little happies!

It's been a while since I've joined in with Stephanie's Little Happies link-up, but I've enjoyed reading everyone's posts and they truly put a smile on my face!

{happy #1}
dishwasher!

Our new home has a dishwasher. That may sound unspectacular, but this is the first home since our wedding three years ago in which we have not had to wash each and every dish by hand. Let's just say I'm thrilled and somewhat in awe of its magic =)

{happy #2}
special masses!

On Sunday we were blessed to have mass in our home as part of a married couples' group we're in. Pretty special! And we had our house blessed - a two-for-one special. Then today we had a private mass with a priest of a nearby parish who has a healing ministry. Also really special. Can't get enough of those sacraments!

{happy #3}
adoption books!

I checked out a bunch of books from the library and also ordered one to read, and it's so exciting to be learning about adoption now that it's a viable option. I read "Secret Thoughts of an Adoptive Mother" (mentioned on the Grace of Adoption blog) and it was eye-opening. I liked her honesty, although I would appreciate a Christian "Secret Thoughts" because there wasn't much about prayer or trust or believing that God has meant this child for you and you for this child. But overall it was worthwhile.

{happy #4}
baking!

I had a day off last week and indulged in a baking project in honor of the Assumptions. I made a triple-layer devil's food cake with cream cheese frosting and decorated it with blue sprinkles, twelve stars around the edges, and the message "she will CRUSH his head." Liturgically correct cake if ever I saw one =) And it was yummy too!

{happy #5}
housedog!

Our housemates have a dog, so I guess he's our housedog...? He is adorable and fun and we love him already! He's a Corgy (short legs, big ears) who likes to play chase, tug of war, fetch (if he's in the mood; otherwise he pretends he doesn't understand you). He likes to eat bacon grease and peanut butter, and he doesn't bark at all but has the cutest little howl. We love having a dog buddy with zero responsibilities!

{happy #6}
the weather!

It's been absolutely gorgeous here, especially for August. No a/c, cool breezes, almost-crisp mornings. Ahhhh.

{happy #7}
curtains!

We succeeded in hanging up curtains in every main room except the kitchen, which already had them. The dining room curtains are on a trial period - I like them, but since it's a shared room, our housemates have to like them too, so we're trying them out. I spent about $80 total on curtains and hardware, which I think is reasonable especially because curtains and curtain rods are reusable. I just love how they make our home so homey.

+EcceFiat+

"we were blessed with one"

I recently read this article (thanks to finding it on Catholic Mutt's blog) and not surprisingly, it struck a chord. I've never read anything like it, and it felt both like a breath of fresh air and a painful poke on some tender insecurities (since I've been there, worrying about what others will think when they find out that no, we don't have any children yet).

It also reminded me of an encounter that happened years ago but that I'll never forget.

It was the year after college, and I was a few months into a service year, living with other recent graduates and serving the poor. One blessing among many of this year was that we got four retreats during our time together. It was Fall, and we were on the second retreat, in the beautiful mountains of Colorado. I can't even remember what exercise we were doing, but we were in small groups talking about something or other. I ended up with another volunteer and a middle-aged woman who had come along just on the retreat to help the leaders out.

At some point, I asked her that innocent question that I now dread: "Do you have any kids?"

It's her response that will always stick with me.

She smiled and said, "We were blessed with one."

It wasn't so much the words - although they've stuck with me too - it was the way she said it. It was the complete opposite of objectification (see the article I linked to) or apologizing for having "only" one child. She said, "We were blessed with one" as if that one child was the most precious treasure and most wonderful gift she could have possibly received. And there was something else too in her voice - I heard it even then, and I can definitely relate now - that said without saying that she would have loved to have more, but she was blessed with one. 

"One" being infinitely more than zero!

I remember not knowing how to respond. It felt almost like a reverent silence, the way she said it. I have no idea if she struggled with infertility or miscarriage or both, or whether she married late or her husband died young or whatever. No idea. But wow, what a message of love-beyond-suffering came through in that short little sentence.

