A few steps down the path...

There has been so much going on around here lately for us. Some of it has been good, some challenging, but all of it has been a learning experience. Through the past few weeks I've learned more about myself, grown in my faith in God, and learned so much about the people I am blessed to call my family and friends.

We "came out" recently on a popular social networking site in regards to our infertility struggle and our adoption path. Well...I did anyway. My husband was "outed" by default in the process. I did this for several reasons. I've always been open and brutally honest here and on previous blogs about our infertility and the feelings and struggles we've faced because of it, both personally and within our marriage. I have kind of kept a lid on it in other places mostly because I'm tired of the well-meaning ass-vice that people love to give. It's a hard balance to keep sometimes. Well, I'm tired of hiding. If you can have five kids and post a zillion pictures and update everyone about the status of your "miserable pregnancy" then I can say "Hey, I'm infertile and if you don't like what I have to say or the way I respond, then there's the unfriend button, click away honey." I have nothing to be ashamed of because I'm infertile. It's not my fault. It's not my husband's fault, it's not anyone's fault. It's not even God's fault. It took me a long time to realize that. It's taken me a long time to get to the point of accepting that I might never conceive and give birth to a child that is biologically of me and my husband. It hurts to accept that. I'm not going to lie, it hurts bad. There will always be a hollowed out spot in my heart and in our family that I believe belongs to that child that might never be. I will always to long to look at our child and see my husband's eyes, my nose, his cute jutting chin and my chubby cheeks looking back at me. I believe I will always long to have that. But I've gotten to a place where I'm accepting that it just might not happen. I have learned in the past few months that God has a plan that is bigger than I could ever imagine. And I don't believe that God would have put the desire to be a mother in my heart if He didn't have a way in mind to make that happen.

I truly believe that God has plans for us to be parents together. For me to be a mother, for my husband to be a full-time father. However, and what has frustrated me for the past six years is that His plan is not always the same as MY plan. It has taken a lot of prayer, soul-searching, and humbling of myself before I realized that our goals are the same...just the paths are a little different. My path, the path I've been trudging along for five years and five months has been me wandering in the jungle, hacking away at the dense choking foliage with the machete of my iron will. It was dark, stifling, treacherous, claustrophobic, and filled with the scary sounds of jungle creatures and sometimes myself screaming in the night. Most of all it was lonely. Good grief was it fucking lonely. God's path however...how mightily different the few steps I've taken on it have been.

Wait.

Let me back up a bit.

I've already stated here before that several months ago I began to re-explore my relationship with God, or lack thereof. My husband and I sought out and found a church "home" we feel comfortable in and have been attending services regularly (well, as regularly as my nutty schedule will allow anyway). I began taking time daily to read my Bible, and have been reading several books geared toward "new believers" pertaining to establishing a relationship adn walk with God. My best friend and I have had several very interesting and fulfilling conversations about faith, religion and our personal walks and challenges in our faith. I look forward to spending time with her every week not only because we have fun together, but because we can talk faith and I know both of us enjoy that immensely.

One particular book that has totally changed the way I pray and view my relationship with God is called "Just Enough Light for the Step I'm On" by Stormie Omartian. I highly recommend it. She likens our walk with God to that of a child learning to walk. Instead of the goal of INdependence when teaching our children to walk (and in raising them altogether), we must learn that without total DEpendence on God, we are unable to take even the smallest of steps along the path He has laid out for us. I'll be the first to admit, it sounds a bit simplistic at first, but as I've delved further into this book I've found that it's a very comforting premise. I've also learned a lot about the concept of "God's will". For years I've had a knee jerk reaction to those words. My hackles raised, my eyes involuntarily rolled, and I could feel the bitterness bubbling up like acid in my stomach burning a hole right through my soul. Mostly because those words were always prefaced by some well-meaning idiot who decided that it would be comforting to tell me that my infertility or my friends' pregnancy losses were "God's will" and that it was "God's will" that I wasn't meant to have a child. I call bullshit on that one. I have learned that God does have a plan. That doesn't mean that He CAUSES bad things to happen. He doesn't want bad things to happen to His children any more than any loving parent does. He never promise there wouldn't be struggles or hard times. He just promised that He would be there to comfort us if we allow Him to. It is NOT God's plan for any child to die. It is NOT His plan for any of His children to experience loss and disappointment. Bad things happen. Sometimes there are no explanations, and that's hard to accept. It's hard for me to accept, I know that for a fact. But I believe it to be true. God has a plan for me, and there is no way for me with my human eyes, heart and mind to comprehend how awesome it is. I've glimpsed tiny visions of it, because He has allowed me to. He has shone a light just big enough on the path before my feet to let me know I'm going in the right direction.

