I was just thinking today of how much I LOVE my husband and I decided to make a short count down list of the reasons why.
8. He’s a light sleeper. I am up at LEAST once during the night to pee and eat chocolate, and he always rolls over and puts a hand on me to let me know that he’s still there and he loves me. In fact, this past weekend, he woke me up during a particularly nasty dream I was having about sharks and shallow water (which he probably doesn't remember doing) because I was making noises like I was scared. It’s nice to know in the middle of the night that I’m not alone.
7. He does the laundry. You need to understand– he does ALL the laundry. The washing, the drying, the folding, the hanging. ALL of it. Plus, the laundry room is kinda of scary at night when the lights are off. The bogeyman lives there. So I rarely go there, especially when its cold out, and when I do I am usually running for my life in about 5 minutes because I can feel his eyes on me. So I don’t really do the laundry that much. My husband, though I KNOW he finds me ridiculous, has taken on the chore of doing laundry so I don’t have to sacrifice myself to the bogeyman. Good man.
6. He loves to be outside. Yes, I know, this is silly. But I am inherently lazy. I would much prefer to laze on the couch and read a book than go outside and play tag, take a walk, ride my bike, or anything else. My husband gets me on my feet and into the fresh air, which is a very good thing.
5. He’s absolutely 100% supportive of my obsession with babies. Doesn’t matter to him that I end every lovemaking session with a pillow under my hips. Doesn’t matter to him that we have to do it every night for a week to catch when I ovulate(back when I was). Doesn’t matter that I used to wake up every morning, including weekends, at 5am to take my temperature. He’s amazing like that.
4. He’s as into cooking as I am. I love to try out a new recipe or new style of food. He loves it as much as I do, and there have been nights where I’ve come home from work and he’s made us a gourmet meal. Love that.
3. He’s incredibly intelligent. And can always conjure up a stimulating conversation. He loves me for my intelligence, too; a big deal for me, since my intelligence is not as evident as his.
2. He makes me laugh. We laugh all the time; about family issues, about trying for a baby, about pretty much everything. It reminds me not to take myself and my life too seriously.
1. He loves me unconditionally. No matter what happens, no matter where we go, he’ll always love me. I’ve never really had that whole “unconditional love” thing before, and it’s amazing to know that even if we fight, even if I’m a raging witch for a day, he’s not going to leave me.
I can’t tell you how lucky I feel every morning when I wake up and look at him. He’s the most amazing man, and I sometimes can’t believe I actually got to marry someone like him.
Hun, if you're reading this, which I know you are because you are SOOOO supportive, I LOVE you! Just wanted you to know.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
To All Who Are Trying
"Beyond the very extreme of fatigue and distress, we may find amounts of ease and power we never dreamed ourselves to own; sources of strength never taxed at all because we never push through the obstruction."
-William James
I know I can't expect others to know how this all feels, but I do in fact know how it feels and I want to be able to say comforting and real words to those struggling through infertility. As the quotation above says, we don't know how much strength we have until we push through that obstruction. So I guess my message to those still trying hard for their baby is don't stop trying. I am saying to you that despite failure, don't stop. Keep finding ways to try, even if it pushes you to where you never thought you could go. Do not give up. Every single person going through infertility has this drive to break through obstructions - you live it everyday, you prove it everyday. So I just wanted to be a reminder of that.
-William James
I know I can't expect others to know how this all feels, but I do in fact know how it feels and I want to be able to say comforting and real words to those struggling through infertility. As the quotation above says, we don't know how much strength we have until we push through that obstruction. So I guess my message to those still trying hard for their baby is don't stop trying. I am saying to you that despite failure, don't stop. Keep finding ways to try, even if it pushes you to where you never thought you could go. Do not give up. Every single person going through infertility has this drive to break through obstructions - you live it everyday, you prove it everyday. So I just wanted to be a reminder of that.
See... I'm learning
As you can see from my last post, I have learned how to add pictures to my blog. Yay!
When You Care Enough To Send the Very Best
Now on the one hand, I see this as a breakthrough in mainstream media to include a card about infertility. It is getting the topic out of the shame closet and showing how prevalent this problem is and that it's okay to say something to an infertile person instead of running for the hills because you are too uncomfortable with it. So I do applaud this. But my first reaction to the card was a big giggle at how cheesy this seemed. Saying it with a hallmark card has never really been my style anyway, but I tried to think hard and honestly about how I would feel if I got this in the mail from a friend. Would I be really happy that a friend thought of me or would I feel like this was a lame way of avoiding talking with me about it?
I'm probably being too harsh because in the end I have a hard time figuring out what I want from people. I really don't want packaged responses from people about my losses or infertility because it makes me want to strangle them. I despise when I sense a person is so uncomfortable with the topic or feel they are walking on egg shells around me. Sometimes I don't want to feel like a freak and don't want people to talk in a pitied tone to me. But then sometimes I get so angry when people just ignore my losses and pretend nothing bad has happened. So what do I want from people? A hallmark card? In the end my mood plays a huge part in all this. I guess my preferred interaction is when a person can just be real with me. They can frankly say this sucks so bad and is angry along with me that this is happening and doesn't show awkwardness. Maybe I am just asking too much. But the people who haven't been afraid to talk frankly with me about this (hubby, mom, dad, sister and sister in-laws, and 2 close friends) are the people who continue to make me feel the most comfortable sharing my experience.
So Hallmark is making the right step. But of course it got me thinking of some infertility cards I would like to submit to Hallmark for consideration. If they want to get to real words for real life, I got some doozies in my pocket that I can throw out there. What about some of these?
THE SURROGATE SERIES - When you want to avoid awkward questions, send the very best.
For Friend to Intended Parent:
THE NOSEY NEIGHBOR SERIES - When you can't hold your tongue, send the very best.
I kid you not, I actually received this message from a friend in an email (word for word transcription!):
Can you think of any more for Hallmark?
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Untitled #1
I used to write a lot of poems back in high school, and I considered myself good at it. With that said, I decided to try my hand at writing a poem that expresses all the many emotions that I experience as a result of my struggle with infertility. I don't know how good it is, but it presents my raw feelings and thoughts, so please be considerate when commenting...
Untitled #1
It is long, this road, and hard.
So commonplace a destination, yet the easy path is barred.
