For the last couple years I've faced some pretty traumatic health issues.  I saw a doctor who ran all the tests, and all the tests came back normal.

I was literally told, "Just wait and see."

This year I saw a new doctor and got a referral to a specialist, whom I saw this week.

It was a very hard appointment for me.  I started crying just at the check-in desk and pretty much didn't stop the entire hour I was there.  A lot of emotions - nervousness, fear, anxiety, dread.  Honestly, it was just hard to bring all this back up again.

But this amazing doctor actually gave me a diagnosis.

And along with the diagnosis, he gave me back a whisper of hope.

The previous doctor had pretty much written me off.

And along with him, I had also written myself off.

This new diagnosis has a possible treatment.  It includes a medication with vicious side effects.  I've had just a glimpse, and it was brutal.

There's no easy solution.  And no guarantees.

But I have hope again.

And for that I am grateful.

I've attempted multiple blog posts in the last few days.
But things have just been off.
The timing.
Availability.
Computer and photo issues.
Inspiration.

And this blog post I didn't plan to write.

But sometimes the feelings are too great to keep inside.
The thoughts and the pain have to come out.
And, for now anyways, this is where they land.




It's just a stroller.
And a car seat.

But now they are officially for sale.

"Gently used" the ad reads.

We went gender neutral on everything.  Even though we knew we were having a girl.

"We'll have two and then see." was always our answer when people asked us how many kids we wanted.  Either that or "Two to four."

One was never an option.
One was never our plans.

I always wanted a big family.
Big families have more fun.
I learned that from The Cosby Show.

The last few weeks have been rough.
Too rough to detail.

Last week was the 5 year mark from finding out we were pregnant with Catherine.
5 years.
Thanks, Facebook, for the reminder.
I went to bed early that night.
Cried myself to sleep.
Feeling broken that I can't reach that status again.
Like my body has failed me.
Betrayed me.

My hopes and plans and desires have been battered and abandoned.
I'm left without them.
Laying helpless with a part of me ripped out and gaping open.


But God.

But God knows the plans He has for me.

But God will take all that He has made and use it for good.

And what was intended for the negative, God will use for good.

He is good and He is faithful and He is loving.
In the midst of my pain, He is my comfort.

I sing it.
I say it.
I believe it.
And I remind myself of it.

Catherine's first ride in the stroller

So, my last post was apparently a big hit.  But I write about more than infertility.  Infertility does not define me.  And even though the last two blog posts had the word "pee" in them, I promise that's not a usual topic.  Sidenote:  now, that's three blogs in a row containing the word "pee."  I have really got to quit that!

One area that I've been pursuing for the last few months is the area of minimalism and decluttering our house.

The hard part about decluttering is the process it takes to get there.

Because I have a full life and a full schedule, the decluttering process spreads over many days or weeks (or an entire summer; yah, I'm looking at you, Summer of 2015).  And you end up living like this for a sad, sad amount of time:

Bin after bin after basket after box . . .

The easy part about de-cluttering is realizing how much stuff you don't need.  It took just a few seconds to skim through the Target ad today.  We went for some dishwasher detergent and a clip to hang a wreath on the front door.  When I was looking at the weekly ad posted inside the entryway, I didn't have to look at the CDs on sale - because I can listen to anything online.  I didn't have to look at the movies on sale - because I can rent from the library or Redbox.  And I didn't have to look at the books on sale - because I can rent those too from the library of course.

No pondering over trying to make the best decision.  It was an easy decision!

Decluttering is not easy, but I'm making progress.  I hope to share more updates as I continue the journey.

After a disastrous family trip to Kohl's this evening, I asked Josh if I could run into the Dollar Store real quick.

"Sure, what for?"

Silence.

"Hello?" he tried again, while I tried to figure out how to respond.

"I can't tell you," I said defensively.  "Christmas is coming."

The truth was I didn't want to give him a false sense of hope.  Again.


I'm cheap.
I compare prices.
I buy based on what's on sale.
Paying full price for something is a foreign concept to me.

So, when I found out the Dollar Store carries pregnancy tests I started buying them there.

No sense spending a whole lot more to get a name brand from another store.
Especially for something that I literally pee on and throw away.
Truthfully, I don't want to put a lot of investment in it because it always ends up disappointing.

For some reason our Dollar Store now moved their pregnancy tests to behind the cash registers.  As in, you have to A) already know they carry them and then B) ask an employee for it by name.  While closely surrounded by other people.

My husband has a public job and is known by a lot of people in this community.  Being married to him makes me also susceptable to being known by a lot of people.  People who I've never met.  There's no privacy for me in this town.  I never know when I'm known.

