Being Real

Remember that post I wrote last year called The Ugly Truth?  The one where I shared how hard it is to be infertile year after year after year?  This is a similarly truthful post -- although hopefully not quite as ugly -- about how hard it is to be "pregnant," but not really, month after month after month.  

The truth is this:  I feel like a fraud.  For months I've been putting on a happy face trying to be strong, but in doing so I feel like I'm not being honest.  Most people see the smile on my face and think that I'm bouncing off the walls, overflowing with joy and excitement that we're finally expecting a baby, when in reality I haven't enjoyed much about this journey since it started.

Let me be clear.  

I am excited...  but it is not overflowing.  I am filled with joy...  but only because joy is a choice.  And I am thankful to be expecting this amazing, undeserved gift.  I don't know that I would go so far as to say that I'm happy.  Why?  

Because surrogacy is HARD. 

Try to imagine for just a moment what it would be like to know you're "pregnant" but not get to feel or see any evidence of that.  Not a kick, not a flip, not a hiccup.

Now try to imagine that you're not only unable to experience anything yourself, but you have very, very limited access to the person who is carrying your baby because she lives over 300 miles away (which might as well be the moon since gas prices are so high!).  You can't even touch the belly where your child is growing or even have the chance to feel a kick from the outside.

Next try imagining what it would be like if, due to the difficulty of coordinating busy schedules, your primary method of communication with the woman carrying your child was text messaging (where one's "tone" can be so easily misread and misinterpreted).  You rarely hear her voice on the phone, and seeing her in person is even rarer still, which only accentuates how disconnected, isolated and uninvolved you feel.

Now imagine living like that day after day... week after week... and month after excruciating month.

Trust me.  It's brutal.

I am emotionally exhausted, so forgive me if I don't have any energy left for excitement.  I often feel as though everyone around me is more excited than I am.  Which of course is ridiculous since I'm the one who will have a baby in my arms at the end, Lord willing.  

The problem is that I'm on a road that doesn't feel like it has an end.  Time doesn't go fast.  It doesn't fly by.  It's not going to be here "before I know it" because Every. Single. Day. up to this point has been agonizing and there's no reason for me to think that the next 80-something days will be any different.

Every surrogacy story is going to be unique and different because every surrogacy story has unique and different people in it.  The one thing every story has in common is hormones and emotions, and throwing those into the mix can make things oh-so-complex -- especially when dealing with a first-time mom and a first-time surrogate at the same time. 

Needless to say, our story is turning out way different than how I imagined it would.  And maybe that's the problem.  Maybe I shouldn't have gone into this with any expectations at all, but how could I not?  It's human nature to paint a picture in our head of how a situation is "supposed" to play out. 

The beginning was full of hopeful excitement, and I know the ending will be amazing...  but this stuff in the middle?  Messy.  Uncomfortable.  Torture.  

In the end all that will matter is the baby in my arms.  All the crazy emotions...  the anxiety attacks...  the sobbing meltdowns in the shower... they will all be a distant memory.  I don't think I'll ever completely forget the hell I've lived through these past several months, but the bad stuff will fade with time as all bad stuff does.

In the meantime I'll just keep moving forward, making it through each day as best as I can.  And remember that even though time feels like it's dragging, now is not forever.  
 

I will see the goodness of the Lord.  

Joy is coming.  
 

Time flies... sometimes

A year ago today I started my current job. Which I love. I actually feel like I've been there forever, but that doesn't have anything to do with the job itself.  Being in an almost constant state of waiting makes time seem to go slowly.

This last year has felt like the longest year of my life.  Truthfully, the last 3 years have seemed to take forever, but especially this most recent one.  Often it has felt like time has been at a complete standstill. 

Waiting for a chance to go forward with surrogacy. 
Waiting to move to Florida to be with my husband. 
Waiting for our house to sell. 
Waiting, waiting, and more miserable waiting. 

(Can you tell that waiting is my favorite??)

They say time flies when you're having fun so it would only make sense for the reverse to also be true.

This past year has crawled and it has not been fun.

My husband has been unemployed for most of the year.  Soooo not fun - for either of us.

And although I am immensely grateful and excited about having a baby in just a few short months (!), my lack of involvement and physical separation while waiting for her arrival has been torture.   

(Please don't tell me it will be worth it.  That's the single most unhelpful thing you could say to someone who is tired of waiting.) 

Top it all off with the fact that I haven't physically felt good for more than a year and it's no wonder time has felt like it's been inching by at a snail's pace.