I cannot see the end, or count the many branches,
or know which one will best fulfill my yearnings.
So often now, I pause and rest; reflect.
What is the nature of my regret?
Is my acceptance worthless, mere illusion;
my early arrogance exchanged for new delusions?
High hopes. False, perhaps,
yet who would choose to blame me for that lapse?
I could demand answers, or rail against fate,
Against the cold, dark universe, and the vagaries of chance.
Instead, I laugh.
Who would choose to be adrift, unknown?
Oh yes, my hubris is surely present still.
It is long, this road, and hard, and I have many miles to travel, even now.
I have many miles to travel, even now,
and many miles behind me. Looking back, I wonder how
this well-trod path ever caught me by surprise.
There is no division, no marker, no border -
just my life, my road, unwavering.
There are the twists and turns I chose,
so familiar, each one greeted with delight.
And the shadows, and the blinding, painful light,
oh, I chose those too,
trusting that my self would see me through.
How different, really, have the last miles been?
Each step, each footfall, ringing on the stones
with no dissonance.
Predictable. Expected. Acceptance of such is easy,
but without bitterness, or cynicism?
I have many miles to travel, even now, and the challenge remains unchanged.
The challenge remains, unchanged,
while I have changed beyond all recognition.
Those early days, I see reflected all around.
And where my hopes were false, my disappointment bitter,
elsewhere, I see every permutation, joy and pain alike.
They seem so shallow now.
Nothing deepens an emotion like time,
its abrasive attrition of the soul
and its healing balm.
My heart reaches out to you, walking those first steps.
I know my pain is deeper, the joys of my future greater,
and I hate myself for living that lie,
abandoning my own early emotions.
There is no pride in this wisdom, this oh-so-brief experience,
and too much truth in blissful ignorance.
The challenge remains unchanged: to learn what may be learned.
Learning what may be learned
is the only recompense I've found.
The colors and details of my dreams are sharpening
even as they fade into the dawn's reality.
Oh, I am different, stronger, and still the same as always;
all this newness was always there,
waiting to be found, or claimed.
Each and every grief is still a triumph,
still a step closer
to the road's end, to my heart, and my heart's breaking.
All life is joy, and grief, intermingled,
and growing all the brighter through adversity.
This consuming nothingness will pass,
and one day, on a different path, I'll once again
reflect upon the time I spent
learning what may be learned, along this road, so long and hard.
Untitled #1
It is long, this road, and hard.
So commonplace a destination, yet the easy path is barred.
I cannot see the end, or count the many branches,
or know which one will best fulfill my yearnings.
So often now, I pause and rest; reflect.
What is the nature of my regret?
Is my acceptance worthless, mere illusion;
my early arrogance exchanged for new delusions?
High hopes. False, perhaps,
yet who would choose to blame me for that lapse?
I could demand answers, or rail against fate,
Against the cold, dark universe, and the vagaries of chance.
Instead, I laugh.
Who would choose to be adrift, unknown?
Oh yes, my hubris is surely present still.
It is long, this road, and hard, and I have many miles to travel, even now.
I have many miles to travel, even now,
and many miles behind me. Looking back, I wonder how
this well-trod path ever caught me by surprise.
There is no division, no marker, no border -
just my life, my road, unwavering.
There are the twists and turns I chose,
so familiar, each one greeted with delight.
And the shadows, and the blinding, painful light,
oh, I chose those too,
trusting that my self would see me through.
How different, really, have the last miles been?
Each step, each footfall, ringing on the stones
with no dissonance.
Predictable. Expected. Acceptance of such is easy,
but without bitterness, or cynicism?
I have many miles to travel, even now, and the challenge remains unchanged.
The challenge remains, unchanged,
while I have changed beyond all recognition.
Those early days, I see reflected all around.
And where my hopes were false, my disappointment bitter,
elsewhere, I see every permutation, joy and pain alike.
They seem so shallow now.
Nothing deepens an emotion like time,
its abrasive attrition of the soul
and its healing balm.
My heart reaches out to you, walking those first steps.
I know my pain is deeper, the joys of my future greater,
and I hate myself for living that lie,
abandoning my own early emotions.
There is no pride in this wisdom, this oh-so-brief experience,
and too much truth in blissful ignorance.
The challenge remains unchanged: to learn what may be learned.
Learning what may be learned
is the only recompense I've found.
The colors and details of my dreams are sharpening
even as they fade into the dawn's reality.
Oh, I am different, stronger, and still the same as always;
all this newness was always there,
waiting to be found, or claimed.
Each and every grief is still a triumph,
still a step closer
to the road's end, to my heart, and my heart's breaking.
All life is joy, and grief, intermingled,
and growing all the brighter through adversity.
This consuming nothingness will pass,
and one day, on a different path, I'll once again
reflect upon the time I spent
learning what may be learned, along this road, so long and hard.
Diet Attempt #5,731,860
So, I decided to start my latest diet yesterday, and I'm proud to say I've gone a day and a half without succumbing to temptation. Whoohoo! That's a record! Ok...not really. But its a hard diet and I think I should be proud of myself. What I'm doing is so crazy it just might work. I am on a strict liquid diet, with the exception of having two servings of healthy vegetables during the day. That's right, just LIQUID!! Right now my meals consist of Citrucel, Isagenix Shakes, Ensure, non-fat milk, water, sugar free juices, V8, Boost, and Soy milk. Sounds tasty right? Actually its not too bad. And I'm not nearly as hungry as I thought I'd be. Its just important that all my drinks have something my body needs and that I take a daily supplement along with it. The vegetables are for extra fiber and protein, and so my stomach doesn't forget how to digest solids. I know its crazy but I've tried everything else, and unless I achieve some significant weight loss, there is NO chance of me getting preggo. Period. So, I put myself through this torture regime for a month, see how effective it is, and if I get results I keep doing it. I'll let you know how it goes!
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Could I Get a Jump Start?
I keep having points where my period almost starts. A little here, and a few days later, a little there. It reminds of a car that keeps trying to start, but just can't seem to get the engine going.
Just Like A Scene from St. Elmo's Fire...
Many often comment about how open I am about my struggle with infertility, my miscarriages, etc.
Some embrace it.
Some don't.
Some wonder why I am like this---"what's the point" they ask.
Well, the point is that 7.3 million people a year struggle with infertility.....as for miscarriages and adoption, I believe it is all under the same umbrella---and I think as a society we need to talk about it.
