Tired Of Tears

Dammit!!!!

That's right. I'm still me. I am still my husband's little sailor. I still have bigger things God has to deal with me on before He's ready for the swearing. 

I'm so sick of crying. All. The. Damn. Time. 

I hold it together, mostly, when anyone is around. Then the second I'm alone, I have an ugly bawling fit. 

I'm not kidding, I've felt my stability slipping away from me the past few days. To be fair, I've been pretty stable for over a year. I've been driving over a year. It's hard to believe. 

It's taken a lot of work. A lot of doing what I've learned. A lot of being honest with myself and those around me. A lot of talking through those little things that pop up. 

Granted, I've been focused on our home and move a good portion of that time. Before that was leaving our first church. I've had other stuff to keep my mind busy. Oh and I can't forget that I was physically sick for about 4 of the past 5 months. 

There's also a good deal of healing from the past that has come from moving. 

All that being said, it's been tough this past two weeks. To be very simple, I fight to find value here on earth and long for heaven. 

Can you blame me? I'm once again feeling a pain that surpasses all understanding. 

I think of all the times I could have died. My dad had plenty of opportunities. The armed assault not down the street from out old house. The truck wreck with no seatbelt. I question why not then to avoid this pain. I have to ask those questions. I think without those questions, we never set ourselves in the same direction that God has for us. 

This is just so incredibly hard. I'm tired of the tears. I'm tired of the pain. I've told everyone not to rush my grief, but have yet to take my own advice. 

All babies go to heaven...

Do they? How do we know? My head is spinning and my mind has lost out to my heart.

Is the bible clear on it?  Everyone has always told me they do, but in my frantic search to calm my fears, I can't find it.

Oh my goodness, this doesn't get easier. It's so strange. The past two days have been good. My mood has been good. Then, at the end of the day, it all falls apart.

During a couple conversations yesterday, I am reminded why this time the pain so much deeper.

One of the things I have always done with pain is lock it away. I've always had sophisticated coping mechanisms in place to lock memory and emotion deep inside. There has been enough healing over the past seven years, that I no longer have that natural default. Now, I feel the pain.

There's something very important to understand about me. When I feel something, I feel it very deeply. Throughoyt most of my life, I did not have the capacity to feel anything. As I began to learn, I only had the ability to feel about things that were incredibly meaningful. I still do that.

Right or wrong...when I feel joy, it is a jubilant happiness that radiates throughout every facet of my life. When I feel sadness, it is a bottom of the pit hopelessness.

This grief is deep and new for me. I feel it in my soul, as if something is missing and I am empty.

This loss is really making me evaluate my true belief in heaven. I've never lost a Christian friend. I've never lost any saved relatives. Pretty sure I don't have anyone in heaven waiting for me.

Maybe it's because I'm still grieving the earthly loss, but I can't wrap my head around heaven. If the baby we just loss is there, how will I know? How will any baby thats never seen me know I'm his or her momma?

There's a part of me that wants to put this behind me, as if it never happened. The other part is ready for heaven right now. I'm ready for no more tears, no more pain.



Just a reminder, I ultimately write these posts for myself. With the exception of a few friends, I have no idea who you are. I don't publicize this blog and most friends do not know I blog. Everything I write is real and raw. I ask that you not judge, but walk through this with me by praying for me. I have sought out biblical counsel, but the days between those times are long and full of pain and questions. Please help pray me through those days.

Thorn in my flesh...

First of all, we have found an amazing church and pastor here in Ohio.  I cannot tell you how much we feel at home and how it is evident that God meant for us to land there.  In fact, the reason for our move to Ohio may have well been to experience a church such as this and restore our faith in church.

I met with our pastor today.  I had poo pooed the idea when people suggested it.  No doubt I needed someone to walk through this valley with me.  However, our more recent experiences would tell us that we are beneath pastors and they are far too busy to care about the depths of our life.

Maybe it's that this church is small or maybe because this pastor is different, but the experience today was much different.

The first thing he did was remind of Paul and the thorn in his flesh.  I hadn't ever picked that apart.

It is possible that infertility is my thorn.

It is certainly the thing that I have begged to be taken away from me.  It is the thing that is right this minute creating a wedge between me and God.  It is the thing that drives my anger and brings me to tears.

It's painful.  It hurts physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually.  It's the thing that keeps me from feeling whole.  It's the thing that I stomp my feet and swear that this life isn't fair.  It's the thing that makes me question the goodness of God and all I know to be true.

It is definitely my thorn.

It's so confusing.  Honestly, I don't pray about the fertility much any more.  I pray more that God remove this natural desire from me.  The one where I naturally feel led to be a mother.  I've prayed for that for years.  And, it's not been answered.

Or maybe it has.

Maybe I'm not supposed to be without that desire.  But why?

I don't know.

I do know that our window will soon close.  We literally have, fully stretched to the last possible minute, 9 months to get pregnant or the door forever closes.

As our bible study group gathered around us and had a time of prayer over us last night, I heard heart-felt prayers for us to have a baby.  I realized that even I haven't prayed that big.  I've prayed for God to lead us in the right direction.  My right direction is to take that desire away.  Why?  Because the fear of pain is too much.