Sometimes I just don't want to be known.


I wait in line and smile warmly at the young girl behind the register when it's my turn.  I try to use a hushed tone and turn my back to anybody behind me.

"Could I get a pregnancy test?" I'm suddenly timid and nervous.

"Just one?"

I hate that question.

The answer to it is dependent upon the result of the first test.  Which is, obviously, unknown.  That's kinda the whole reason I'm there.

My frugality wins out and I always end up just getting one.
And then regretting it the next time I need one.
Because it means I have to go through this whole scenario again.

"Yah, just one."  I feel I have to provide some sort of explanation, as additional words tumble out of my mouth.  "I don't know why I just get one..."

The young girl tries to be empathetic, "I hear ya.  I hear ya."  She smiles.  I smile.  And pay her my $1.07.

She has no idea.

Does she know the eager anticipation mixed with dread when I prepare to take the test?

Does she know afterwards I quickly put all the contents back into the bag and stuff it into the trash, trying to forget all about it?  Again.  And again.  And again.

Does she know I loathe the term "only child"?

Does she know I cringed filling out a paper this week for my daughter's pre-school class that said,
"My name is     Catherine    .
I have    0   brothers and    0   sisters."

Does she know the paralysis I have currently while wondering what to do with our four year old's outgrown car seat, stroller, crib, and highchair?

Or does she think, "Her period's late; hopes she's not preggers."?

Some people can time out their pregnancies perfectly, "We decided to have February babies so that my maternity leave will coincide with ....." or "We wanted our children to be two years apart."

That amazes me.

It amazes me because I have very little control over our situation, and to think someone else can control theirs so perfectly is unfathomable.

Some friends recently shared with us news of their pregnancy.  It's supposed to be an exciting announcement.  Our response is supposed to be elation and surprise and joy.

And instead it was sadness.
Emptiness.
And a feeling of loss and missing out.

I don't know why this is the path God has us on.
But I know I felt compelled to share this tonight.
Maybe someone walking this same path needed to read it.

If that's the case, please allow me to extend to you, "I hear ya.  I hear ya." And a smile.
Know you're not alone in this sad struggle.
May we find fulfillment and wholeness in our identify in Christ, rather than the size of our family.

photo by Peter Ringenberg

So, there are a ton of things that I struggle with.  But it really wasn't that long ago that I realized fear was not one of my struggles.

So, of course that had to change.

I don't know if it was due to pride or just a change in my season of life or what, but suddenly my being has become full of fear and anxiety.

The last week has been really really hard. Like, some days I'm surprised I'm still going.

Tonight, it's a whole new fear, and it's keeping me up late.

For I know once I wake up I have to face a fear.  A big fear.

Off and on over the last year or so, I've been dealing with some pretty crappy situations regarding my health.  I'm sparing you the details.  They went away for awhile but came back.

In the last couple weeks I've gone through some tests, and everything has come back clear.

Tomorrow is one more test.  And I'm afraid of it.

I'm afraid of it not coming back clear.

But I think even more so I'm also afraid of it being clear and fine just like all the others.

Because that means still no answers.

And I don't know which terrifies me more:  an official name of a diagnosis or no known cause of said crappy health problems.

After tomorrow's test there will be a discussion of options.  Which, of course, is another part that scares me.

The thing is...  there are no good options.  There are crushing, devastating, drastic options that mean the end of our chances at our family's growth.

And I'm not ready for that possibility.

I'm not ready for that decision to be made by someone else and for us to be forced into it.

I'm not ready to quit and give up.

So tonight I'm praying for clarity,
for guidance,
for peace,
for sleep,
and rest.

I had been doing really well.



I had managed to detach myself from about 90% of Catherine's outgrown clothes sizes newborn through 3T.

We had 1.5 days of yard sales.

But sold very little of her clothing.

We found another bin.  "3-6 months" it was labeled.

Planning Round 2 of the yard sale, I started digging through it tonight.

Pricing.
Sorting.
Matching.
Tagging.

And suddenly I came across her "Miracle Swaddle".

And the tears just flooded out.

The hope has run out.

The ache has overwhelmed me tonight.

A week ago I was fine.  I was "in the zone".

I could - and did - rationally and unemotionally explain why it's best to get rid of all these items.  How maybe someday we can "parent" in non-traditional ways.  How if, by some slim chance, another child joins our family he or she may be older.  How the basic necessities are really quite minimal.  How we can borrow things if needed.  How it's freeing to allow ourselves to let go of these material items that hold us back and keep us in a waiting pattern.

A week ago my words prevailed.

But tonight the raw emotion wins.