I am not a girl who believes that if you don't talk about it, it doesn't exist. That's not how I work.
These unpleasant journeys in our lives are real and they are painful. I speak from experience.
But they can also be life changing in ways you never thought possible.
I believe that you should talk openly about these things because you just never know who you might meet. You never know who's been through the same thing or someone who can offer you a piece of valued advice.
But I remember feeling as if I "shouldn't" talk about it.
I remember feeling embarrassed and almost ashamed that my body wasn't cooperating the way it was supposed to.
Now I look back and think really? How did I let myself feel that way? Shame on me.
I probably could have really used some open and honest conversation about what was going on in my life.
What wasn't helpful was feeling like I was living a scene from St. Elmo's Fire.....remember the mother who whispered certain words she didn't want to say out loud? "Cancer" "Drugs" "Prison"?----I am sure "infertility" "miscarriage" and "adoption" would have been on her list too.
Yes, now I can laugh about it. But trust me my friends, this is no laughing matter.
So I decided that I was going to talk about this stuff. I was going to be brave and bring it out into the open. Because of the number of people that infertility affects, we should be talking about this stuff openly and honestly.
Every day I hope that one way or another--- I do my part to make someone's journey through infertility, miscarriage or adoption just a little easier.
After all, doesn't everyone need a shoulder to lean on now and again?
Love much,
Lynda
Some embrace it.
Some don't.
Some wonder why I am like this---"what's the point" they ask.
Well, the point is that 7.3 million people a year struggle with infertility.....as for miscarriages and adoption, I believe it is all under the same umbrella---and I think as a society we need to talk about it.
I am not a girl who believes that if you don't talk about it, it doesn't exist. That's not how I work.
These unpleasant journeys in our lives are real and they are painful. I speak from experience.
But they can also be life changing in ways you never thought possible.
I believe that you should talk openly about these things because you just never know who you might meet. You never know who's been through the same thing or someone who can offer you a piece of valued advice.
But I remember feeling as if I "shouldn't" talk about it.
I remember feeling embarrassed and almost ashamed that my body wasn't cooperating the way it was supposed to.
Now I look back and think really? How did I let myself feel that way? Shame on me.
I probably could have really used some open and honest conversation about what was going on in my life.
What wasn't helpful was feeling like I was living a scene from St. Elmo's Fire.....remember the mother who whispered certain words she didn't want to say out loud? "Cancer" "Drugs" "Prison"?----I am sure "infertility" "miscarriage" and "adoption" would have been on her list too.
Yes, now I can laugh about it. But trust me my friends, this is no laughing matter.
So I decided that I was going to talk about this stuff. I was going to be brave and bring it out into the open. Because of the number of people that infertility affects, we should be talking about this stuff openly and honestly.
Every day I hope that one way or another--- I do my part to make someone's journey through infertility, miscarriage or adoption just a little easier.
After all, doesn't everyone need a shoulder to lean on now and again?
Love much,
Lynda
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
How Big is the Elephant in Your Room?
Constance? Earnest? Stalwart? Fred?
I haven’t named my elephant yet, but I really should since it’s been with me in whatever room I seem to occupy for quite some time now. Yes,infertility comes with its very own elephant – as if we need things to be any more crowded in the places we occupy, or worse yet, in doctor office waiting rooms (Can you just picture it? A room full of couples and their elephants??!)
I haven’t named my elephant yet, but I really should since it’s been with me in whatever room I seem to occupy for quite some time now. Yes,infertility comes with its very own elephant – as if we need things to be any more crowded in the places we occupy, or worse yet, in doctor office waiting rooms (Can you just picture it? A room full of couples and their elephants??!)
Responding to Readers
This is in response to a reader email I received about pity.
"I'm curious to know how you would respond to those who offer over-the-top pity. I know a woman who dramatically talks about our 'empty arms' and repeatedly says how her heart aches so deeply for us.She did a blog entry about us: 'I weep knowing how hard they have tried to have a baby and still have empty arms.' I can't pinpoint why, but her words turn my stomach inside out. Short of avoiding her, I'd like to know a good way to respond to such extreme comments while remaining poised. Often these comments are presented in person and as you may know, it's sure hard to think on your feet when you have to respond in the moment."
I can so totally relate to that uncomfortable feeling. My response would likely be something like this ... "We're trying to move beyond sadness to acceptance. While I appreciate your deep sense of the loss involved it isn't helpful to be reminded of the pain."
I've found the most helpful responses when someone learns of our experience is simply to acknowledge the difficulties we faced with a quiet and sincere, "I'm sorry," or "I admire your strength."
Welcome other responses...
"I'm curious to know how you would respond to those who offer over-the-top pity. I know a woman who dramatically talks about our 'empty arms' and repeatedly says how her heart aches so deeply for us.She did a blog entry about us: 'I weep knowing how hard they have tried to have a baby and still have empty arms.' I can't pinpoint why, but her words turn my stomach inside out. Short of avoiding her, I'd like to know a good way to respond to such extreme comments while remaining poised. Often these comments are presented in person and as you may know, it's sure hard to think on your feet when you have to respond in the moment."
I can so totally relate to that uncomfortable feeling. My response would likely be something like this ... "We're trying to move beyond sadness to acceptance. While I appreciate your deep sense of the loss involved it isn't helpful to be reminded of the pain."
I've found the most helpful responses when someone learns of our experience is simply to acknowledge the difficulties we faced with a quiet and sincere, "I'm sorry," or "I admire your strength."
Welcome other responses...
The Game of Life
Anyone out there remember playing the board game LIFE? It'd been years since I spun the wheel of fate, but last summer while nannying for a friend who has a daughter and a son I was invited to put a pink peg in a car and see what life had in store for me. On the living room floor in between turns I watched a movie and snacked on cheese, nuts and other goodies while this friend relaxed on the sofa.
The game didn't take much concentration since the kids were content to move my car according to my spin result and keep the pay day cash coming my way. I was well into my first can of soda, and nearly to the end of Bolt, when I looked down and realized I was the only car without child pegs. I turned to my girl pal and asked her where I could get my kids. She matter of factly explained, "you've passed the point where you can have kids," before reaching over to refill her snack bowl.
What? You mean there are no fertility clinics on the board where I can dole out loads of cash?