My fear is that if we do treatments, they will fail or we will suffer more loss.  I can't even bring myself to think that God could answer these bold prayers that friends and strangers are praying over us.  All I can see is my desire to not hurt.

I still don't know what we are going to do.  It certainly helps to understand why this is so hard.  This is my thorn.

Now to hold onto faith while wrestling over these decisions and desires.

Puffy Eyes, Broken Heart

If you've read any of my blog at all, you would know I'm not the kind of person to ask for help. I bottle things up until they explode and I'm forced to get help. 

I've called private and christian counsellors today, trying to get an appointment. I'm on a waiting list till next year and that's not going to cut it. 

There's so much that makes this loss harder. 

It's my first as a Christian. Never during the seven years of my walk with Christ have I ever been so faithful, so confident, so bound to God's promises. There wasn't a lot that could have shaken that. 

Except losing a baby. 

It's all hitting me so hard today. I'm faithful to fulfill obligations the best I can. So I baked 12 dozen cookies for happy, healthy children. There was probably a tear for every one of them. 

After all I've been through in my life, I rarely ask why me. I rarely get angry or commiserate in the unfairness of what has happened. But I am today. 

All I can think of is that we've lost another chance to be parents and it's not fair. We weren't even trying. Another lost chance to wipe snotty noses or wait on a school bus or buy a prom dress. The list goes on and on. 

This loss is devastating. My feelings certainly aren't in alignment with my beliefs right now. I don't understand this loss. Don't understand why it happened. Don't understand why we could have just not gotten pregnant again. That's the unfair part. 

The grief is overwhelming. Why in the world did God move me away from all that is good and bring such heartache? There doesn't seem to be an acceptable answer. 

Loss

I'm not unfamiliar with loss. Family, babies, friends, pets. I've lost them all. Some by death, some by choice, some by natural progression. I've said thousands of times that I'm immune to it. I suppose that's true to a degree.

I learned something at my appointment this week that I never expected. When I went to the ER in August, I was somewhere between 10-12 weeks pregnant and did not know.

It takes a lot to put that out there. Only because it's taken me a few days to wrap my head around more loss.

When you're told you can't get pregnant, you never expect it.

Really, it's kind of a messy story. In the ER, they failed to do a pregnancy test. If they had, they would have done a D&C immediately. They didn't, so I had a month of complications. Complications that dropped my hemoglobin to a dangerous 6.9 and gave me severe anemia that will take months to recover from.

I'm recovering well physically. I still get tired more than normal and I'm freezing all the time. My body temp dropped below 94 and still hovers near 95-96. Let me tell you, I quite enjoyed a 105 degree hot tub on an 80 degree day recently. Strange for me.

I realized today that my heart isn't recovering well at all. I am having a tough time chalking this one up to just something that happens.

While I am making friends here, I'm not close enough to anyone to really have a deep conversation about this. I've talked briefly to my pastor, but he's a guy. So, I spared him all the tears and emotions I wanted and needed to unload on someone besides my husband.

Oh my word, the emotions. Since there's nobody to talk to, the emotions seep out in other ways. Ok, maybe come flying out, misplaced and confusing for my poor husband. I love him, but he's just not good in those bawling, screaming fits that have nothing to do with the nonsense spewing out of my mouth.

For the record, I have contacted a local counselor. The only one on our insurance in the area. And, I'm on a waiting list until sometime next spring or summer.

I don't know why this loss is so hard. I don't know why this grief feels so much deeper.

Since Wednesday when I learned about the miscarriage, I think I've barely gotten through a few hours without crying. I want to curl up in my blanket and just stay there.

There's nothing that could've been done to stop the miscarriage at the ER even if they had done the test. Ultimately, the series of events led to the discovery of these abnormal cells. My mind fully grasps the idea that all things happen for a reason.

But my heart...my heart just isn't on board with that. My heart is aching over the loss of a baby. A baby I didn't know I had. A miracle that never really was. My heart is questioning Gods plan. My heart is angry. I want to be immune to this pain, but I'm not. This hurts and I don't know how to deal with it.

No Cancer and Never More Stressed

The final results of my surgery came back consistent with the biopsy, no cancer.  There is a small group of abnormal cells.  Those cells could resolve themselves or turn into a stage 1 cancer.  Therefore, I will need a repeat surgery in the future to check the stability of the cells.  Thankfully, my doctor seems very positive.

Another thing my doctor is very positive about is that we have a short window of time to consider and pursue fertility treatments.

The world kind of came to a screaching halt two days ago for me.  WHAT?  A baby?  Me? Us?  How? No? Yes?

I'm sick over the thought.  We had written off the idea of biological children a very long time ago.  No way it would ever happen and we it wasn't on our radar at all.  In fact, we had only recently began to discuss and pray about the possibility of adoption.  Even that was a future thing, a few years off for us.

It's a bit of dejavu.  We've been down this road before.  We went through the testing.  As young newlyweds, we tried the medications.  With no regard to multiple births or the true reality of all the responsibility of children, we charged forward through a process that could have given us our hearts desire.

