Bread and Stones

For me, the past three months have been all about learning the difference between bread and stones, and realizing that sometimes what I think are stones actually turn out to be bread. Blessings and trials-one and the same. Oh, what a complicated path we all walk. 

Six weeks ago, I walked away from a full-time teaching position at a great school after my first day of training and orientation. I had spent nearly six months anticipating what this new position would bring to my life, feeling unsure and unsettled about the opportunity the entire time. Sometimes, you do what you feel is necessary to take care of your family, like accepting a job that you have very mixed feelings about. And sometimes Heavenly Father smacks you over the head with a two-by-four less than a week before students arrive and tells you to get the heck out of dodge. So I cried the whole way home from my first day of training, had a very long talk with my amazing and supportive husband, prayed and asked for guidance, and drove the hour commute the next morning at 6 AM to inform the director of the school that I was resigning. I felt as if I were begging for bread and kept receiving nothing but stones to satiate my hunger.

Here's the thing-this job would have precluded me from doing everything I need to do to make sure we have a family. There is nothing on this earth more important to me than my current and future family. And at 29, I don't have the luxury of time or flexibility to play the waiting game any longer. I need to aggressively pursue my options to make a baby a reality-whether that is through fertility treatments or adoption. A two to three hour daily commute, severely restrictive leave policies, an insanely demanding schedule for uncompensated work time, and a seriously bad feeling in the pit of my stomach meant that my only choice was to walk away. Leaving this position turned out to be bread after all. 

But walking away blew up ALL of our life plans in a matter of seconds. No dual income. No chance to save for adoption or fertility treatments. No life that we had dreamed of and anticipated. 

God has a way of guiding you through the stormiest of times and bringing you back into a safe harbor. In the midst of all of this turmoil, I felt His hand guiding us toward a new and better route. Even though the trip has been scary, and the hard times are likely far from over, we know that we are in His hands, and that He will never, ever leave us. And He will teach us the difference between bread and stones.

Within a week of leaving my full-time position, I was set up to regularly substitute teach at a local elementary charter school. In the next few weeks, I will begin back-to-back long-term subbing positions at this school, working full-time until at least February. The school is amazing, is less than 10 minutes from home, and is exactly what I needed in my life at this moment. My sweet husband was given the opportunity to work from home and was also was promoted and given a substantial raise. We have seen the Lord's hand in our life, handing us bread, the essence of life, making up for what we lost, and leading us to something better and more fulfilling. Things still are not easy, but they are definitely looking up. 

Which brings us to the most important goal of all-operation baby. Now that I am working close to home, I have the time and ability to attend my needed fertility appointments. In August, after my HSG procedure, I was referred to a Reproductive Endocrinologist at the Utah Center for Reproductive Medicine, part of the University of Utah medical services. My potentially arcuate uterus needs further study, and my wacky periods and ovulation need more evaluation. 

BJ and I left bright and early this morning for our appointment with Dr. Peterson. I was nervous and excited and really anxious. After spending fifteen minutes trying to find the office and arriving late, my blood pressure was through the roof and wouldn't even register on the machine. The nurse was very patient with us as I calmed down and returned to some semblance of normalcy. A million questions about our medical histories later, the doctor joined us and our short, sweet and productive meeting commenced.

Basically, Dr. Peterson laid out a short term plan to get us pregnant as quickly and naturally as possible. Today, I had a blood test to check my AMH levels to tell us how many viable eggs I have left. Next Friday, I have an internal ultrasound scheduled to evaluate ammenorrhea, or painful periods, to make sure I don't have endometriosis...which is also a convenient way to have an insurance-covered diagnostic ultrasound done to check my arcuate uterus and the development of my egg follicles this month (since we scheduled the ultrasound on cycle day 11). As long as things check out okay with my uterus and I don't have endometriosis (which is very unlikely), and I have a developing egg follicle, I will get a shot to stimulate ovulation. Several days later, they will mix my hubby's little swimmers with the equivalent of Red Bull to get them good and energized, and we will do an intra-uterine insemination procedure. This could potentially all happen by the 21st or 22nd of October, so it is moving very quickly. We will do one natural cycle of this approach, and if it does not work (or I do end up presenting with endometriosis), we will move to a maximum of three medicated cycles of Clomid, Red Bull for the little guys, and IUI procedures with follicle ultrasound monitoring. Right now, it feels like bread is raining down from heaven.

Phew-that is a lot of words. But it is a PLAN. A REAL PLAN. We are so grateful for it, and for a team of doctors that want us to get pregnant quickly and naturally. It may or may not be successful. But we are going to give it everything we have and work through these next four months (hopefully only one!) with faith and vigor. 