Since then, I've been at many Catholic events where a speaker or leader is introduced and we're told that they have a larger-than-average number of children (6, 10, 12, etc.) and everyone kind of gasps and even applauds. That always makes me feel so uncomfortable. It's not like I don't want to celebrate children! But 1) children are not someone's "accomplishment" and 2) would people ever clap for the parents "blessed with one"? My guess is no. And how horrible is that? Is that child worth less because he or she wasn't blessed with a half-dozen siblings? Anyway, I know that's probably my infertile angst coming out.

I would love love LOVE to be "blessed with one." Of course I'd love to be blessed with many! But I pray to God that if we are ever given the completely immeasurable gift of another human person to nurture, raise, and teach how much they're loved, when people ask me how many children I have, I won't say "oh, only one..." as if that one isn't one infinitely loved child of God! but I'll respond like that nameless woman who probably doesn't even remember me: "We were blessed with one."

+EcceFiat+

long overdue update: moving, masses, etc.

Wow, it's been a while! I finally found (made) some time to write while my husband is still sleeping and before I make blueberry pancakes for our big Sunday breakfast (haven't made them in weeks and am having major pancake withdrawal!) We went to mass last night and so have all day to relax, explore a few places around town, and be together.

Lots has happened since my last post:

New home
We're moved in, praise God! As I anticipated, all the stress and work and setbacks of getting ready for the move - which was a LOT; the house needed some last-minute work that we weren't aware of until just before our move - is already but a bad memory. We love our new place - it's plenty big, has lots and LoTs and LOT of windows =) plus hardwood floors and closet space and a nice homey feel already. Our new housemates are great and their dog greets me at the door after work! This whole week I've been hit with a wave of gratitude at our new home and how it positions us to pursue adoption, among other good qualities. Thank you God!

Mass for hope & healing
The weekend before our move, we attended the Archdiocese of DC's second annual mass for hope and healing. It was well attended - more people than last year, even though we personally know of three local couples who wanted to come and couldn't. Similar to last year, I felt so loved just by the mass happening, by priests taking time out of their busy schedules to minister to us in a very focused way. It was definitely an emotional experience. I cried during most of the mass and a lot of other people did too! That was the hardest part for me - seeing others suffer with a cross that I know pretty well, wishing that they didn't have to go through IF too, and grieving with them. It was both the saddest mass I've ever been too but also very healing. And the talk afterwards was fantastic - a personal testimony by a couple who struggled for 6 years. They were blessed with a daughter last year but didn't make their story one of a perfect tidy happy ending. They were honest and open and real and acknowledged that every person's journey is different. Looking around the room, it seemed like everyone was soaking it up, the chance to talk about such a hidden topic so openly.

Another mass for healing
The day before the mass - looks like I'm updating in reverse chronological order! - Mr. M and I were immensely blessed to receive a private healing mass from a local priest. This priest is known for his gift of healing and his willingness to fit everyone and anyone in his schedule, and it's true! Mr. M contacted him requesting spiritual direction. The priest replied immediately, they met that week (while I was out of town) and he offered to have a mass for both of us the following week. I was so touched and felt so loved! The mass itself was intense. I cried through this one too, naturally. Father annointed us both with blessed oil and prayed for healing. He also gave us some beautiful words to ponder about suffering: that the Church "needs" our suffering (in the sense St. Paul talks about "filling up" what is lacking in the suffering of Christ) - that we are offering a beautiful gift to God in our suffering, etc. It was very consoling to hear words of comfort and encouragement from a spiritual Father. Afterwards, he asked whether we'd like to have another mass. Um, letmethink...YES!! So that's in the works.

Current adoption "plan"
...and yes, I hear God laughing! =) Before our move, we had a wonderful long talk about where we envision the adoption process going and when. The tentative plan is: spend all of August settling in to our new home and getting it the way we want it (pictures, curtains, etc.). September-October-November, research different agencies and kinds of adoption: go to information meetings, make phone calls, and pray. By my birthday (Thanksgiving this year!): apply to an agency. Hopefully get accepted, then begin the home study process in January 2015. And go from there.

It may not seem like a lot, but to us even having those very simple steps decided on feels huge! I in no way feel like we're right around the corner from being parents, and I've even tried looking around our new home and imagining a crib in the corner, or little footsteps on the floor, and it just feels too surreal. My hunch is that moving forward with adoption will also mean peeling layers upon layers off my heart of barriers against all things motherhood related. A good but scary prospect!

