One Moment At A Time

The failure of this last cycle was unexpectedly hard to deal with. It left me feeling discouraged and depressed, feeling continually sad and weighed down. I've been struggling with how to come out of it and back to "normal," how to move on and find balance and flow for our days before we head back into all of it again. I felt disconnected from God, not having any desire to sit and have my daily "quiet time" with him, feeling spiritually numb for the most part. I knew that I needed this time, that I needed that connection of my spirit to his, so I did it anyway.
I read, "Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,... And be thankful." (Col 3:15) Those words broke through the barrier that surrounded me and reminded me that, today, I have a choice. I can choose to stay where I am, in this grey heaviness that pins me down, or I can start choosing peace and thankfulness. I can choose joy. I can let go of the hurt and pain, or perhaps more accurately - I can work on prying its fingers one by one off of my soul.
As I grasped at this hope, I was simultaneously been tugged down, by the thoughts that this was too big, and I couldn't just walk away from it in this minute. It wasn't going to go away as easily as all that. The Holy Spirit responded, "No, but every moment, every minute, you can keep choosing. You can walk away one tiny step at a time. And when you stumble, I will still be here. It won't be failure, just another opportunity to try again."
As I moved on to the Psalms, chapter 84 mentions those in pilgrimage to Zion saying, "They go from strength to strength." So encouraging. It wasn't just one moment that carried them forward, one decision, one oasis, but as strength was depleted, it was replaced - a new word of encouragement, a new flare of hope, a new supply of energy.
So, today I choose to move forward, to rejoice in the hope given to me - the dark ache being lifted; I choose to find the things to be thankful for, to see his goodness around me. And in about ten minutes when I feel frustrated and discouraged, I'll choose it again.

Going Public

Ever since coming to this church, I've thought about sharing our story and asking them to pray for us. To pray for a miracle.
We heard a good handful of stories where the church had rallied around someone in need of healing, and God answered and healing happened. Our previous church had its strengths, but believing in miracles wasn't one of them. Healing wasn't something they did really. Here it's been known to happen and I wanted it.
Problem: First - I would have to actually share some pretty intimate information. Most people don't get up in front of crowds and tell them that they are currently trying to have a baby. Sharing just how many losses we've been through isn't easy either. It's hard to get away from the idea that people will view you as having something seriously wrong with you if you tell them you've lost six babies. Obviously, there is something wrong with you, but you don't necessarily want people to know that. Or to view you as broken somehow.
Second - I'd never stopped believing that God did miracles, that they still happen, but along this hard journey I'd come to a place where I had a lot of trouble believing that God did miracles for me. I mean, every single time we were here I prayed. Sometimes, I contacted all my areas of support and had them pray. It was always the same ending. A miracle healing was just not what God had in mind for me. But, believing that, or more accurately, not having the faith that God would do a miracle for me, how could I stand up and ask them to pray for one anyway?

I've come a very long way through all of this. I've been in a lot of different places with my faith and my relationship with God. Not that I'm in any way certain that God plans a miracle for me, but my trust in him and his love for me has grown.
As Aaron and I discussed and made plans to ttc again, this topic also came up. We talked about whether or not to share, and if so, how? Do we put it in the newsletter? Bulletin prayer requests? Or just get up there and put it all out on display? I was seriously tempted to hide behind the paper options. From what I know of my church, I wasn't worried about some of the horrendous responses I've heard friends of mine receive within their churches, but it's hard to know exactly what "kind" comments might come your way.
We felt that it really was time, that God was prompting us to ask for prayer, and I strongly felt that it should have the personal connection of sharing it all "face to face." So I called our pastor and told him what we wanted to do. After like an hour of working up the nerve just to make the phone call.
Now I had to figure out what I would say, how I would tell my entire church that I was currently... working to... have a baby...!!! What was I thinking?! This was insane. I couldn't do this. Seriously. I can't get up in front of a crowd and share these intimate details.
I spent some time praying(freaking out), and the verse about "bear one another's burdens" came to mind. I was reminded of all the times I'd heard about a Christian friend or family member that had been through a hard time and no one had really known about it. I would always get frustrated with them, wishing they had just shared so we could have been there for them, so we could have helped them. I knew God was telling me that it was my turn - I was supposed to be the one sharing our burden so others could help us bear it.
So I did. It wasn't easy, but I was granted a certain amount of peace as I got up there. I know my voice wavered as I spoke, that some of my weakness was revealed, but as we were surround by people who prayed over us, I knew that this was right. The Spirit was with us, and a tiny bit of healing happened to my spirit.
In the days following, we received voices of support from various friends and acquaintances and I know that many will continue to pray for us. I hope, if we go through another loss that we will be able to share and have some of the support we often wished for in those hard days. I'm so hoping that down the road a little we will be able to celebrate with all of these people.