These last three months have been pretty hellish for us. Disappointment piles up and begins to choke you out of your own life. Walking away from that job was the first time I have felt sunshine in my life in a long time. Having new opportunities and blessings presented to us increased the light in my life. Today, our amazing doctor blew the rest of the clouds away and let the sunshine stream into our lives with his amazing gifts and talents. We are cautiously optimistic, but so hopeful at the end of the day, because we know the Master is in control, and can see so far past what we can ever imagine.

One of my favorite songs offers a window into how I feel on the days that I am both discouraged and uplifted. I never knew it was possible to have both of these feelings at once. But infertility opens windows and doors into emotions I never knew existed. My struggle is my own. Others may try for years for a baby and never arrive at that result. I may be one of those women. But the words in this song help me to hold on when I feel the need to despair (so what if walking through Deseret Book and hearing it playing makes me burst into tears in front of other customers). And as the last notes fade away, I feel nothing but hope that we will somehow, someday, be parents. In the song, "Better Promises," Hillary Weeks sings, 

"You gave me bread, 

but I thought it was a stone, 

and before You could tell me yes, 

You had to tell me no. 

If you had given me what I wanted, 

I would not have seen, 

that You had better promises for me."

I know that He has better promises for me. Promises greater than I can ever imagine. Perhaps BJ and I needed more preparation to become parents. Maybe we needed BJ's promotion and raise. Possibly, I needed to have an Abraham and Isaac moment with my faith and was tested with confusing job opportunities. We may be people that Dr. Peterson needs to bless with his incredible gifts and talents. We most definitely need to learn patience. And maybe there is a baby out there who may come to us through adoption. We don't know. But I know that He will calm us so we can ride out the storm, and if we reach out our hands, we can walk to Him on the rough waters of life. 

So internal ultrasound and (more likely than not) IUI, here we come. 

Step one on the journey of the rest of our lives.

Step one in realizing that what we believe to be stones may be bread after all. 

Expectations and Extremity

In my heart, I always believed that my I would be pregnant at the same time as my best friend, Aly, and Meredith Grey. Yes, Meredith Grey from "Grey's Anatomy."

It sounds totally nutters, but I am completely serious. Best friend and I have this intense soul-mateish relationship, a lot like Cristina and Meredith on Grey's Anatomy. She is my person. When one of us is having a hard day, the other can kick our butt out of bed and get us motivated. Or we can just watch endless hours of Netflix on the couch and be completely satisfied by just being. It is a special bond that can never be replicated. So, naturally, in my mind, Aly, Meredith and I would all be having babies together.

Imagine my disappointment when stupid Meredith Grey got pregnant before I did. I wanted to hit the TV and tell her that she has too many unresolved emotional issues to be bringing a child into the world. For heaven's sake, the girl was almost blown up by a bomb in a body cavity, quasi-committed suicide and died and came back to life, and messed with a clinical drug trial that could have cured Alzheimer's. It is not fair that she gets an adopted baby, a biological baby, and Patrick Dempsey. Ugh. 

Then, back in March, on my birthday, best friend calls me to tell me she is pregnant, and expecting her little bundle of cafe con leche joy (the baby of lily-white best friend and caramel Mexican husband is sure to be beautiful) in November. I was genuinely, completely, and absolutely thrilled for her. In every possible way. She will be an incredible mother, and her husband will be a wonderful father. I had none of the Meredith Grey-induced rage when Aly told me she was pregnant. We talked for a good hour about how important it was for her to tell me, because it would have been far worse not to tell out of fear of hurting me. So naturally, when we hung up the phone, and I looked down at my 9 month old niece that I was babysitting, I burst into tears. It is incredible how something so joyful, beautiful and incredibly happy can reduce me to a blubbering, bawling mess of a woman. I am not jealous. I am not angry. But I am aching inside and beyond disappointed that I am not part of this great fantasy of a pregnancy triumvirate that I have dreamed about for so long. 

Best friend and I talked today about them finding out the gender of baby Jimenez next week. I am thrilled for them. And I spent the better part of tonight wiping away tears as I mourned what feels like an incredible loss to me. I don't know how it is possible to mourn the loss of something you never had. Perhaps I am mourning what feels like the loss of a dream. I may never know exactly what this feeling is, but I know that it is all tangled up with feelings of happiness and joy for the person I am closest to in this life besides my husband. There must be something absolutely exquisite and wonderful on the other side of this personal hell, because I cannot see any other reason behind having to experience this gut-wrenching back and forth of emotions. 

