Hope during Infertility

What better time during the year to be filled with hope and gratitude than Christmas!? (Perhaps, Easter?) However, I have been filled with hope, indeed!

I know a post about infertility right after a pregnancy announcement may seem a little insensitive, but I've done a lot of thinking about my experience with infertility. It is my sincere hope that other women find strength in their trials.

For months and months, I wanted to get pregnant. But, because I was breastfeeding Bug, my cycles hadn't returned yet. And consequently, my fertility hadn't returned yet. Then, my body started showing signs of returning fertility. Signs...but not reality. Every time my body began another cycle, I was filled with painful emotion. The flowing blood of menstruation is a physical cleanse. The body dumps the old to make room to try again. A clean slate. Another month to temp and chart and record and plan. Another month for hopes to rise. Yet, every time my body would cleanse itself, my spirit was sullied with grief, anger, jealousy and fear.

I always trusted my body, until it didn't do what I wanted it to do. Or what I though it should do. My body had always done what I wanted it to do, before! Finally, I realized that I had a defect. For all I knew, my body could have been aborting a possible baby every cycle. But that was just it, my body didn't understand to keep it, and it would begin the cleansing process before it even knew whether or not it was necessary.

Day and night, I would suckle my needy toddler, with tears in my eyes. Weaning him could be the answer. But I couldn't do it. I knew he needed to nurse. Would it be right to take something away from the child I have to -maybe- get a child I want? *Note: I still have not weaned Bug. In several months, I will probably do a post on nursing during pregnancy.

That child I already have been blessed with brought other questions forward as well. If I already have a young child, did I have a right to mourn my infertility? Did I have a right to claim infertility? I had been wanting to get pregnant for a whole year! By medical standards, I was infertile. Did breastfeeding change that? Maybe. But it didn't change my desires.

I know that there are probably women that are jealous of me and my one child. And I was jealous of women who are expecting or already have two. Did my one child make my sadness any easier? To a woman who strongly desires a(nother) child, but cannot get pregnant, I think there is little solace.

Many women experiencing "true" infertility may not appreciate the difficulty of the situation I was in, just as I could not fully appreciate their difficulties. But, if I am able to get one point across, I wish it to be known that infertility of ANY kind or duration, is difficult if a woman truly desires to get pregnant.

So, every time I began another cycle, I would swallow my pride. Through my grief, anger, jealousy and fear, I would pray for strength, faith, patience, health and hope.

And sometimes, even if it doesn't seem like it, we have a loving Heavenly Father who is watching over us. He knows our desires. He knows our struggles. And He knows the best way to bless us, and the right time to bless us. In hindsight, our struggles always look easier than what they really were. Heavenly Father knows how difficult things are for us. But if we remember Him always, He will bless us in the most unexpected and marvelous ways!

Top Ten Reasons Why....

So, I wrote the best post over a MONTH ago. I had this post all planned out prematurely, because I thought it would be really cute. But what I conceived would be the situation, didn't really fit the situation. I have re-written the post completely on the sperm of the moment. And I have impregnated it with a lot more hilarity than I had originally planned. In fact, I may be pushing it a little bit!

May I present to you the Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Not Write A Blog Post About Something That Hasn't Happened Yet. (I know, it's a mouthful of a Top Ten list!)

10. You are likely to get the date wrong.

9. It hasn't happened...yet.

8. All the funny things you wrote in the post actually had nothing (kind of) to do with the topic of the post.

7. It hasn't happened...yet.

6. No matter how great the post is, it doesn't matter unless you can see the future.

5. It hasn't happened...yet.

4. It might make you cry when you realize it hasn't happened yet.

3. It hasn't happened...yet.

2. You would feel like an idiot if you went ahead and posted it, even though it hadn't happened yet.

And the Number 1 Reason Why.....(I'm not going to type the whole thing out. Honestly, it's just ridiculous!) ....is: It is always better to write a post about something AFTER it has happened!

But wait, you weren't expecting that to be the end of this post, were you?? You all want to know what I had developed in that other post, don't you??

Well, my old post was the Top Ten Reasons Why I Might Be Pregnant.  But all those reasons (as I was getting really excited) ended up being just plain, old PMS. This month, however, there were no signs. (Ok, there were signs, but I would have to do a whole post about FAM before I could share them!) The whole post I had formulated, the one that I thought would be so adorable to make a big announcement, didn't fit when it actually came time for that big announcement!

So, without further ado, I am pleased to announce that I am gestating a speck! Soon it will be more than a speck. Soon, as in around September, I will have baby number two! I couldn't be more pleased!


Here is my (prematurely written/consequently edited) post on hope during infertility.

Oh, Christmas Tree...and other wintry stuff

Christmastime with a toddler in the house is interesting, to say the least. Last year, Bug was just crawling. We put our little 4' tree on a table and he couldn't reach it. No problem-o. THIS year, however, Bug is a running, jumping, climbing, maniac of a daredevil. The tree is still on that table, but raising it a couple feet really hasn't done much. Our poor tree is feeling quite naked from the waist down! (And all the ornaments are hidden throughout the house in Bug's multiple secret hidey holes!) Thankfully, I remembered to put all the delicate ornaments on top of the tree. That should keep them safe...at least until Bug pulls the whole tree over. He hasn't done that yet, but I wouldn't put it past him.

