This morning, when I awoke, I opened up the bedroom door to see Molly and Sammy basking in the sun's slanted rays. Drew had gotten up early to go grocery shopping before Meijer got busy, and I decided to open up the shades in our darkened bedroom to let in the light while I watched "Meet the Press" (something about actually being interested in watching a show like this, or being an NPR junkie during my morning commute, or finally understanding the humor of the sitcom M.A.S.H. makes me feel very adult, I think to myself) and drank a cup of coffee. What surprised me is that when I opened the shades, I was startled to see so much snow on the ground. It's late February, sure. We had snow on the ground yesterday, sure. We probably have a good 4-6 weeks of winter left around these parts, sure. So, why the surprise?

For some reason, this year's winter has not seemed as bleak and depressing as the past couple of winter seasons. I think we have gotten a little more sunshine than is typical for us, sure, but it is more than that. I think that, in my mind, I have already entered my own "spring" of sorts. With the flipping of the calendar page from 2007--and that dreaded two-year anniversary, bittersweet in its happy celebration of our wedding day, yet saddening in its reminder of two years of trying to start a family without success, now behind us--I have felt as though we are starting fresh, entering a new season in our "trying to conceive" journey. This past week's surgery has also provided me with a lot of hope. A big obstacle has been removed (literally). Everything else looks normal. Even more than that, I have been succeeding more than ever in not letting the negative feelings overtake me. Sure, I still cry and feel sorry for myself, oh, about once a day. But, considering the circumstances (that I am continuously surrounded by co-workers, friends, and family members who are either pregnant or raising infants), I'm starting to gently remind myself that is okay. It is okay to be sad. It is okay to see the babies and be wistful for my own, or think about the precious one we lost last year. What isn't okay is to let that sadness morph into anger, jealousy, and bitterness. Of course, this happens. Of course it does. I am a flawed person, and for sure, I feel that whole range of emotions from time to time. But I think the difference is that I'm learning how to better manage my feelings, to channel them in the right direction.

I think, now more than ever, I need to focus on what is possible instead of what could go wrong, what could not happen. I guess, what I'm saying in a very non-direct, rambling way, is that I'm trying to have faith. Faith is not something I'm entirely comfortable with, I'm realizing. I've written before about how, in order to accomplish something or overcome an obstacle in the past, I've usually just needed to focus on it, and work hard, until I got where I wanted to go. I believe in the power of hard work. I do. But I'm also realizing it is just not enough in this life. I cannot control this life. I cannot plan where it is going to take me, though Lord knows I've tried over and over. There is simply nothing left to do but let go. I cannot do this myself. I cannot fix this on my own. This whole process is bigger than me, and more and more it is becoming clear to me that perhaps I was hand-picked to endure this particular hardship for a reason. Perhaps I'm supposed to be a comfort to someone else who is experiencing the same thing. Perhaps my ego needed to be knocked down a few notches (i.e., "See? You can't get an A+ in baby-making, now can ya? You cannot win or succeed at everything, no matter how hard you try...life will not be handed to you on a silver platter...milestones checked off your exhaustive list in the order you so meticulously planned. You are not the boss, applesauce, I am."). I have struggled with faith on and off for quite a few years now. Perhaps going through my divorce, and now struggling with infertility, is "someone's" way of saying, "Hey, you! Yes, YOU! I've been trying to get your attention, but you just keep ignoring me.What is it going to take for you trust me and relax? I have a plan."

Of course, I don't know this for sure. No one knows for sure why her life takes a certain turn, though it often becomes more clear after-the-fact. All I know right now is that, during these trials, I have turned to the comfort of prayer. I feel that there is someone up there listening to me, and I feel the strength to carry on a little longer...now, just a little longer...okay, just a little longer...welling up inside me.

Having faith and hope, through prayer, is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. And I am feeling that, perhaps, this is where I needed to end up in order to come to that determination.

-Em

Within just the last few weeks, I've started to make myself imagine a life different from the one I have imagined consistently since childhood. When I was a little girl, I loved playing house. I always wanted to be the mommy--never the baby, and surely not the "teenager." I never felt comfortable unless I was the one doing the caregiving--not the one receiving. I loved making sure the others were well taken care of, the feeling of nurturing (okay, and maybe, just maybe, a little of the controlling part, too. ) I'm sure part of this stems from being the oldest daughter in my family of four siblings (and, even though I had an older brother, I was often called on to "be in charge" of the other three when my parents were out).