Since we are currently moving on to the next cycle, I know it wasn't an instant healing. No big miracle happened, and I don't know what will happen down the road. While I hope for something that I can point to and say this was clearly an act of God, maybe some modern science will end up being the route he uses to grant us another child. Maybe, at the end of it, we won't have a baby at all. I don't know. I know that I am not alone, and I know that God continues to draw my heart to him, tiny step by tiny step through all of this crap and pain that the world holds for me.

My Story

I've been writing for a while now, not regularly, but here and there, and I decided it was time to share some of my writing, and therefore my heart, with some of those around me. I'm not always a frequent writer, although I would like to be doing it more often, so we'll simply see how this goes.

A lot of my story right now, revolves around Aaron and I trying to add to our family. It's all really a long story, and someday I may share more of the details here, but here's a slightly shortened version. Six years ago, we found out we were expecting, but our world crashed when I miscarried at six weeks. We named him Joshua Jared. Four months after that, I was diagnosed with endometriosis, and given the advice to "get pregnant." Fortunately, that turned out to be easy and put the endometriosis into remission for a few years.
Even though I was terrified through much of being pregnant with Dune, there were no issues through those nine months, he was born strong and healthy, and now an cheerful, imaginative four year old takes up much of my time. When we decided to try for a sibling, we were expecting/hoping that things would continue to go along "normally." Even after losing Anastasios at five weeks, I placed my hope in both loses being "one of those things." After a missed miscarriage at nine weeks (Sayuri), it really started to settle in that something wasn't working the way it should. We began the process of talking to doctors. There was a lot of waiting, and in the meantime, we lost Tacey and Aliento.
After a particularly horrendous waste of time with my OB, I finally knew I had to put in the effort to talk with a Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE). Seventeen vials of blood and a few fun tests later, we were left with "undiagnosed infertiity." The only help the RE could offer was thyroid medication to bring thyroid function to a more optimal level.
After a year and a half of waiting for answers, it was time to try again. Getting pregnant hadn't been hard for us, so after a month we found ourselves with a positive pregnancy test. Unfortunately, our problem hadn't gone anywhere and we lost Nima. Somehow, this loss was especially hard to take and ttc (trying to conceive) was put on hold for a while.
As the new year came around, Aaron and I decided that this year would be it for us. We'll put whatever effort we can into this, and hopefully by the end of the year, we'll have or be expecting a new baby. But if not, we need to be done. Our hearts have almost taken all they can hold.

At the times my mind and heart aren't being consumed by this part of my life, I'm focusing on being a mom, slowly learning to parent with purpose and always with grace. I'm figuring out how to teach a little human about everything - manners, self-discipline, dealing with emotions, responsibility, communication, kindness, healthy habits, dinosaurs, outer-to-space, and what's inside his body!
It didn't take long to realize that many of things I was learning about how to be a mama - responding to emotions, dealing with my own, assuming good intentions, allowing space for mistakes, having appropriate expectations - also transferred to my marriage. We're almost ten years in, and sometimes I feel like we're still newlyweds with all I have to learn. There are many things I'm working on, but I rest knowing that our love runs deep and our relationship is strong. We've seen each other through a lot of heartache and we hold to each other through it all.

My little family currently lives in a small village at the edge of a big city. Aaron is the assistant pastor at the church we see out our front window, and Dune and I love having him so close by. Coming here was one of the best things to happen to our family. It's not been perfection without flaw, but I'm often reminded of how this is the place God has brought us to, and how well it fits our family right now. Living here is a constant reminder of his grace.