I hate to sound like I'm complaining. That's not my goal with this post.  I'm keenly aware that things could be much much worse.  I'm truly just musing more than anything else; pondering how viewpoints can be so vastly different even though we're all allotted the same amount of time in this life.

People with kids always talk about how fast they grow up.

"It seems like just yesterday when..."  

"You'll want to freeze time."  

"You won't want her to grow up."

"I can't believe she's old enough to..."

That may all be true... but I say bring it on. 

I'm planning to embrace every stage of our precious child's life with joy, and do my very best to be thankful that time is moving quickly... even if it is going "too fast."  Because I know the alternative is worse, and I'm so very weary of "slow."

I realize that once she arrives I may change my mind, but right now? 

Right now I can't wait for time to start flying. 

three {one}

Three is how many kids I wanted to have.  Well, 2 at the very minimum, but preferably 3.  You know, back when I thought infertility was something that happened to other people.  It never crossed my mind that just having one child would be next to impossible.

Oh to be that naive again... to live in blissful ignorance, dreaming of a picture-perfect future... to think that having 3 children by the time I turned 35 would be easily achieved.

Even in my early infertility days I never thought for a second that I wouldn't have at least one child by the time I turned 35.  Even after I was told that my body was broken, I believed God was bigger than any diagnosis (still do!) and that surely we would eventually be able to get pregnant.  Even then I never dreamed it would be an uphill, 8-year battle that ended with us expecting a baby at the ages of 38 & 40, via a surrogate.

Yet, here we are.  Our lives and dreams reshaped by this thing called infertility.  

For which I am grateful beyond words, oddly enough.

Grateful for the pain that shaped me.  Grateful for the journey that led us to this destination.  Grateful to be expecting THIS precious baby girl, at this time, in this way.   

Grateful. 

Still... that doesn't change the fact that I dreamed of having a bigger family.  Once she's in my arms I know some of that will fade, but lately I've been feeling a little wistful at the thought of her growing up without siblings.  This surprised me because it's something I've never felt before, and I'm not quite sure how to process it. 

I never considered for one moment that this much-loved, long-awaited child would very likely be an "only."  I don't know how to dream about what life with an only child will be like, because that's not something that was ever on my radar.  It's a totally foreign concept to me.

I started this post at the beginning of National Infertility Awareness Week, but then I kinda stalled.  I was prompted to work on it again today after reading a FB post referencing a conversation overheard in a waiting room where a couple of moms were discussing whether or not it was "worth the stress" to have a 3rd child (while one held her 3rd in her arms and the other was pregnant with her 3rd).

Oh what I wouldn't give for that kind of "stress." 

That's just one tiny example of the level of insensitivity that exists when it comes to infertility.  People simply don't stop to think about how hurtful words like that can be to someone who is unable to have one child, or who had to fight tooth and nail for the children they do have.

Just like any other life-altering disease, infertility isn't something you think about unless you are affected by it.

That's why I talk about infertility.

My friend Thelma said it perfectly in her blog post today (which is a must-read, by the way):

"Awareness is foundational to understanding, which in turn acts as a catalyst for compassion."

I tell my story in hopes of providing understanding to those who don't know what it's like to live with an infertility diagnosis, so in turn there is more compassion and support for those who are facing it.

Infertility is a disease.  True, it's not something life-threatening like cancer, but it is an incredibly difficult, personal struggle for the person who is living it. 

1 in 8.  The numbers don't lie.  Someone you know could be quietly hurting.  Don't push her to share if she's not ready, but I would encourage you to be sensitive with the words you say and be ready to support and encourage her when/if she does choose to open up.  No, you can't take away her pain or heal her broken body, but it would mean so much to her just to know that you care and acknowledge that what she's going through is real.

Steal My Show

For the past several weeks my radio stations have been playing a lot of the new Toby Mac song "Steal My Show."  When they first started playing it I kinda dismissed it because the song is being sung from the artist's perspective, about how he wants God to take center stage and be the Star of his concerts.  Doesn't relate to someone who isn't a performer, right?

Wrong.

The more I listened to the lyrics, the more they penetrated my soul, and the more I realized this could be my new theme song, or at the very least another song in the soundtrack of my life.

As Christians, each one of our lives is on display for the world to see.  We may not be singing in a crowded auditorium full of fans who are singing along to our songs, but we are showcasing God's work in our lives and demonstrating the love of Christ to those around us. 