So much for escaping reality. Even in the game of life, I was the "infertile" car.
But there was a silver lining. On the space demanding daycare payment for each child in the care, guess who was exempt?
You betcha!
The game didn't take much concentration since the kids were content to move my car according to my spin result and keep the pay day cash coming my way. I was well into my first can of soda, and nearly to the end of Bolt, when I looked down and realized I was the only car without child pegs. I turned to my girl pal and asked her where I could get my kids. She matter of factly explained, "you've passed the point where you can have kids," before reaching over to refill her snack bowl.
What? You mean there are no fertility clinics on the board where I can dole out loads of cash?
So much for escaping reality. Even in the game of life, I was the "infertile" car.
But there was a silver lining. On the space demanding daycare payment for each child in the care, guess who was exempt?
You betcha!
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Or not...
It seems my earlier post was a little premature. Apparently Aunt Flow was just quickly dropping by to pick up the last of my dignity before leaving with a slam of the door. Sigh...
Friday, March 12, 2010
Things Are Just Going My Way!
Things are looking up! Way, WAY up. Not only did I start my period, which I am attributing to the fact that I dropped my classes and am taking it easy, my wonderful, sweet, husband as been accepted to Texas A&M!! And not only has he been accepted but they are giving him a $5000 fellowship, are paying his tuition, and his health insurance, and are giving him a job with a salary of $1500 a month! Could things get any better? All I need now is a bun in the oven and I'll be happy as a clam. Happier even! So, we are moving down to Houston in April, and staying with his mother until September when we will be moving into a brand spanking new apartment, which by the way, allows pets! Yay! Kitty for me! :) This is just so stinkin' awesome! Anywhoodles, got to go. There is a book calling my name.
Finally!
Its happened! After almost a three month vacation, Aunt Flow is back! And with a vengeance I might add. *wince* But no way am I complaining! This is great! You should have seen my grin we I realized there was blood on the tissue paper. Even better, you should have the seen the happy dance I did about thirty seconds later. How many people do you know jump for joy when TOM is in town? Counting me, that's one! I'm so happy right now I keep giggling at random intervals. Bless you bloated belly, bless you achy back, bless you mind numbing cramps! Ya-hooo!!!
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Stranger in a Strange Land
Finding myself without my regular "poke-n-prod" appointments has been... well, odd. But relaxing too.
It's been so strange to find myself thinking about normal things. About the world beyond my uterus. When you're infertile, and TTC, you lose some of yourself. And I'm not just talking about vials of blood, or your sense of modesty. There's always the shadow of your fertility struggle looming over every thought, and action. You end up feeling like your own evil twin, or a "reasonable hand-drawn facsimilie." You try to think about the greater world, but the stress, anxiety and sadness pushes you back into the hormone-clouded bubble. You forget what life felt like before you became so hypersensitive.
But... without the constant doctors appointments, I'm starting to feel almost human again. I can sleep through the night without waking up drenched in sweat. I can concentrate on my work... well, at least as much as I ever could. I can be intimate with my husband without worrying about laying perfectly still afterward, or praying that it will work this time. We can be intimate when we feel like it, and we do feel like it. I never realized how different making love and making a baby were.
Without the appointments, I feel like I'm learning how to be myself again. It feels strange, but good. I'm glad I'm taking this time for myself, to recover from how hard these last couple of years have been, and to prepare myself for the next part of the fight.
It's been so strange to find myself thinking about normal things. About the world beyond my uterus. When you're infertile, and TTC, you lose some of yourself. And I'm not just talking about vials of blood, or your sense of modesty. There's always the shadow of your fertility struggle looming over every thought, and action. You end up feeling like your own evil twin, or a "reasonable hand-drawn facsimilie." You try to think about the greater world, but the stress, anxiety and sadness pushes you back into the hormone-clouded bubble. You forget what life felt like before you became so hypersensitive.
But... without the constant doctors appointments, I'm starting to feel almost human again. I can sleep through the night without waking up drenched in sweat. I can concentrate on my work... well, at least as much as I ever could. I can be intimate with my husband without worrying about laying perfectly still afterward, or praying that it will work this time. We can be intimate when we feel like it, and we do feel like it. I never realized how different making love and making a baby were.
Without the appointments, I feel like I'm learning how to be myself again. It feels strange, but good. I'm glad I'm taking this time for myself, to recover from how hard these last couple of years have been, and to prepare myself for the next part of the fight.
Monday, March 8, 2010
"An High Priest of Good Things to Come"
This talk was suggested to me by a good friend of mine. It was helpful for me so I thought I would post it here. I hope it gives you as much comfort as it gave me!
"An High Priest of Good Things to Come"
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland
Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don't come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come.
On those days when we have special need of heaven's help, we would do well to remember one of the titles given to the Savior in the epistle to the Hebrews. Speaking of Jesus' "more excellent ministry" and why He is "the mediator of a better covenant" filled with "better promises," this author--presumably the Apostle Paul--tells us that through His mediation and Atonement, Christ became "an high priest of good things to come."1
Every one of us has times when we need to know things will get better. Moroni spoke of it in the Book of Mormon as "hope for a better world."2 For emotional health and spiritual stamina, everyone needs to be able to look forward to some respite, to something pleasant and renewing and hopeful, whether that blessing be near at hand or still some distance ahead. It is enough just to know we can get there, that however measured or far away, there is the promise of "good things to come."
My declaration is that this is precisely what the gospel of Jesus Christ offers us, especially in times of need. There is help. There is happiness. There really is light at the end of the tunnel. It is the Light of the World, the Bright and Morning Star, the "light that is endless, that can never be darkened."3 It is the very Son of God Himself. In loving praise far beyond Romeo's reach, we say, "What light through yonder window breaks?" It is the return of hope, and Jesus is the Sun.4 To any who may be struggling to see that light and find that hope, I say: Hold on. Keep trying. God loves you. Things will improve. Christ comes to you in His "more excellent ministry" with a future of "better promises." He is your "high priest of good things to come."
I think of newly called missionaries leaving family and friends to face, on occasion, some rejection and some discouragement and, at least in the beginning, a moment or two of homesickness and perhaps a little fear.
I think of young mothers and fathers who are faithfully having their families while still in school--or just newly out--trying to make ends meet even as they hope for a brighter financial future someday. At the same time, I think of other parents who would give any earthly possession they own to have a wayward child return.
