Loving Hannah

But to Hannah he gave a double portion, because he loved her, though the Lord had closed her womb. And her rival used to provoke her grievously to irritate her, because the Lord had closed her womb. So it went on year by year. As often as she went up to the house of the Lord, she used to provoke her. Therefore Hannah wept and would not eat. (1 Samuel 1:5-7 ESV)

Oh Hannah, I can so relate.
I too had a closed womb. No one knows how painful it is to not be able to do something as simple as bear children. In fact, it's very very painful . I thought I was over it all, when I became a mother through the gift of adoption. Then I had a hysterectomy and it brought it back again. It became completely real because all hope was lost at that point. I wasn't going to have a biological child.
Immediately after surgery, I lost a lot of weight. I looked the best I had in years. I went from a 18/20 to a 12. I was feeling great, gaining strength and vowing I was over it all.
But I wasn't.
Obviously.
There is a layer in my psyche that doesn't want to deal with it entirely. Due to that, I continue to stuff my feelings and not confront them. My object of control is food. I choose comfort foods and convenience foods because it's just easier than to face my feelings.
Like Hannah, I took a double portion (of everything it seems). I know intimately Hannah's pain. I know how it feels when everyone around you seems to be pregnant or just had a baby. Showers were agonizing. I wanted to scream at the pregnant women who complained about their pregnancies, don't you know what kind of gift you've been given???
Like Hannah, I too was gifted a miracle child. My little man is the light of my life and I delight in him. I feel it is a privilege & honor to be his mother . However, there still is an undercurrent of longing. Eventually this needs to bubble up to the surface for healing.
Like Hannah, I remain steadfast in my faith, and I trust in my Lord to heal. I too have used food to deal with my issues (Hannah did not eat, I most certainly did). I know that time heals all wounds, and in time I will be made whole again.
Hannah, you are a spiritual hero.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

For a good chunk of my life, things came easily to me. I was, for a lack of a better term, a golden child. I was successful in school, popular, pretty, what ever. I had the Midas touch a lot of the time. As I have gotten older, that golden touch is as lusterous as it once was, but its still there somewhat. However, I am finding that I am less and less successful at getting what I want.

I used to be decisive, and now I find myself second guessing everything that I do, from nail polish colors to outfits to cleaning.
I would cook dinner and people would rave about it. Now I am lucky if I am the only one who likes what I made.
I am stuck.

I was visiting with an aquaintance of mine the other day after yoga class.

 She looked at me and said straight up, you need to get over that baby stuff.

Huh? Oh yeah, the bottled up emotion over infertility, which has been defining my life since we started trying for a family. My life was consumed with checking my temperature, making charts, taking medications to make me ovulate, taking medications to change my hormonal balance, etc. etc. etc. I have to admit that I never once gave up hope until I had my hysterectomy this past December.
She mentioned that the fact that I gained back all the weight I lost post op, and the fact that it has settled into my belly making me look pregnant.

I looked down and had to agree that I do look pregnant.

Irony.
She is a holistic healer and reiki expert.

 She and I talked over some coffee what I need to do to get over this and move on.

Become unstuck.

I have to make a list of all that I am frustrated with, from simple things like traffic to the really, really big things like infertility and the finality of surgery.

I also have to list my blessings daily, to remind myself of what is good in my life.

I need to find my center daily, and look for peace.

I also need to remind myself why I am eating and exercising.
I need to let go of my greatest sense of pain, either in reality or symbolically.

And never look back.
Honestly, I don't know if I am quite ready to do all of the above yet, but I am ready to start on that journey.
You can't always get what you want. Sometimes, you get what you need.

Someone Saved My Life Tonight

Once upon a time, I wrote an essay that was NPR worthy. Here it is:

We decided shortly after we were married

that we wanted children, but we needed to do things in the right order-you know buy a house, etc.

So we waited. When the time came to begin trying, nothing happened.

We were told by the doctors not to worry, we were still young, etc. etc. So we didn't really worry. Month after month after fruitless month.

On a visit to family, we stayed with my husband's sister and her family,

which includes a boxer named Abby.

Upon returning home, we decided we wanted a dog too.

I have always been a cat person.

 I am not a dog person. Dogs require a lot of work, cats don't. Cats allow you time to read, daydream and late nights. Dogs are much more in the moment. So, despite my hesitation, we went to the local animal shelter. Mentally, I had decided on a small dog, a lap dog, one that you can play dress up with

and put in a purse. I was shocked to find myself falling in love with a newfoundland-lab mix puppy.

We took him home.