For now, I am just so happy and relieved to be here, finally, after almost a year of knowing that our other apartment was not adoption-friendly, and after a few months of actual planning and preparation. *huge sigh of relief*

Now onto those pancakes and a big ol' overdue DATE day!

+EcceFiat+

What Song(s) Helps you Get Through Infertility?

Mr. M here.

Songs. We all love them. They move us to joy. They console us. They speak directly to our heart. They can even move us to prayer and a deeper contemplation on many things. Many a night I have sat up listening to music to help me through various situations in life. Last night was one of those nights. Just praying and thinking about the cross of infertility. So I turned on a few songs that helped ease the pain and gave me some reflection. I will share them below along with my very subjective commentary. No effort was made to look up the real meaning behind the song. But this made me think to ask you - what songs help you cope with infertility? Please share them in the comments below.

Here is my current list and why:

Mumford and Sons, After the Storm

The lyrics are so powerful and definitely applies to any struggle: Night has always pushed up day / You must know life to see decay / But I won't rot, I won't rot / Not this mind and not this heart / I won't rot   . . . then the chorus: And there will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears / And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears / Get over your hill and see what you find there / With grace in your heart and flowers in your hair


Mumford and Sons, Awake My Soul

Love the lyrics to this song. These lines seem like my prayer on many nights struggling with infertility: Awake My Soul/ For You Were Made to Meet your Maker

Mumford and Sons, The Cave

Do you see a pattern here? What can I say, I really like this band. It is hard to limit it to three songs. Another great song with good lyrics. These lines resonate with me: But I will hold on hope / And I won't let you choke / On the noose around your neck / And I'll find strength in pain / And I will change my ways / I'll know my name as it's called again

I think of the noose as infertility. Clearly the song is not discussing infertility but this is what I think of when I hear this line, which I think is vague enough to cover all sorts of struggles. Also, I love the line "I'll find strength in pain". Amen. Further, this line resonated for religious reasons "I'll know my name as it's called again." I think of this as referring to Christ calling our name at Baptism. Here is our hope to get the noose off our necks. Of course, I have no idea what the songwriter was going for in these lines, but this is what I think when I hear it.

Eli Young Band, Keep on Dreamin' Even if It Breaks Your Heart

I love the Tom Petty sound and explicit tribute in this song. While the lyrics refer to a kid dreaming to be a big rockstar, the chorus applies to any dream. Here I think of our dream of having a child. No, I won't give that dream up even if it does break my heart.

Nickle Creek, House of Tom Bombadil

Great feel good song. Of course, the fact it recalls Lord of the Rings helps too. Probably could have put here Nickle Creek's song Ode to Butterfly or The Smoothie Song. In my opinion, their best songs are instrumentals.

Don Ross, Klimbim

Peaceful. Mellow. Joyful. I love listening to this instrumental song.

That's all for now! I could have added many more but these are my current favorites.

Mass for infertile couples

For those in the DC/MD/VA area, this is coming up:


Mr. M and I are attending. If you're local and can come, it would be so nice to meet others from blog-land! I will pray for each and every one of you. From reading your blogs, I think I have a good sense of what to pray for, but if you have something specific you'd like me to pray for at the mass, please feel free to let me know in a comment or at eccefiat11@gmail.com. I'm excited this is on St. Joachim & St. Anne's feast day - powerful intercessors!

post-op appt & next steps

We went to my post-op appointment on Tuesday. I dreaded it, dreaded hearing what I knew was coming, that there's nothing left for us to do, nothing medically certain, anyway.

I'm so glad Mr. M went with me. Being an ob-gyn's office, of course there were several pregnant women also waiting for their appointments. Two of them must have known each other, because they were chatting (loudly) about the one's pregnancy (her fourth - all boys) and the other's baby (her third), in for its six-week check-up. It was impossible not to listen to them talk about how the pregnant lady's baby would be 13 months younger than her last child ("I'll pray for you that you get a break after this one!"), and how the other lady has friends who get pregnant within 3 months of giving birth, etc. etc. I couldn't take it anymore and told Mr. M to come get me when they called my name and walked out into the hallway to pace and try to calm down and not get upset even before my appointment. I looked out into the parking lot and prayed the Salve Regina and tried to pray for the two women and be understanding (with minimal success, since I think it's a basic point of courtesy to realize that other people in the ob-gyn's office might be infertile, or have a recent miscarriage, or whatever, and you could save your happy conversation for a private moment).