I think of single parents who face all of this but face it alone, having confronted death or divorce, alienation or abandonment, or some other misfortune they had not foreseen in happier days and certainly had not wanted.
I think of those who want to be married and aren't, those who desire to have children and cannot, those who have acquaintances but very few friends, those who are grieving over the death of a loved one or are themselves ill with disease. I think of those who suffer from sin--their own or someone else's--who need to know there is a way back and that happiness can be restored. I think of the disconsolate and downtrodden who feel life has passed them by, or now wish that it would pass them by. To all of these and so many more, I say: Cling to your faith. Hold on to your hope. "Pray always, and be believing."5Indeed, as Paul wrote of Abraham, he "against [all] hope believed in hope" and "staggered not . . . through unbelief." He was "strong in faith" and was "fully persuaded that, what [God] had promised, he was able . . . to perform."6
Even if you cannot always see that silver lining on your clouds, God can, for He is the very source of the light you seek. He does love you, and He knows your fears. He hears your prayers. He is your Heavenly Father, and surely He matches with His own the tears His children shed.
In spite of this counsel, I know some of you do truly feel at sea, in the most frightening sense of that term. Out in troubled waters, you may even now be crying with the poet:
It darkens. I have lost the ford.
There is a change on all things made.
The rocks have evil faces, Lord,
And I am [sore] afraid.7
No, it is not without a recognition of life's tempests but fully and directly because of them that I testify of God's love and the Savior's power to calm the storm. Always remember in that biblical story that He was out there on the water also, that He faced the worst of it right along with the newest and youngest and most fearful. Only one who has fought against those ominous waves is justified in telling us--as well as the sea--to "be still."8 Only one who has taken the full brunt of such adversity could ever be justified in telling us in such times to "be of good cheer."9 Such counsel is not a jaunty pep talk about the power of positive thinking, though positive thinking is much needed in the world. No, Christ knows better than all others that the trials of life can be very deep and we are not shallow people if we struggle with them. But even as the Lord avoids sugary rhetoric, He rebukes faithlessness and He deplores pessimism. He expects us to believe!
No one's eyes were more penetrating than His, and much of what He saw pierced His heart. Surely His ears heard every cry of distress, every sound of want and despair. To a degree far more than we will ever understand, He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief."10 Indeed, to the layman in the streets of Judea, Christ's career must have seemed a failure, a tragedy, a good man totally overwhelmed by the evils surrounding Him and the misdeeds of others. He was misunderstood or misrepresented, even hated from the beginning. No matter what He said or did, His statements were twisted, His actions suspected, His motives impugned. In the entire history of the world no one has ever loved so purely or served so selflessly--and been treated so diabolically for His effort. Yet nothing could break His faith in His Father's plan or His Father's promises. Even in those darkest hours at Gethsemane and Calvary, He pressed on, continuing to trust in the very God whom He momentarily feared had forsaken Him.
Because Christ's eyes were unfailingly fixed on the future, He could endure all that was required of Him, suffer as no man can suffer except it be "unto death,"11 as King Benjamin said, look upon the wreckage of individual lives and the promises of ancient Israel lying in ruins around Him and still say then and now, "Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."12 How could He do this? How could He believe it? Because He knows that for the faithful, things will be made right soon enough. He is a King; He speaks for the crown; He knows what can be promised. He knows that "the Lord . . . will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. . . . For the needy shall not alway[s] be forgotten: the expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever."13 He knows that "the Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." He knows that "the Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate."14
Forgive me for a personal conclusion, which does not represent the terrible burdens so many of you carry but it is meant to be encouraging. Thirty years ago last month, a little family set out to cross the United States to attend graduate school--no money, an old car, every earthly possession they owned packed into less than half the space of the smallest U-Haul trailer available. Bidding their apprehensive parents farewell, they drove exactly 34 miles up the highway, at which point their beleaguered car erupted.
Pulling off the freeway onto a frontage road, the young father surveyed the steam, matched it with his own, then left his trusting wife and two innocent children--the youngest just three months old--to wait in the car while he walked the three miles or so to the southern Utah metropolis of Kanarraville, population then, I suppose, 65. Some water was secured at the edge of town, and a very kind citizen offered a drive back to the stranded family. The car was attended to and slowly--very slowly--driven back to St. George for inspection--U-Haul trailer and all.
After more than two hours of checking and rechecking, no immediate problem could be detected, so once again the journey was begun. In exactly the same amount of elapsed time at exactly the same location on that highway with exactly the same pyrotechnics from under the hood, the car exploded again. It could not have been 15 feet from the earlier collapse, probably not 5 feet from it! Obviously the most precise laws of automotive physics were at work.
Now feeling more foolish than angry, the chagrined young father once more left his trusting loved ones and started the long walk for help once again. This time the man providing the water said, "Either you or that fellow who looks just like you ought to get a new radiator for that car." For the second time a kind neighbor offered a lift back to the same automobile and its anxious little occupants. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at the plight of this young family.
"How far have you come?" he said. "Thirty-four miles," I answered. "How much farther do you have to go?" "Twenty-six hundred miles," I said. "Well, you might make that trip, and your wife and those two little kiddies might make that trip, but none of you are going to make it in that car." He proved to be prophetic on all counts.
Just two weeks ago this weekend, I drove by that exact spot where the freeway turnoff leads to a frontage road, just three miles or so west of Kanarraville, Utah. That same beautiful and loyal wife, my dearest friend and greatest supporter for all these years, was curled up asleep in the seat beside me. The two children in the story, and the little brother who later joined them, have long since grown up and served missions, married perfectly, and are now raising children of their own. The automobile we were driving this time was modest but very pleasant and very safe. In fact, except for me and my lovely Pat situated so peacefully at my side, nothing of that moment two weeks ago was even remotely like the distressing circumstances of three decades earlier.
Yet in my mind's eye, for just an instant, I thought perhaps I saw on that side road an old car with a devoted young wife and two little children making the best of a bad situation there. Just ahead of them I imagined that I saw a young fellow walking toward Kanarraville, with plenty of distance still ahead of him. His shoulders seemed to be slumping a little, the weight of a young father's fear evident in his pace. In the scriptural phrase his hands did seem to "hang down."15 In that imaginary instant, I couldn't help calling out to him: "Don't give up, boy. Don't you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead--a lot of it--30 years of it now, and still counting. You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come."