I have recently changed the way I pray. In all my years growing up in the church, I never truly learned how to pray. I was taught to thank God for what you do have and ask for what you want. That was it. So, for years, that's what I did. I spent the last six years basically begging God to let me get pregnant and to give us a child. To cure me of my infertility and stop the pain of my breaking heart. I spent the last six years hacking my way through the jungle, forging my own path through the wilderness, believing that since God wasn't answering my prayers and giving me a child, that I was being punished. My punishment for whatever I had done in my past that was so heinous was walking the Hell of infertility. There were a few people who tried to get me to understand that this was simply not true. I didn't want to believe them. I believed that I was such an awful person, God decided to refuse the one thing I truly wanted in life. The Bible even says that children are a reward, that if I ask I shall receive. Apparently (in my mind) God had deemed me not worthy of that reward, of that blessing, and I certainly wasn't going to receive no matter how many times/how loud/in how many languages I asked.

It's ok. Go ahead and laugh. I laugh at myself just writing that.

My first step was to accept that my infertility was not and IS NOT a punishment. That was a hard step to take. I am not unworthy. Like a lot of people in this world, I seemed to enjoy playing the "victim card". Woe is me, the lonely bitter jaded misunderstood infertile woman. Granted, infertility is lonely; sometimes we do become bitter and jaded; and a lot of people don't understand it. I see now though, that I overplayed it a LOT.

My second step was to accept that there are things in this life and in this world that I am simply not meant to understand or have control over. As much as it frustrates me and hurts, my infertility and the possibility that I might never conceive a child is one of those things. I don't know why I might never know the joy of conceiving, carrying and birthing a child. And maybe I'm not meant to understand.

My third step was to admit that I am helpless to overcome this aching chasm in my heart without God's help.

My fourth step was to accept that God has a plan for all of us. Just because it doesn't look the way we imagine it SHOULD look or the way we WANT it to look, doesn't mean that it's not a fantabulously amazing plan. God wants us to dream. He puts dreams in our hearts. He put the desire to be a mother into my heart, that I know for a fact. But pursuing dreams that are not in line with His will for our lives will only bring misery, frustration and unfulfillment. I'm learning that more everyday.

My fifth step was to learn a new way of praying. And that was to declare my total and utter dependence on God, ask him to reveal to me his plan for my life, and for Him to show me the path that is in line with his plan for my life.

A few months ago, I said my prayer of "God, I admit that I have no control of this situation, but I do know that you placed the desire to be a mother into my heart for a reason. I trust that you have a way to make that happen, and I am fully dependent on you to lead me down that path. I am surrendering my life to Your will. Please make Your will known to us. If it is Your will for us to be parents, please show us the way and the path we should be moving on".

When I began praying in that manner, praying for God to reveal his plans for us and to make his will known, and when I consciously surrendered the grip of control I wanted to have on my life...things began to change. My relationship with my husband changed. We became softer and more open with each other. We began going to church together, reading our Bibles together, reading a couples' daily devotional together. My relationship with several of my friends began to change. My heart has opened and started to heal enough that I was able to spend an evening with my best friend and her two adorable sons without wanting to run from the room bursting into tears of jealousy and anger. I didn't even feel that when I was with them. I truly only felt blessed to get to witness my best friend, the little girl I've known since the day she was born, who used to sit in my bedroom and play Barbie's and trade secrets with me mothering her children. I didn't feel that old pang of "I can't be here, it's too painful". There was a moment of "yeah, I can't wait for that".

One of my biggest hindrances in my faith is being open to hearing the answers God has for me regarding my life rather than begging him for something and getting pissed off when He doesn't answer the way I think He should. Hmm. Pretentious much? I'm learning that I can't put limits on God. He works in His own way and His own time. Just because we don't get the answer we WANT, doesn't mean the answer is NO. Maybe the answer is "Well, maybe not now."