That journey led to a lot of heartache and tears.  At times, the pain threatened to break our marriage.  After lots of failed attempts, we gave up.  We didn't have the money at the time to pursue IVF and so our options were limited.

Even before I was a Christian, I knew this was something that was out of my control.  I've had PCOS for many, many years.  I've had scar tissue removed from many, many years of abuse.  I've known that a viable pregnancy was beyond my control.

Now here we are.  We've been married 16 years.  He is 49 and I am 39.  We've been given this tiny bit of hope, when we weren't expecting it at all.  We have a doctor who says that if there's ever been a time, it's now.  And, we must decide to move to take a chance or decide to forever let go of the idea.

My husband.  I know he has grieved fatherhood for years.  He loves children.  I mean, he's sorta a big kid himself.  When we used to have more contact with my nieces and nephews, he was the one that made sure the house was full of toys.  I have watched him long for children and be devastated that there are none.  The older he gets, the harder Father's Day becomes.  Now, at 49, he's come to some sort of reality where he will forever be childless.

This news is still fresh for us.  So, my husband has shared only a tiny bit of what is rolling through his head with me.  Let me remind you that it took us 14 years to agree on a color to paint over the hideous pink that was in our bedroom.  This is a man who does not make decisions quickly.  When you put a time limit on him, it is not likely he will comply.  That's just who he is.

Of course, he is fearful.  He's almost 50.  He's afraid having a child at 50 is unfair to a child.  If he were to die at 70, that leaves a 20 year old without a father.  He's afraid that he won't be able to be a good dad as he gets older.  He's fearful of the responsibility.

I respect those fears, I really do.  They aren't unlike my own.  I also fear that 6 months of fertility treatments will lead to a lot more years of heartache.  Heartache that I've been able to move past and heal from over the past few years.

When I think about fertility treatments, I can only forsee pain and loss and emptiness.  Why can't I see possibility?   Why do I not look at this new hope with the end result being a baby?

I think it is because I don't yet believe that there could be anything good in my life.  My life has been hard....a lot!  Things are never easy.  As a general rule, I have experienced pain and loss more than love and joy.

As we consider our options, there is a theme that I cannot shake.  I believe we are headed down a road of not even trying treatments.  If that's the case, I will have to be ok with that.  What I can't ever be ok with is that the list of things my family and past have stolen from me never seems to end.  Ultimitely, the deciding factors will come down to that.  Where the past has left me today.  Whether it is fertility treatment or adoption, the deciding factor will ALWAYS be found in the past.

Please pray for us.  Two days in and this decision is already dividing us.  It's already flooding us with emotion and tears.  Neither one of us are ready to make this decision and right now, we aren't on the same page.

It Is Finished

Let me start with a disclaimer that I am in no way comparing my life to the life of Jesus...

When I think about Jesus on the cross saying, "It is finished," I can't help but think about the finality of it all.  I mean how much more poignant could that statement be?  Over.  Finished.  Done.  No more.

We have finally reached a finality in our lives, a couple actually.

Our KC house is finally sold.  Gone.  Done.  Finished.  Not ours.  No more.

This process has been so stressful, that you might think that we would only have feelings of joy the moment the papers are signed.  That's partially true, but not completely.

There is some trepedation.  It was our first home, our home of 16 years.  The place of our first purchase, fight, success, etc. as a married couple.  We learned to cope, live and laugh together there.  We grew to love each other well there.  It's bittersweet to say the least.

We are so incredibly thankful to have the debt gone.  To not have to pay multiple utilities for two homes.  We are excited to not have to worry and fret over the house.  Most of all, we are thankful to now only live in one place.

Even when Jesus said it was finished, it wasn't.  In fact, it was a new beginning.

The same could be said for us.  Now that it is finished, it is time for a new beginning.

We will have the ability to live a lot less stressed, which means less bickering. We will be able to save money instead of throw it at another house and a mountain of debt.  We will be able to do things we want and need to do.

I did have surgery last week.  I feel a bit of a new beginning since that as well.

I had literally felt like I was going to die.  What I didn't know was that if I hadn't sought medical attentions, I could have died.  Not only did I have the obvious physically issues, my hemoglobin was dropping and fast.

Prior to surgery, my hemoglobin had dropped low enough to warrant a transfusion.  Thankfully, the doctor waited to see if the surgery would cause it to rise.  It did.  By the time I left the hospital, it had come up from 7 to 8.  If it doesn't keep rising, the doctor is going to push into a transfusion to get me back on track.

It's crazy, but I know it's getting better.  I didn't realize just how sick I was.  My face was pale white and now has color.  I wake up with so much more energy.  I do wear down by the end of the day, but there is a noticeable difference in how I feel.  We still have to get the results next week to determine if there is any cancer, but I am feeling good.

I have to admit, I am a little lost right now.  This new beginning came so fast that I had no time to plan what was next.

Of course, I have some major cleaning to do after being sick the better part of the past three months.  I want to get back to the things I enjoy.  I want to start serving the church and church body again.  I am ready to embrace and live life here in Ohio.