Anyway. Deep breath. The exam itself went fine; I'm healing well and my incisions have scarred over nicely. Then the part I dreaded: Dr. S says to us gently, "I'm sorry, but you truly have unexplained infertility. There's nothing I could find that explains why you haven't conceived."

Pause in which I am trying not to cry. She asks: "What would you like to ask me?"

What is there to ask? Just to say something, I say, "Is there anything at all you recommend?"

She suggested a drug - honestly I forget it now, but I'll pick up the prescription today - that is generally prescribed to help with ovulation. But we've watched me ovulate in "real time"...but who knows, maybe it has another mechanism that can help. Maybe. (What is it about the human psyche - mine at least - that feels better when given an option, anything, even though there's no reason at all it's a helpful option, rather than no option at all?)

We asked a few other questions, and she also suggested consulting with the next nearest napro doctor if we wanted (about 2 hours away, conveniently near my parents).

"How are you doing with all this?" she asked. I couldn't answer, or I would have cried. Thankfully Mr. M is not as much of a crier and said we're disappointed and sad. "Are you talking with anyone?" Dr. S asked. I said we've seen a very good therapist and have others to support us.

Then there was nothing else to say, and she had other patients to see. We thanked her for all she did for us, and she wished us well. Honestly, and maybe strangely, I wish she would have been more visibly saddened by our situation. She was very compassionate, and I'm sure doctors need to keep emotional distance. But at that moment, I wanted someone to cry with me.

**

So, next steps. Trying the drug Dr. S prescribed for a few months (up to 6), starting next cycle. Maybe going for a consult at the napro office near my hometown. Maybe another thing here or there. I have some ideas floating around, and some suggestions offered by knowledgable friends, but need some time just to sit and be with our new scenario. Not to mention moving! And discerning next steps for adoption.

Mr. M has another next step in mind: Lourdes. He joked that a Lourdes pilgrimage should be part of the napro treatment, right after all medical options are exhausted. We're exploring possibilities and seeing if this is a realistic idea. Of course how fantastic would that be to find physical healing in the waters of Lourdes! But we all know that's not the most fundamental healing, and I am certain that there are dark corners of my heart, perhaps even hidden from me, that are in need of God's healing and mercy.

**

The image I keep coming back to is that of falling. Like a nightmare where it's all dark and you are plummeting through space with nothing to grab on to. It's disorienting and takes your breath away. Sorry, over-dramatic I guess. But it's scary to feel cut loose, like you're beyond even the reach of medicine to help you or explain your situation.

I think this is going to take some radical trust in God, even more than we've been asked to give before. After getting the non-news of non-endometriosis, I realized that somewhere deep inside I was consoling myself with the idea that soon we would find an answer, like an oasis in the desert, the sight of land after being adrift for months. Something to grab and hold onto for dear life.

(Did I - do I - make an idol of an "answer," or of a medical/technical solution to our infertility? Is that what I've put my hope in? That's what I mean by more radical trust - needing to dig deeper and trust that none of this is pointless, that even without a "solution" God has not abandoned us; more: our marriage is meaningful and fruitful even if we feel completely adrift.)

Because it seems that answers are not forthcoming. Maybe something will become more clear later. But maybe not. Maybe we'll never conceive. And maybe we will. But even then, it seems like there wouldn't be anything to point to as the "ah-ha, that's why!" answer, like a simple cause-and-effect, fix-and-succeed thing. If we do ever conceive, how could I think of it as anything other than a sheer gratuitous miracle, an incomprehensible gift with no explanation other than the boundless generosity of God?

Jesus, I trust in you. Help me fall into your arms. Help me trust you in the midst of not-knowing. You are the Answer. You are the Way. Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, of confusion, of sorrow and grayness and grief, you are by my side. Strengthen my trust in you. Free me from my desire to grasp and clutch and control. Let me be a child in your arms

+EcceFiat+

unexplained infertility

Thanks to taking time off from work to recover from my surgery, I've had more than usual time to think about and process the surgery. And the phrase I keep coming back to is this one: "unexplained infertility."