I think it is healthy for me to at least try to imagine a life for myself that doesn't include being a mother to children of my own. I'm not trying to sound as if I've lost all hope that I will get pregnant again some day, or be able to carry a child to term this time. I'm not saying that we'd never consider adoption, though many of the horror stories I've heard lately render me just as helpless feeling as now, without having any control over my "defective" body.

So, I'm trying to imagine what it would be like, not having children. Isn't it weird that I've honestly never even considered such a scenario? I think it is time to at least consider it. I'm learning that I am not strong enough--emotionally resilient enough--to carry out our fertility efforts for many more years to come. We have set a "deadline" of sorts for ourselves. If we aren't making any sort of recognizable progress this calendar year, we will be throwing in the towel on our efforts to conceive a child of our own (at least with a specialist's intervention). Three years, for me, is enough...if only because working with a specialist is so all-consuming, so time-consuming, that I cannot do it while not, at the same time, completely dwelling on it. For me, the two can never be mutually exclusive. And I don't want to spend more years of my life in this state of mind--being this disappointed, being this upset with myself.

A life without children wouldn't be so bad, right? I mean, lots of couples choose this route every day without batting an eyelash. So why is it so hard for me to envision? My writing career could begin in earnest...no excuses left not to truly "launch" my freelance writing career, as well as become the novelist I've always dreamt of! Think of all the vacations we could take, Drew and I, with that money we've been reserving for a family? We could be the cool, quirky aunt and uncle to our many nieces and nephews and pseudo nieces and nephews. Maybe seeing all of our brothers' and sisters' children and good friends' children on visits would be enough after all?

The future...the older I get, the more unsure I am about what it might hold. Makes you wonder how we could be so sure of it when we were young.

-Em

I stumbled upon this quote the other day, and you know how, when something really resonates with you, it sort of just stops you in your tracks completely? That's how seeing this quote was for me. 

"A real friend is one who walks in when the rest of the world walks out." -- Walter Winchell

Friends come and go; some are meant to be in your lives for a period of time, then their purpose has been served. Some friends are meant to be lifelong friends, and stay with you, through every up and down, always. Some friends become a part of your life, leave for a while, and then come back. There are all sorts of friends in this life, and I think the thing I struggle with the most is understanding who falls into which category. I took a personality profile once, and it said that if I count someone as a friend, I have really opened my heart, made myself vulnerable, and said, "I trust you--and I don't trust a lot of people--so please don't let me down."

Now, of course, that is a dangerous position for me to put myself in. Many times, I've said that I'm one of those people who is "all or nothing" when it comes to my friends. Maybe I expect too much out of some people, and that is why some friends slowly fade out of my life. Even so, I know that I am who I am, and my expectations when it comes to friendships probably won't change too much, even if doing so would be easier on me emotionally, in the long run.  The same holds true with all relationships, really--romantic or otherwise. And with family--although your family is your family, and they'll always be a part of your lives, no matter what.

--

Life is weird. I don't even know how to describe how surreal the past 7 years of my life, since graduating from college, have been. The things that've happened that I couldn't have predicted, even if I'd've had a crystal ball. Life certainly does throw us some curve balls, doesn't it? This week has been incredibly emotional for me, and amidst all of my grieving for my unborn child, I happened across a note from my ex-husband. I was looking through a stack of recipes, and a note from him slipped out. He must've tucked it in there before we each split our belongings and sold the house we'd bought together, knowing that I'd find it someday. Who knew it'd be more than four years later? I had a dream about him and his family the night before, and that's why it was so surprising to all of a sudden see this note from him, materialized, in front of me, as if he wanted to finish our "conversation" and provide us both some closure. In my dream, I was assured how happy he is now--re-married and with children of his own--and how he understands now why the divorce was the best thing for both of us. I don't know for sure if this is how Matt's life turned out or not, but I sure hope so. I hope he's found that happiness we couldn't ever seem to find in each other.

-Em