Soon after I changed my method of praying and truly opening myself up to the answers God was giving me, we heard about the adoption situation I discussed in my previous post. Even though that didn't pan out, we still feel that at this moment, we are being led to pursue adoption. I'm not saying we are giving up TTC. We will probably still keep trying as we move through the adoption process. We always wanted two anyway. The adoption process is going to be a while anyway, so anything can happen in that time.

All of that being said...we have started the process for adopting through our county Children's Division (DFS). I printed out and have begun completing the home assessment application. I contacted several of our friends to ask if we could use them as references. I have a list of items we need to gather to show that we are prepared (materially and physical space wise) for a child placement. A friend from work has donated a crib to us, and several people have offered us clothing from their children or relative's children.

I spoke to a case worker at the Children's Division today and even though I wasn't real encouraged by what she had to say, it was still a step in the right direction. She is mailing us out a homestudy packet and information on the adoption program, and I should get that next week. We have to go through the foster/adopt classes, and unfortunately they aren't having another one until September. We can take it in a different county as long as it's still in Missouri, and they might have one sooner. They will probably come do our homestudy in the next couple of months. As soon as we get the homestudy done and complete the classes and are approved, all we do then is wait for our child! She did say that we will probably have a longer wait because we specified that we are "adopt only" and that we prefer an infant up to 2-3 years old. There's a longer wait for that. But...one thing she did say is once we get the homestudy done, if we find out about a private adoption situation, we can use that homestudy for that and it's one less thing to go through.

Even though I was disappointed in the "hurry up and wait" aspect of everything, I'm relying on God to get me through it. One of the biggest lessons God has been trying to beat into me teach me for years is patience. September is only five months away. This gives us more time to get the projects done around the house that we have planned (remodeling the bathroom, rebuilding our front deck, painting inside and outside of the house).

Everyone we have told about this has been nothing but supportive and incredibly helpful. To be honest, I've been quite amazed at the outpouring of support we have received. I know I have amazing friends and family, but still. It's a little overwhelming when you receive text messages and emails for a full day from people offering help and support.

God is GOOD!!!

Oh yeah, Happy Birthday To Me! I'm 36 today, and although it's a little later than I wanted it to happen, I'm finally on my way to being a Mommy! That's the best present I could ever dream of!!!

(Stay tuned for a fun knitting update post this weekend!)

Another step on the road

Please, no bashing of my beliefs or ideas. While I welcome discussion, insight, or respectful sharing of alternative ideals, attacking comments will be deleted. Thanks.

I haven’t talked a lot about faith and religion in my blogs before.  I guess part of the reason is that I’m not comfortable enough in my own understanding and faith to really delve deep into it, and I am very shaky in my faith.  I falter and question more than I accept and follow.  I haven’t read much of the Bible since I was in my early twenties, and I’m just not comfortable with where I “fit in” in relation to religion and faith.  I have views and values that are/might not be “compatible” with certain people’s beliefs, and it bothers me sometimes to be judged for them by those people.  I think when you’ve been through any life-altering event or struggle people tend to react one of two ways.  They either turn toward God and their faith for comfort and their faith in turn grows as it strengthens and comforts them.  Or they turn their back on the church and God because they feel that God has turned His back on them.  I, sadly, fall into the latter category.  I haven’t admitted that in a long time.  There was a time that I went to God with every concern and prayer.  I gave thanks for what I was given and had in my life and prayed fervently for God to grant us a child.  He didn’t.  I still can’t understand why.  I have been quite bitter about religion, God and church for a long time because of that.  I can’t understand why if I have tried to live my life as a good person, how come I can’t have a child…yet the crackwhore down the street who neglects and abuses her children can have a litter of them?   I just can’t reconcile that in my mind.  It makes no sense.  If someone could explain the justification behind that I would LOVE to hear it.  I have asked God to heal my broken heart but still it remains pained and shattered.  I believe in God…but I don’t trust Him.  I don’t think He believes in me.  I want answers to the questions I have.  I doubt those answers will come any time soon.

