, as I was sobbing in the front seat, Ryan drove me straight to Baskin Robbins. When I looked up and wondered why we were there, he simply said, “Get out of the car. We’re getting ice cream.” The poor guy didn’t know what else to do with me!

As I said, I’ve had worse. This one, not so bad! Maybe they’ll get better over time?

Only 363 days until I find out! Let the countdown to next Mother's Day begin…

------------------------------------

This Mother’s Day post will be continued. I have been having some interesting thoughts about Mother’s Day, and certain holidays in general, which I plan to share at a later time.

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.

--------------------------------------

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

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.

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.”

----------------------------------------------

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.