I testify that God lives, that He is our Eternal Father, that He loves each of us with a love divine. I testify that Jesus Christ is His Only Begotten Son in the flesh and, having triumphed in this world, is an heir of eternity, a joint-heir with God, and now stands on the right hand of His Father. I testify that this is Their true Church and that They sustain us in our hour of need--and always will, even if we cannot recognize that intervention. Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don't come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come. Of that I personally attest. I thank my Father in Heaven for His goodness past, present, and future, and I do so in the name of His Beloved Son and most generous high priest, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.
"An High Priest of Good Things to Come"
Elder Jeffrey R. Holland
Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don't come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come.
On those days when we have special need of heaven's help, we would do well to remember one of the titles given to the Savior in the epistle to the Hebrews. Speaking of Jesus' "more excellent ministry" and why He is "the mediator of a better covenant" filled with "better promises," this author--presumably the Apostle Paul--tells us that through His mediation and Atonement, Christ became "an high priest of good things to come."1
Every one of us has times when we need to know things will get better. Moroni spoke of it in the Book of Mormon as "hope for a better world."2 For emotional health and spiritual stamina, everyone needs to be able to look forward to some respite, to something pleasant and renewing and hopeful, whether that blessing be near at hand or still some distance ahead. It is enough just to know we can get there, that however measured or far away, there is the promise of "good things to come."
My declaration is that this is precisely what the gospel of Jesus Christ offers us, especially in times of need. There is help. There is happiness. There really is light at the end of the tunnel. It is the Light of the World, the Bright and Morning Star, the "light that is endless, that can never be darkened."3 It is the very Son of God Himself. In loving praise far beyond Romeo's reach, we say, "What light through yonder window breaks?" It is the return of hope, and Jesus is the Sun.4 To any who may be struggling to see that light and find that hope, I say: Hold on. Keep trying. God loves you. Things will improve. Christ comes to you in His "more excellent ministry" with a future of "better promises." He is your "high priest of good things to come."
I think of newly called missionaries leaving family and friends to face, on occasion, some rejection and some discouragement and, at least in the beginning, a moment or two of homesickness and perhaps a little fear.
I think of young mothers and fathers who are faithfully having their families while still in school--or just newly out--trying to make ends meet even as they hope for a brighter financial future someday. At the same time, I think of other parents who would give any earthly possession they own to have a wayward child return.
I think of single parents who face all of this but face it alone, having confronted death or divorce, alienation or abandonment, or some other misfortune they had not foreseen in happier days and certainly had not wanted.
I think of those who want to be married and aren't, those who desire to have children and cannot, those who have acquaintances but very few friends, those who are grieving over the death of a loved one or are themselves ill with disease. I think of those who suffer from sin--their own or someone else's--who need to know there is a way back and that happiness can be restored. I think of the disconsolate and downtrodden who feel life has passed them by, or now wish that it would pass them by. To all of these and so many more, I say: Cling to your faith. Hold on to your hope. "Pray always, and be believing."5Indeed, as Paul wrote of Abraham, he "against [all] hope believed in hope" and "staggered not . . . through unbelief." He was "strong in faith" and was "fully persuaded that, what [God] had promised, he was able . . . to perform."6
Even if you cannot always see that silver lining on your clouds, God can, for He is the very source of the light you seek. He does love you, and He knows your fears. He hears your prayers. He is your Heavenly Father, and surely He matches with His own the tears His children shed.
In spite of this counsel, I know some of you do truly feel at sea, in the most frightening sense of that term. Out in troubled waters, you may even now be crying with the poet:
It darkens. I have lost the ford.
There is a change on all things made.
The rocks have evil faces, Lord,
And I am [sore] afraid.7
No, it is not without a recognition of life's tempests but fully and directly because of them that I testify of God's love and the Savior's power to calm the storm. Always remember in that biblical story that He was out there on the water also, that He faced the worst of it right along with the newest and youngest and most fearful. Only one who has fought against those ominous waves is justified in telling us--as well as the sea--to "be still."8 Only one who has taken the full brunt of such adversity could ever be justified in telling us in such times to "be of good cheer."9 Such counsel is not a jaunty pep talk about the power of positive thinking, though positive thinking is much needed in the world. No, Christ knows better than all others that the trials of life can be very deep and we are not shallow people if we struggle with them. But even as the Lord avoids sugary rhetoric, He rebukes faithlessness and He deplores pessimism. He expects us to believe!
No one's eyes were more penetrating than His, and much of what He saw pierced His heart. Surely His ears heard every cry of distress, every sound of want and despair. To a degree far more than we will ever understand, He was "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief."10 Indeed, to the layman in the streets of Judea, Christ's career must have seemed a failure, a tragedy, a good man totally overwhelmed by the evils surrounding Him and the misdeeds of others. He was misunderstood or misrepresented, even hated from the beginning. No matter what He said or did, His statements were twisted, His actions suspected, His motives impugned. In the entire history of the world no one has ever loved so purely or served so selflessly--and been treated so diabolically for His effort. Yet nothing could break His faith in His Father's plan or His Father's promises. Even in those darkest hours at Gethsemane and Calvary, He pressed on, continuing to trust in the very God whom He momentarily feared had forsaken Him.
Because Christ's eyes were unfailingly fixed on the future, He could endure all that was required of Him, suffer as no man can suffer except it be "unto death,"11 as King Benjamin said, look upon the wreckage of individual lives and the promises of ancient Israel lying in ruins around Him and still say then and now, "Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."12 How could He do this? How could He believe it? Because He knows that for the faithful, things will be made right soon enough. He is a King; He speaks for the crown; He knows what can be promised. He knows that "the Lord . . . will be a refuge for the oppressed, a refuge in times of trouble. . . . For the needy shall not alway[s] be forgotten: the expectation of the poor shall not perish for ever."13 He knows that "the Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." He knows that "the Lord redeemeth the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate."14
Forgive me for a personal conclusion, which does not represent the terrible burdens so many of you carry but it is meant to be encouraging. Thirty years ago last month, a little family set out to cross the United States to attend graduate school--no money, an old car, every earthly possession they owned packed into less than half the space of the smallest U-Haul trailer available. Bidding their apprehensive parents farewell, they drove exactly 34 miles up the highway, at which point their beleaguered car erupted.