Several years ago, before I met my husband, I experienced what was absolutely the most horrendous break-up of my life. I felt like my soul had been ripped from my body and that I was wrecked beyond all repair. There are really no words that can adequately describe how horrible things were. I know that there was some serious divine intervention that lifted my burden of anguish and pain to help prepare me to meet my husband six weeks later. Some valuable counsel that I received at the time was this statement: "We come to know God in our extremity." I thought I understood what that meant at the time-in terms of love lost and earth-shattering disappointment, I suppose that I did. But extremity is a far deeper and more complex idea that I could have ever realized. 

Extremity is the maximum extent of joy, and in it's opposite, pain. It is the highest high and the deepest low. The brightest day and the darkest night. I believe we experience extremity relative to our current path in life. Three years ago, my extremity was having my heart broken by the person I believed I would spend forever with. Two years ago, it was the palpable elation of marrying the most kind, gentle and wonderful man in the world for time and all eternity. Today, it is feeling a consistent sense of loss and emptiness as I yearn for a child that will fit perfectly in our arms and be bound to our hearts for eternity. It is feeling the most exultant and pure joy for my best friend as she prepares to welcome a perfect, heaven-sent soul into her life. It is weeping over the room that sits empty in my house, waiting to welcome our baby home. 

I do not know God yet, but He is revealing himself to me slowly in my extremity. And maybe that is what this struggle is all about. But for right now, I still hate Meredith Grey. 

The Value of a Husband

I cannot imagine walking through life without my husband. On this crazy journey of fertility challenges, he is my touchstone and the grounding influence to balance my emotionally explosive self.

Isn't he cute? We have been married for a year and a half, and I am grateful for every day that we have had together.

Something that saddens me is the devaluation of husbands and fathers in our culture. We are constantly viewing them through the lens of being incapable, helpless, bumbling and out-of-touch. They are the perpetual Phil Dunphy's of the world (and I do think Phil is quite funny in his own right). So while my father will get his own special post someday, my husband is getting his today. I want to celebrate the amazing role of a husband in marriage. I love when husbands and wives speak positively about each other. It is a testament to a commitment to be better together, no matter how hard life gets.

BJ has become my rock and my shelter from the storm. When I am struggling with my lack of mommyhood and feel like I would be better off abandoning tracking my spotty ovulation cycles, getting a hysterectomy and becoming a crazy cat hoarder, he holds my hand and talks me back down to earth.

BJ and I met online. Yes. We are an online-dating success story. I think in some ways, the stars aligned, God poked us, prodded us and prompted us from on high, and we were able to find each other quickly, at moments when we were both ready and open to finding someone to build a life with. Less than two months after the heinous and unexpected end to a long-term relationship, I was blessed with this bright spot in my life because of him. I knew before we met in person that I would likely marry BJ. His warmth, kindness and sensitivity emanated through his emails, text messages and phone calls. I could tell right away how open and honest he was, and it was a vast departure from people I had previously dated.  BJ is exactly what I need in my life-someone who is supportive, loving, committed to his faith, and willing to accept me for who I am. Dating and getting engaged happened quickly for us. I believe that happened because we both made the choice to accept each other and make marriage our ultimate priority, instead of finding a million reasons not to be married. We didn't have a crazy, epic, whirlwind romance. We had great conversation, quick commitment, honesty and a genuine loved based in mutual faith. Getting married wasn't nerve-racking or scary. I had butterflies of excitement when we were sealed together for time and all eternity, but no crazy nausea or second thoughts. It just felt right, like the natural culmination of getting to be with your best friend forever. It was and still is real magic and real romance, even if it is simple and understated. No Bachelor-esque helicopter rides and dream vacations for us-just lots of love and lots of Netflix and pizza.

BJ is not perfect. But he is perfect for me. I stink at a lot of things. Like laundry. Specifically, all aspects of laundry-from the putting it into the basket, all the way to putting it away again when it is clean. He is a laundry master, and he never gets even remotely frustrated with me for being a miserable laundry wretch. I love it. He cleans of his own volition all the time. He compliments me when I am wearing no makeup, a pair of men's oversize sweatpants that have a hole in the crotch, and a ratty t-shirt. He always inquires about my needs, thoughts and feelings. BJ challenges me intellectually, taking an interest in my crazy obsession with all things political. He initiates wonderful faith-based discussions. He understands that good conversation is essential to a good relationship.