Earlier this week I was reading in The One Year Book of Hope and this part really struck me:

"He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less."  John 3:30 (NLT)  That's what it's all about, isn't it?  Shouldn't this be the joy and passion of our lives?  For Jesus to become bigger in our estimation and in the eyes of the world?  For Jesus to shine brighter than any other star in the universe, including our own?  For Jesus to take the throne He deserves in the heavens and in our hearts?  It's what we want and yet there's a rub.  For Jesus to become greater, we must become less. Our agenda must become less important so His agenda can chart our course.  Our earthly appetites must be subdued so our appetite for Him can be unleashed.  Our afflictions must leave center stage so that His love for the world can be made visible in us and through us. 

My agenda for so many years was trying to get pregnant -- something that is seemingly easy for most of the world, yet it was elusive and ultimately impossible for me.  There was nothing "wrong" with my agenda, as trying to achieve pregnancy is a very natural and normal thing for a woman.  However, my agenda wasn't God's plan for me, and it needed to become less important so that His could take precedence.

Now here I am, smack dab in the middle of this amazing story that God had planned the whole time.  I would have never chosen to walk the path of infertility for 8 long years, and I certainly wouldn't have chosen surrogacy as the way I am to become a mother.  I'm totally blown away that we're here, because deep down I don't think I ever truly believed it would work.  But God knew.  He's known all along. 

I have questioned God and cried out to Him so many times along the way, and I'm probably not done since this a very complex and emotional place to be.  But it's not my "show."  It's His.  And it's time for me to step out of the way and let Him shine.

Going Public {for real}

After years of heartache and infertility, Scott & I are overjoyed to share that we are expecting a baby via surrogacy! It was never in *our* plan to take this route to parenthood, but there is no doubt that God has clearly guided us here, as we have seen His hand each step of the way.

You can read our whole story by clicking through the "tabs" at the top of our surrogacy blog (http://carriedblog.blogspot.com/) and get a little introduction to our amazing surrogate, "Sally" (we don't use our real names for privacy purposes).

We are overwhelmed with gratefulness to Sally, to our family and friends who have supported us these past couple of years, and most of all to God. 

MAY HE BE GLORIFIED through this story and the life of our precious, long-awaited child. 

"The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy." - Psalm 126:3

Going Public {sort of}

No, I don't have big and exciting news, but I am finally ready to share a little bit about what's been going on "behind the scenes" in our lives.

What I'm about to share is viewed as controversial in many circles, which is why I've chosen to hold out for as long as I have.  It's also the reason I've chosen to do some purging of my Facebook friends recently -- not because I distrust or dislike certain people, but because I feel the need for more privacy due to where we are on this journey.

The circumstances in my life right now is a reality I never expected to face, but it is my reality and I don't feel like I can fully be myself if I'm not able to be more open about it.

So here we go...

I've mentioned on this blog before that Scott & I went through an IVF cycle back in 2010, and that this cycle failed.  We were heartbroken to lose several embryos in that process, but thankful for the 2 who were able to be frozen for future attempt(s).

Unfortunately, it wasn't long afterward that we found out my body couldn't support a pregnancy.  Ever.  Suddenly we were in a position we had never dreamed of being in.  We had 2 embryos, and no womb to put them in.

Surrogacy was our only option.

After 2 torturous years of waiting and praying, we were finally able to give one of our tiny babies the chance at life that he/she deserved.  Everything went perfect on the technical side, and we even got an early positive pregnancy result, but sadly we lost our precious baby a few short days later.

We are now in the beginning stages of giving our last tiny baby a chance at life.

I have a separate blog where both me and our surrogate have been posting, but I'm not quite ready to go completely public with that site yet.  Right now I would covet your support and prayers as we walk the complex road that is surrogacy.  It has been draining on us emotionally, mentally, physically, and financially.

The latter is what has prompted me to write this blog post.

I hate asking for money.  HATE it.  But our surrogate (who is an amazing gift from God) is heading up a fund-raising campaign and is confident that God is going to provide what we need in order to pay for our next attempt.  I wish my faith was as strong...  I'm working on that (I say that a lot, huh?).  Please don't feel obligated to give, but if you want to...  I would be humbled and grateful beyond words.  I have included the widget below (with our first "mini-goal" total) for anyone who wishes to donate.  You can also donate via our merchandise shop that my talented friend Jenn has designed and created for us.

More than monetary donations though, I would ask for your prayers. 

I so desperately want this little one to live... and right now I can't even muster up a glimmer of hope (7 years of infertility will do that to you).

Losing this baby after waiting, hoping, and praying for him/her for 2 long years has been devastating to me...  and I'm petrified of losing our last little one. 

I know that all I can do is cling to Jesus and try to trust His plan... even though I may never understand it.