Speaking of pulling things over, our stockings hanging from our mantle are apparently a hazard to curious toddlers. But, it only takes pulling a heavy stocking hook down on you one time before you learn that it hurts and you don't want to do that anymore.

Under the mantle, is a fireplace (what else would there be?). Oh, the fireplace. Practically since we've moved into this place, we have had the fireplace tied shut. Naturally, I didn't think to do that until after I had to pull a sooty toddler out of it before church one Sunday morning...and try to clean off his white shirt and black pants and pale skin...while we were already running late. You know, that's a funny thing about soot. It looks black on white, and grey on black. You just can't win when you crawl into a fireplace!

But that isn't the only bad thing about the fireplace. Now that it is getting cold, we have been building attempting to build fires at night. Bug always wants to help. He gets into the wood. He gets into the tinder. He gets into the kindling. He gets into the lint (which, by the way, hasn't really been helping to get a fire going...thanks a lot Girls Camp!). He plays with the fireplace tool set. Luckily, I haven't caught him running around the house with the stoker yet!

Oh, that fireplace. My husband is an Eagle Scout. And I have had my fair share of scouting education. But still! We can't get a fire going in that stinkin' fireplace. We usually get a good 5 minutes of teasing before the whole thing fizzles out on us.
[Update: Yes, the flue was open when we were building the fire. We just didn't have good, seasoned wood. Once we got better wood, we were able to create a lovely fire!]

No matter how much I love having a blanket of snow (we haven't had one yet), singing Christmas music (I have a sore throat), a cup of warm hot cocoa (are we out of milk?), and a crackling fire (or smoldering pile of ash)...can't it just be Spring again?

Crock Pot Lament

I really think it is still way too early in my marriage for me to be replacing all of my kitchen appliances. But for some reason, they seem to all be breaking. One thing I know, it sure as heck isn't MY fault they are all breaking!

Our hand mixer wobbles, screetches and screams when we turn it on. Of course, that doesn't keep me from using it when I need it, but I prefer to turn it off as soon as possible. The reason: "I was creaming butter and sugar to make cookies." -the Husband

I suspect that the butter was frozen. Really, really frozen.

Ok, so I haven't had to replace the mixer (yet) and there is only one other thing: the Crock Pot. But it still feels like all of my kitchen appliances!!!

But let us get to the reason for this post. The Crock Pot. Mom's best friend and tool in the kitchen. All you have to do is dump your whole freezer into the pot and you will have a delicious meal in 6-8 hours. It never burns. The meat is always tender. The veggies are always perfect. You don't have to stir. It never dries out. Seriously, I'm conviced I could put something in the Crock Pot and come back to it a month later and it would still be delectable. THAT is how much I love my Crock Pot.

But beware of toddlers in the kitchen and cords that are hanging within reach. (I bet I don't even have to finish this story!) Oh yes, Bug pulled the cord of my Crock Pot. He used his amazing strenth and brought down the whole thing. LUCKILY, it was empty. And the lid wasn't on it. And the ceramic pot didn't break. And it didn't crush my kid. Apparently, the actual pot was cushioned in the landing by putting all the weight into the electronic doodad that makes the whole thing work. The doodad doesn't make the thing work anymore. Even my electronically savvy husband was unconvinced that he would be able to fix it, even with his soldering gun and...goggles.

So, I said a sad farewell to my old Crock Pot. I went a couple of weeks without one before I died. Er...well...not really. But it didn't take long before I convinced the hubby that we HAD to buy another one. And another one we did buy! It's pretty cool (literally, it has cool touch sides)!

I couldn't be happier! And we're having a Crock Pot dinner tonight!

Blame the Baby

Ahhh....has it seriously been a whole week since I last posted? I keep thinking that I will get back into the blogging groove, but it just isn't happening. Apparently, I have too much stuff going on during the holidays. You should expect the blogging to continue to go slowly...probably until January. Uhm, or March. Who knows!

Anyway, I thought I would share at least a little story that is marginally funny (if you are in the 7th grade). This is one of those stories that happened months and months ago (when Bug was only crawling) and it has been written down in "Mallory's short hand"on a yellow sticky note next to the computer (with all the other yellow sticky notes), waiting for the right time to actually get posted (I guess that is today). And, now that I have started typing this all out, I think this introduction to the story is actually longer than the story.

So, we love going to book stores. We have a Borders book store that is the closest, so we usually go there. As soon as we walk in the door, I head for the pregnancy/childbirth/breastfeeding/parenting/whatelsecanIputafterthisslash section. I also had Bug with me, so I plop him down to crawl around and chew on books. And I squatted down on my haunches to get to the bottom row. And as I squatted down, I definitely passed some gas. Audibly. It was small and kinda cute in that totally gross way, but definitely audible. I quickly looked around to see if I could just get away with it. But there was a lady standing within earshot. I KNOW she heard. So, naturally, I blamed the kid.

"Oh, Bug! I heard that! You are the root'n'est, toot'n'est cowboy in the wild, wild west! Aren't you!?" (We always tell Bug he is the rootnest, tootnest cowboy when he farts.)

And then, I found my book, grabbed Bug and got the heck out of there.