Pulling off the freeway onto a frontage road, the young father surveyed the steam, matched it with his own, then left his trusting wife and two innocent children--the youngest just three months old--to wait in the car while he walked the three miles or so to the southern Utah metropolis of Kanarraville, population then, I suppose, 65. Some water was secured at the edge of town, and a very kind citizen offered a drive back to the stranded family. The car was attended to and slowly--very slowly--driven back to St. George for inspection--U-Haul trailer and all.
After more than two hours of checking and rechecking, no immediate problem could be detected, so once again the journey was begun. In exactly the same amount of elapsed time at exactly the same location on that highway with exactly the same pyrotechnics from under the hood, the car exploded again. It could not have been 15 feet from the earlier collapse, probably not 5 feet from it! Obviously the most precise laws of automotive physics were at work.
Now feeling more foolish than angry, the chagrined young father once more left his trusting loved ones and started the long walk for help once again. This time the man providing the water said, "Either you or that fellow who looks just like you ought to get a new radiator for that car." For the second time a kind neighbor offered a lift back to the same automobile and its anxious little occupants. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at the plight of this young family.
"How far have you come?" he said. "Thirty-four miles," I answered. "How much farther do you have to go?" "Twenty-six hundred miles," I said. "Well, you might make that trip, and your wife and those two little kiddies might make that trip, but none of you are going to make it in that car." He proved to be prophetic on all counts.
Just two weeks ago this weekend, I drove by that exact spot where the freeway turnoff leads to a frontage road, just three miles or so west of Kanarraville, Utah. That same beautiful and loyal wife, my dearest friend and greatest supporter for all these years, was curled up asleep in the seat beside me. The two children in the story, and the little brother who later joined them, have long since grown up and served missions, married perfectly, and are now raising children of their own. The automobile we were driving this time was modest but very pleasant and very safe. In fact, except for me and my lovely Pat situated so peacefully at my side, nothing of that moment two weeks ago was even remotely like the distressing circumstances of three decades earlier.
Yet in my mind's eye, for just an instant, I thought perhaps I saw on that side road an old car with a devoted young wife and two little children making the best of a bad situation there. Just ahead of them I imagined that I saw a young fellow walking toward Kanarraville, with plenty of distance still ahead of him. His shoulders seemed to be slumping a little, the weight of a young father's fear evident in his pace. In the scriptural phrase his hands did seem to "hang down."15 In that imaginary instant, I couldn't help calling out to him: "Don't give up, boy. Don't you quit. You keep walking. You keep trying. There is help and happiness ahead--a lot of it--30 years of it now, and still counting. You keep your chin up. It will be all right in the end. Trust God and believe in good things to come."
I testify that God lives, that He is our Eternal Father, that He loves each of us with a love divine. I testify that Jesus Christ is His Only Begotten Son in the flesh and, having triumphed in this world, is an heir of eternity, a joint-heir with God, and now stands on the right hand of His Father. I testify that this is Their true Church and that They sustain us in our hour of need--and always will, even if we cannot recognize that intervention. Some blessings come soon, some come late, and some don't come until heaven; but for those who embrace the gospel of Jesus Christ, they come. Of that I personally attest. I thank my Father in Heaven for His goodness past, present, and future, and I do so in the name of His Beloved Son and most generous high priest, even the Lord Jesus Christ, amen.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
The Fear of Failing
The last few weeks I was starting to believe that I could handle this whole being infertile thing. I wasn't thinking about it all of the time. I wasn't crying as much. I wasn't even angry. But, recently I've realized that instead of getting better, the hurt has manifested itself into something else. The fear of failure. I didn't recognize it until this week, but lately I've stopped trying to do even the things that come most easily to me. I wondered why. I told myself I was just too tired, or that I wasn't feeling well. But today it dawned on me that in reality I was afraid of doing all those things becasue I was sure that I'd fail. Last week I decided I wasn't going to go to my Family Processes class anymore. I figured I'd simply take and E for the semester and then retake the class in the fall when I had more time and energy. The truth is though, I didn't believe I could get an A, and I wasn't going to put in all the hard work and time, and stress myself out, if I was only going to recieve a B. To me, a B is failure. I know, I know, I'm too hard on myself. I've always been that way. I'm a true prefectionist, and it upsets me to no end when I make the slighest mistake. Besides being insanely stressful, its not healthy. But what can I do? It's who I am. And after years of not fulfilling my own unrealistic expectations for myself, I honestly feel like I'm better off not trying. The reality of my infertility only makes this worse. Am I really such a failure that I can't do the one thing I was made to do? Something that should come completely naturally? For goodness sake all I have to do is lay there!! So, needless to say, right now I'm feeling like a waste of space. I see all these people around me doing these wonderful things like writing novels and running marathons and recording CDs, and all I seem to accomplish is getting up in the morning...and even then just barely. Will I ever be able to succeed at something I want to do? Lose weight? Go places using my singing voice? Finish that novel that has been a work in progress for six years? Somehow I doubt it...
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Then God Remembered Rachel
When you are trying to have a baby and it's not happening, you want answers. If you are a spiritual person (and even if you aren't) you will eventually get around to asking God, "Yo, God! What up!? What's takin' so long?" (Okay, maybe you throw in some of the more formal "thee's and thou's". But the Lord and I are BFF's so we hang like that.)
Since my BFF is notoriously tight lipped in the absence of flaming foliage, I did what most people dealing with infertility do. I scanned the Bible for every verse on infertility, pregnancy and miraculous birth I could find in search of a clue.
The one of the first ones I found was in the book of Genesis. Chapter 30, verses 22 and 23. To give you a quick Sunday School refresher. Rachel and Leah were the two wives of Jacob. God blessed Leah with many sons but for a long time Rachel could not conceive. She was so desperate to have a child that she even offered her maid Bilhah as a surrogate. But adopting Bilhah's children as her own didn't really fill the need. She was still a woman without a child. But then something happened.
"Then God remembered Rachel..."
When I first read that verse, something shook loose inside me. I realized something that I had been feeling but couldn't put my finger on it. It's something I think all couples... but especially the women feel when they try to get pregnant but can't.
You feel forgotten.