I was not prepared for puppydom. He cried and whined. His legs were too short to go down the back steps,

 so I had to walk him to get him potty trained. He was afraid of other dogs. He would do a belly crawl to get away from them. Many late, frigid nights I was walking him around our neighborhood tiptoeing around ice in order not to slip and fall. I was afraid for him. He ate everything, including a rock that was too big to come out on its own and required emergency surgery. I was heartsick as I signed the surgical consent form, but knowing our vet felt he was in good hands.

That summer, I started taking long walks with him.

It was more for me to clear my head and cry softly to myself as each month of being infertile closed a door.

 I cried as I saw women pushing baby carriages through the park. I cried when I saw parents playing with their children. I would hug my dog for dear life some days, because it seemed like he understood my pain. He would tilt his head and look at me with mismatched eyes and tell me it would be all ok.

When my husband and I were told definately that we would not be having children biologically, I took Sonny for a very long walk. It was a cold, frigid day in November. Both of our breath hung like smoke in the air. I don't know how far we went or how many calories were burned, but I felt I was leaving a little bit of my soul on the trail.

We adopted a now 5 year old son this past spring, and he is my light and my world. It has helped heal the maternal part of me. I feel though that I have been neglected my first adoptee.

We don't walk like we used to, and I know that we both miss it. He still looks longingly at me and still loves to cuddle. We do have a deep connection that time won't change. He still acts like an overgrown puppy, still eating everything, although we have now moved onto toys and crayons. He is 2 today, and I have been shocked at how this dog prepared me for motherhood in ways beyond long walks in the park.

I can't put into words how this dog has healed me. He made me feel it was ok. He listened to me cry and wail and rail against the world how unfair life was. He became my focus of my life, because I needed to focus on something else, something to let me heal, to let me become whole again. I look forward to when I come home from anywhere (even just getting the mail) that he greets me like I've been gone forever. He covers me in doggy kisses and his tail thumps and whumps and leaves marks on the wall. He gets excited for all the right reasons, and is always there to cheer you up. He loves his treats and his people. He has adjusted to his new life, and plays the big brother role well.

baby baby

I am not going to lie, I have issues with baby showers still. Ask any woman who has dealt with infertility and many, if not most, will tell you dealing with pregnant friends and family are some of the hardest things to do. Yes, it is incredibly selfish to think like that but there is a certain amount of jealousy that arises. Especially, if you are still in that hopeful stage, where you are wishing upon a star and praying for that baby. For me, having the hysterectomy however necessary it was, was a final slam of the door. I would never, EVER, get pregnant.

I would never have a baby shower.

I would never get to wear cute maternity clothes, like Liz Lange’s line at Target

 or Shabby Apple.

I would never get to decorate a nursery.

I would never get to name a child.

I wouldn’t sing lullabies to my baby as they nursed.

I wouldn’t inhale that sweet baby smell.

I wouldn’t be present for all their firsts and milestones, and every day miracles.

I could never complain about losing the pregnancy weight. I would just be fat because I was lazy and ate too much.

I would never give life to someone else.

It’s a lot of I’s in those statements, but it’s the truth. Infertility stinks. I feel like a failure of a woman, that I am less than because I could not do the one great thing women are supposed to be able to do. There are a lot of less than sympathetic women out there too. I have actually had people act like I was contagious because I couldn’t have kids of my own. It’s a very lonely journey too.

I can’t tell you the number of times I would go into the bathroom and just cry. Or go for a run or a drive and let go of heaving sobs. No one I knew could understand what I was going through because they either had kids of their own or were childless by choice. I wish during all that time that people would reach out and just hug me. I didn’t need to hear any one else’s miracle stories, or about how wonderful adoption could be, or maybe if we just stopped trying so hard, or maybe God had other plans.

I know He did.

Adoption is a wonderful gift and I truly love my son as if I gave birth to him myself, but there always is that what if longing. What if we had started “trying” sooner. What if I had seen a different doctor. All the what if’s…Its been hard to reconcile myself to the fact that I will never know those true maternal feelings, and quite frankly, I am not quite there yet. Add to it, on a lot of levels I still don’t feel like a real mom. Heck, one school mom told me so much that I wasn’t one because I didn’t give birth. I’ve also had people look at me and tell me that I am so brave because I am raising someone else’s problem. Or they ask what’s wrong with my child that he was up for adoption.

Time does soften the raw edges of wounds. I know my Heavenly Father thought it was better for me to love children that were harder to find a forever family for. I know that He had the infinite wisdom to put us in the right place at the right time for the right kiddos. I may have never had the baby side of things, I have had some of the more wonderous moments. I witness miracles on a daily basis in my own home.

Whenever I make a baby gift, I do find myself making it through a veil of tears. That is not to say that I don’t put my heart and soul into making them, its just a little more cathartic each time. Each one is a small step towards wholeness and healing.