I was raised in the United Methodist church. My parents are still active in the same church I grew up in. Throughout high school, I went to church regularly, attended Sunday school, was active in the church youth group, sang in the choir, etc. I listened intently during sermons, read the Bible, memorized Bible verses, was an acolyte and assisted with communion. But…something never felt right. I never felt that “Holy Spirit” at church. I always assumed it was me. That I wasn’t doing something right. And maybe it was me. I don’t know. I don’t believe that I have to go to a particular building on a particular day and recite specific verses and have someone spoon-feed me doctrine in order to be a good person and have a relationship with God. I don’t want someone telling me how and when and what prayers to pray. If I feel the need to talk to “The Big G”, I will. I pray in the shower, driving to work, while I’m dispatching calls, while I’m shaving my legs, sometimes while I’m washing dishes. I don’t care what I’m doing…if I feel a need to pray, I’m going to do it. That didn’t always fly too well with the people I went to church with. I don’t like or agree with what some preachers and “good Christians” believe and teach in regards to women and their relationship to men and their “roles” in life. It was because of this that I was once told that I “had too many feminist opinions” and that my “beliefs didn’t agree with the church’s teachings”, I “asked too many questions” and was told that it might be best if I didn’t return.  So I left and haven’t been back since (except to get married).

For a long time I haven’t felt a relationship with God at all. I felt like I had been forgotten by someone who I had been told my entire life loved me. I felt denied by someone who I had been told would give me what I wanted if I was a good enough person, if I prayed hard enough, and if I worked for it. Well, I did all those things. Apparently God didn’t see fit to answer my prayers. Either that or He deemed me not worthy enough of achieving my dreams.  I have felt betrayed, forgotten, and have been very angry at God and very bitter and doubtful of His very existence. (Which, I believe He’s okay with. I’m sure I’ve done things that He’s not too thrilled with either. Just because you’re mad at someone doesn’t mean you can’t or don’t love them). Well, maybe it wasn’t that God turned his back on me…but rather I turned my back on Him because I didn’t get what I thought I deserved? Perhaps. Like a spoiled brat throwing a temper tantrum. That visual makes me laugh. But I do still believe I deserve a child…why have my prayers not been answered???

One of the biggest problems I have with religion is the so called “Christians” that want to tell me that everything is “God’s will”. That my infertility is God’s will. That "maybe God didn’t intend for me to be a mother”. That “good people are rewarded and blessed with children”. Really? So…God hates me that much that He divinely sterilized me? Honestly, don’t you think someone would have told me this a little sooner so I didn’t waste the last five years of my life banging the sperm heads up against the brick wall of my cervix??? Anyway…I could go on and on about the comments I’ve received from “devout Christians” about my infertility. However, I am working on healing, and that does not seem conducive at this point. (And I am not talking about ALL Christians. Just certain people I’ve had run-ins with. Don’t get all up in arms about me stereotyping people, because I’m not.) I can forgive these people, even though their words were like daggers through my heart. They didn’t know any better. They were simply trying to make themselves feel less uncomfortable in a situation they don’t know anything about. Their ignorance of infertility is not their fault, and I’m glad they don’t have firsthand experience of it. Lord knows I wish I didn’t either. But I do. And it is from that experience that I write. You know, I wish there was a big fat handbook that came along with an infertility diagnosis that outlined how to react in those situations…if only for the value of smacking said idiots upside the head with it.

See, I’m not big on the whole “God’s will” thing. I don’t believe God is up there picking and choosing what to do with us like we are pawns on a giant three dimensional chessboard. I believe we have free will. That doesn’t mean we have the right to commit crimes, or run around all willy-nilly doing anything we want to anyone we want without repercussions. I believe that God provides ‘guidance’; that is, if we pray for direction or answers, He can if He wants, lead us in the direction of the best course of action for the outcome of the greatest good for all involved. Does that even make sense?  We as humans have this wonderful thing called “choice”. There is no right or wrong choice, necessarily. What matters is if the choice I make with the information I have at that particular time doesn’t work out or yields bad results…I have the ability to make a different choice based on the knowledge I’ve obtained. And that’s what having free will means to me. It doesn’t mean that I don’t pray for guidance and answers. I believe that if I pray for God to come into my life, and I ask for guidance…if my heart is open to hearing the answers, He can lead me in the direction that will be right for me and my situation. I don't think God "pushes" us into doing anything though. It doesn’t mean I don’t have guidelines for living my life. I believe in holding yourself to good morals and values, not intentionally harming anyone or anything (unless it’s insects or snakes…or the occasional squirrel that runs in front of my car. I SWEAR…that thing was suicidal!), in being a good person, in being compassionate, charitable and honest. I believe in tolerance of other’s beliefs, lifestyles and opinions (as long as they’re legal), in loving people for who and what they are warts and all, in giving back to the community. I believe in right and wrong. I believe in trying to be the best we can be and through loving relationships with others bringing out the best in them as well.