BJ has been nothing but supportive during my two years of unemployment and struggles with fertility. He supports my desire to return to work, and encourages me all the time to work towards my goals. He supports my every endeavor, whether it is being more dedicated to clipping coupons to help with our budget, concocting some new crazy meal, or my ramblings and musings about the young adult fiction books I would like to write.

We are crazily similar, but wildly different. He loves superheroes. I like Robert Downey Jr, Chris Evans, Ryan Reynolds and Hugh Jackman, so that at least gives us a little common ground to work with. He is incredibly high-energy. I am more mellow. He can survive on Ramen, pickles and pizza. I would be a miserable bear-beast if I ate like that. He has the best laugh in the entire world. It is an instant pick-me-up. Everything about him is something I love, even if it is something I don't understand or an interest I don't share.

BJ works tirelessly at his job to take care of us. He is one of the hardest workers and most humble people I have ever met. I know he would clean toilets, mop floors, or work three jobs to provide for us. He is selfless, service-oriented, and always works to the best of his ability. I aspire to be more like him. I married someone who is committed to bettering himself and everyone around him. I think it was the smartest thing I have ever done.

He is gentle with children, and will be a wonderful father. Just check him out snuggling his newborn niece.

And playing Disney ballet princesses with his other nieces.

And snuggling them while watching Cinderella.

I thank God for him each day, and I am so blessed to have him as my husband and partner for eternity.

I never wanted to get married to have someone complete me or make me whole, and I never wanted to be that for someone else. I wanted to marry someone who would work with me to be our best selves, together as partners, cleaving unto one another. We find wholeness not in fixing each other, but in discovering ourselves together, as partners bound for the eternities, loving unceasingly. Yeah, we are totally at the beginning of that journey, and it will be hard at times (like someday when our kids won't sleep through the night and our house is drowning in piles of laundry), but I cannot think of another person that I would want to stay up all night and do laundry with.

I love you, BJ.

Acceptance

Accepting change is hard. Beyond hard. It is the first step towards a reformation of one's self. I hate it. But I am trying.

On the outside, I have always been someone who projects an appearance of being "together" and "settled." I cling to this idea as if it is a life-raft to save me from certain drowning. My first foray into blogging was very much tied to this idea of projecting perfection to some sort of all-knowing, all-judging internet audience. You know, those people who actually create the amazing things we all drool over on Pinterest. Who bake layer cakes each week, grow their own vegetable gardens, re-purpose their husband's shirts into baby clothes and take family pictures with perfectly styled and coiffed children sprawled on vintage velvet couches drug over an abandoned railroad track. I wanted to be these women. I taught myself photography. I searched for, created and perfected recipes that I thought these people would like and approve of. I went out of my way to prioritize writing for them and what I believed they wanted. Then I realized, these people do not really exist.

We get snapshots of people's best in the online community. We see picture-perfect homes that put Better Homes & Gardens to shame. We see the epitome of their baking and culinary prowess presented on a perfectly-styled table. We see the best DIY projects they have ever completed in their adorable little lives. What we don't see are the many days spent in yoga pants, weighing the value of a shower against the value of a nap. We don't see the cake that fell flat at 11 PM before it ever made it out of the oven. We don't see the stress over bills, children and relationships. Everyone has their best, and that is great. Everyone has their "not best," and that is great too. So, in the spirit of embracing all the elements that make someone truly whole, I am going to put myself out there in as unedited and authentic a way as possible.

I want to share things that are good. Things that are joyful. Inspiring. Uplifting. But I want to share things that are real. Experiences that affirm what I know to be true-that the opposite of pain is not happiness, but joy. And joy is a complex emotion, tinged around the edges with discouragement, disappointment and heartache, and rooted at it's center in indescribable beauty and pure love. And that you can never have joy without pain.

This blog will be me-who I am, and who I am becoming. I love to cook and bake, so there will be some of that. I love my faith, so there will be some of that. I love my family and the support and delight they pour into my life, so there will be lots of that. There will be a documentation of my journey into healing self through natural and holistic means. There will be a whole mess of things about the struggles I have with my mind and body. And there will be a lot about my deepest desires to have a child, and the nearly two-year journey (thus far unsuccessful) my husband and I have been on to make that a reality. 

I hope that this is something that can help others who live in the same state of flux, growth and back-and-forth that I do. If you read it to gain an insight into a wonderfully imperfect life, then that is good. If you read it to find commonalities with someone who regularly wears sweatpants and binges on Netflix, then you have truly found a kindred spirit. I hope that my efforts to share and document my life authentically contribute something to those who take a few moments to read what I have crafted here. 

Welcome to Wit and Wishes.