But the thing is you don't feel forgotten by your parents who remind you how nice it would be to have a grandchild. You don't feel forgotten by family members who want to know when you two are going to have kids. You don't feel forgotten by your friends who invite you to all the baby showers and first birthday parties. You certainly don't feel forgotten by your gynecologist who reminds you (as mine did when we first started trying) "don't wait too long." And your spouse hasn't forgotten (how could he with you yelling at him to remember to pick up another box of Ovulation predictor pee sticks on his way home?)
No. You feel forgotten by GOD.
The Creator of Life has forgotten that you wanted in on the Miracle Factory. It's like He got so busy He overlooked you when He was sprinkling the Baby Dust on all your friends. You keep thinking He's going to come back your way but He never does. You watch your friends kids learn to walk and talk. Next thing you know they are enrolled in kindergarten. Heck, some of my cousin's have kids in Junior High!
And I feel... Forgotten. By. God.
So I read that verse as a promise in a way. That somehow... some way... eventually God will remember me.
Since my BFF is notoriously tight lipped in the absence of flaming foliage, I did what most people dealing with infertility do. I scanned the Bible for every verse on infertility, pregnancy and miraculous birth I could find in search of a clue.
The one of the first ones I found was in the book of Genesis. Chapter 30, verses 22 and 23. To give you a quick Sunday School refresher. Rachel and Leah were the two wives of Jacob. God blessed Leah with many sons but for a long time Rachel could not conceive. She was so desperate to have a child that she even offered her maid Bilhah as a surrogate. But adopting Bilhah's children as her own didn't really fill the need. She was still a woman without a child. But then something happened.
"Then God remembered Rachel..."
When I first read that verse, something shook loose inside me. I realized something that I had been feeling but couldn't put my finger on it. It's something I think all couples... but especially the women feel when they try to get pregnant but can't.
You feel forgotten.
But the thing is you don't feel forgotten by your parents who remind you how nice it would be to have a grandchild. You don't feel forgotten by family members who want to know when you two are going to have kids. You don't feel forgotten by your friends who invite you to all the baby showers and first birthday parties. You certainly don't feel forgotten by your gynecologist who reminds you (as mine did when we first started trying) "don't wait too long." And your spouse hasn't forgotten (how could he with you yelling at him to remember to pick up another box of Ovulation predictor pee sticks on his way home?)
No. You feel forgotten by GOD.
The Creator of Life has forgotten that you wanted in on the Miracle Factory. It's like He got so busy He overlooked you when He was sprinkling the Baby Dust on all your friends. You keep thinking He's going to come back your way but He never does. You watch your friends kids learn to walk and talk. Next thing you know they are enrolled in kindergarten. Heck, some of my cousin's have kids in Junior High!
And I feel... Forgotten. By. God.
So I read that verse as a promise in a way. That somehow... some way... eventually God will remember me.
Just Relax II
When you're "Trying To Conceive", or TTC as those in the in crowd call it, people will tell you all sorts of stories about a couple who went to the same church as their cousin's brother's mother's orthodontist who was TTC too. These people decided to take a tropical vacation somewhere and came back totally knocked up.
Or they will tell you how their babysitter's uncle's mechanic's sister started meditating for an hour and 45 minutes everyday and got pregnant the next month. Or worse they will quote THEY. "Well THEY say if you just relax you will get pregnant."
Because the person saying this is usually a friend or family member I am generally able to restrain myself from punching them in the face. But the impulse is there. If you have said these well meaning words to a TTC couple I can assure you your butt has been mentally kicked by them.
You see there are several very good reasons why saying these things will just piss me off.
1. It's anecdotal if not completely made up. I sometimes think there is actually only one couple that conceived on a vacation and everybody is referring to them through their own 6 degrees of separation. I've never met these people. How do I even know they were infertile in the first place? And if they did get pregnant, well then goody for them.
2. It's completely useless to me. I don't have time for a vacation. That's it. I work too much to meditate. Stress is an integral part of my life. It's not going anywhere. By suggesting this you've doomed me to failure. The very act of "trying to relax" becomes a stressor.
3. I actually tried it already.
4. It's not scientifically supported. There are actually studies suggesting that vacation sex, meditation and all that good stuff do absolutely nothing to improve your chances of getting pregnant.
5. I know you really don't want to talk about it anymore. When people can't do anything to help you they generally want to change the subject. Suggesting we go on vacation is how you make a last ditch effort to help and then segue into another subject.
So you see. I know you mean well. I really do appreciate it. But I've heard it before. And it doesn't help. Of course I can't tell you that because then I will only appear to be a raving stressed out hormonal woman with a biological clock the size of Big Ben. Which of course only proves your point. I really do need to relax.
Just don't tell me to relax, I might implode... or punch you in the face.
Or they will tell you how their babysitter's uncle's mechanic's sister started meditating for an hour and 45 minutes everyday and got pregnant the next month. Or worse they will quote THEY. "Well THEY say if you just relax you will get pregnant."
Because the person saying this is usually a friend or family member I am generally able to restrain myself from punching them in the face. But the impulse is there. If you have said these well meaning words to a TTC couple I can assure you your butt has been mentally kicked by them.
You see there are several very good reasons why saying these things will just piss me off.
1. It's anecdotal if not completely made up. I sometimes think there is actually only one couple that conceived on a vacation and everybody is referring to them through their own 6 degrees of separation. I've never met these people. How do I even know they were infertile in the first place? And if they did get pregnant, well then goody for them.
2. It's completely useless to me. I don't have time for a vacation. That's it. I work too much to meditate. Stress is an integral part of my life. It's not going anywhere. By suggesting this you've doomed me to failure. The very act of "trying to relax" becomes a stressor.
3. I actually tried it already.
4. It's not scientifically supported. There are actually studies suggesting that vacation sex, meditation and all that good stuff do absolutely nothing to improve your chances of getting pregnant.
5. I know you really don't want to talk about it anymore. When people can't do anything to help you they generally want to change the subject. Suggesting we go on vacation is how you make a last ditch effort to help and then segue into another subject.
So you see. I know you mean well. I really do appreciate it. But I've heard it before. And it doesn't help. Of course I can't tell you that because then I will only appear to be a raving stressed out hormonal woman with a biological clock the size of Big Ben. Which of course only proves your point. I really do need to relax.
Just don't tell me to relax, I might implode... or punch you in the face.
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