All of that being said, Matt and I have been talking about going back to church for some time now.  The topic first came up about a year or so ago, but we couldn’t seem to agree on which church to attend, so the conversation kind of fizzled out.  He was raised Lutheran, and I was raised Methodist.  He has his own reasons for falling away from the church, and I’ve discussed mine here.  However…I’ve felt a pull for a while now to go back to church, but knew Matt’s views on it and I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable with it or feel like I was pushing something on him that he didn’t want to do.  He actually came to me the other day and said that he wanted us to start looking for a church to go to.  Seeing as we were raised in different religions, we discussed which churches near us we would like to visit and see which one fit us best.  It’s kind of strange, because although I was raised in the Methodist church, I really don’t have any significant desire that I “have to” go to a Methodist church.  I didn’t know if I would like a Lutheran church, because I know that Lutheran practices and services are a lot closer to Catholic services than I’m used to.  (I don’t have anything against Catholicism, please don’t misunderstand.  I simply mean they are more structured, conservative, formal services).  Methodist services are usually more laid back and informal (at least the ones I’ve been to).  We wound up choosing a Lutheran church not far from our home, because Matt was more comfortable with that, and I really had no preference.  Since he has voiced a desire to return to church, I wanted to nurture that by going with what he was comfortable with.  We attended the Christmas Eve Candlelight service.

I have to admit, I really enjoyed this church, and the service was beautiful (even with all the standing up and sitting down…that truly IS reminiscent of the Catholic services I’ve been to!).  I felt a tiny bit out of place because I wasn’t familiar with the “performance” of the service (for lack of a better word)…not knowing where to sing the parts the congregation sings, the Nicene Creed is TOTALLY different than the last time I recited it at a Methodist service.  But, there was a very comforting and “homey” feel to this church.  I liked it a lot.  Matt wants us to try out a few different churches to see if there’s one we like better, but I’m really leaning toward this one.  I will probably go again on Sunday, to get a feel if I like the regular weekly services as well.

There were several things about the experience that were different from the Methodist services and religion I’m used to.  One of the most significant was the service of communion.  In the Methodist church, communion is open to anyone, whether you’ve been baptized/confirmed/are a member or that church.  However, I learned that in the Lutheran church, you must be a confirmed member of the Lutheran church to partake.  They consider it one of the sacraments, as does the Catholic Church.  Although, at this particular church, if you are not a confirmed member, you can still go forward to the altar during communion and receive a blessing, you just can’t take communion.  You just have to signify that you are not a member by crossing your arms at the altar.  I thought that was really cool, and a lot more inclusive than the traditional Catholic services I’ve been to where you can’t even walk up unless you’ve had First Communion.  I also noted that many of the members crossed themselves at various times during the service.  I was under the impression that crossing one’s self was strictly a Catholic practice, so it was a little different seeing it there.  The last two differences were less significant…the pastor was wearing clerical vestments (a priest’s collar) and in addition to an empty cross displayed in the sanctuary, there was also a crucifix next to the pulpit.  As Methodists, our ministers don’t wear vestments (some don’t even wear robes during services) and we display only empty crosses, not the crucifix.

I’m quite interested to see where this takes me.  As I said before, I have been feeling this pull to return to church for some time, and I’m really glad that Matt has had the same experience.  This might turn out to be something really good for us as a couple.  I know I have a long way to go in rebuilding my faith and that I will still falter and fall.  But, I also know that it doesn’t matter how small the first step is…what matters is that I took it, with my husband at my side.