More specifically, what I'm thinking about is this: after the surgery, Dr. S told my dh that we're basically at the end of napro options, given what we've done so far and given that no test has shown anything abnormal. We're going to meet with her on Tuesday, so maybe she'll elaborate more, but I get what she's saying. From reading other people's blogs, I'm aware that napro has more to offer than what we've done, but that "more" seems to be drugs that help conditions I don't have or tests to explore abnormalities detectable by symptoms I don't have. (Of course, I'm all ears if someone has a suggestion based on our medical history.)

Dr. S summed it up like this: either we're perfectly healthy and just quite unlucky (quite!), or there's something wrong with us that can't yet be detected by the current state of reproductive science. Neither of those premises is very comforting.

In other words, unexplained infertility.

I think Timothy O'Malley put it best in his beautiful essay "Waiting for Gabriel: Learning to Pray Through Infertility":

"Month one passed.   Month two passed.  Month three passed.  Six months later, our home became the anti-Nazareth, as we awaited an annunciation that never came.  The hope-filled decision to conceive a child became a bitter task of disheartened waiting.  After a year, we began to see a barrage of infertility specialists, who based upon test results, concluded that we should be able to have a child.  No low sperm counts.  No problem with reproductive systems.  All in working order.  The verdict:  inexplicable infertility.

"Unexplained infertility is a surprisingly miserable diagnosis.   Something about my psyche was prepared for a scientific explanation.  One in which the very fine doctors with advanced degrees from Ivy League institutions acknowledged that unless an act of God intervened, no human life would emerge from intercourse between Kara and me.   Indeed, a fair number of tears would have been shed on both of our parts.  But with the diagnosis of unexplained infertility, conception is scientifically possible.  With every slight change in Kara’s monthly cycle, a glimmer of hope rises in our hearts, only to be dashed with the arrival of menstruation.  Kind-hearted family, friends, and colleagues, who learn about our infertility, share stories about a mother or sister, who finally became pregnant.  They recommend “doctors”, who have a proven track record of curing infertility.  But unfortunate for us, we have no way of knowing if we will one day join the ranks of the middle-aged first-time parent.  And every trip to a doctor is a risk, because once again, we start to hope.  Aware now, of course, that hope alone does not fill one’s home with children."

"A surprisingly miserable diagnosis" pretty much hits in on the head. Surprising, because nothing is wrong with you. Miserable, because of course something is. It is not normal to make love to your husband for three years - on the "right" days, I might add - and never even need to take a pregnancy test because AF always arrives right on time. It is not normal to go even 6 months of "fertility-focused intercourse" and still be un-pregnant. "Not normal" usually means in the health context a disease. But no disease has been found. "All in working order."

I would add to O'Malley's description that unexplained infertility is enough to drive you batty.

Something must be wrong. But it's undetectable, like a parasite or something horribly icky that steals your life without you even being aware of its presence. 

If nothing is wrong with our bodies, then what? Is it diet? Is our timing just less-than-perfect enough to "miss" every month? Do we not exercise enough? (I know the answer to that one!) Are we "doing it" wrong? The huge non-answer of unexplained infertility opens up like a black hole of a million other non-answers, unanswerable questions that are enough to keep me up at night (literally).

At the end of the day, it comes down to control. (Doesn't everything?) I want to have a problem with my body that can be fixed. Not an unfixable problem, mind you. That's a whole 'nother kettle of fish and I can't claim one second to know what that would feel like. Just a nice manageable textbook problem that doctors can fix right up so we're good as gold. Living in what feels like a perpetual state of uncertainty and the unknown makes me anxious, makes me feel somewhat ashamed (I can't get pregnant and I don't even know why? double whammy), and most of all makes me feel completely out of control. I can't find or even start to guess what the perfect pill, potion, food, diet, fad, activity, would even be. I feel stuck in the dark.

That's enough for now. Sorry for the wet blanket. I'm going to go rejoin my husband and watch the World Cup and try for the millionth trillionth time to give it to God.

St. Anne, pray for us. St. Jude, pray for us.

+EcceFiat+