Two lines

**this is a story about real life in which I quote my farmer/sailor hubby...those with tender ears are warned**

Remember THIS post?  Ya.  I do too.  I was crying mad, angry tears when I wrote it.  When I bought that test there were two in the box, and as I packed for our trip I had the thought to tuck the spare into my suitcase next to my giant box of Tampax.  So I did.  

Miles and I arrive in Chicago and I am EXHAUSTED, I chalked it up to dealing with JetLag with a two year old.  My boobs still hurt, which I chalked up to the impending uterus tantrum.  I have a sour stomach, which I chalked up to eating a bunch of junk.   Chicago comes and goes and still no uterus tantrum.  I almost don't even notice.  Although there are little things here and there that make me count cycle days and wonder.    

We get to Utah and more of the same.  The ladies are giant and sore...which I'm sure someone will notice.  But then I remind myself that the last time I saw any of these people I was 50lbs heavier.  I am still exhausted and dealing with waves of nausea.  I do start to suspect something may be up...especially when I get teary over dumb things.  Like the cute old man who helped me with my suitcase.  Or a commercial on TV.   Oh - and the peeing.  HOLY MOSES.  I have always prided myself on my two-liter bladder.  I could go out shopping all day, drink tons of water, eat lunch and not have to pee until we got back home that night.  Now all of a sudden I have to pee like 3-4 times during the night.  I think it could be because of my screwed up body clock...but I dunno.  

I act normal, don't hint at anything.  In fact, I had several adoption conversations with several people.  Lamenting about how I had no idea how we'd ever be able to afford another adoption.  "We can adopt another kid or we can send the one we have to college" I told my mom.  I ran two 5K's while I was there...and I was slower and couldn't run as far as I was used to running.  But chalked it up to a 3500ft change in elevation.  I also was surprised I wasn't gaining weight like a diabetic at Baskin Robbins considering all the junk I was eating (ok...it wasn't junk...but I was eating bread and ice cream and a lot of stuff I hadn't had for a year and a half).  I just thought my metabolism had changed. 

Every symptom had an excuse.  Almost.  

On the evening of the 4th of July we got together with my family for fireworks on my grandparents' front lawn.  The fireworks STUNK.  Bad.  I never remember having such an aversion to the smell of them before...I actually kinda liked the sulfury smokey smell.  Not that night.  

I decided I would wake up the next morning and test.  I stumbled out of bed for my 4am pee and sleep-drunkenly rummaged through my suitcase to find the hidden test.  I slunk to the bathroom and did my business...and watched.  Immediately the first line filled in - didn't think anything of it - it was the test line, right?  Or so I thought.  Then the second line.   Then I realized that first DARK line wasn't the test line.  I stared at the test like an idiot.  "Holy Shit" was all I could say.  I crammed it back into the package, snuck back to my room and lay on the bed.  I pulled it out and looked at it again.  Still two lines.  I immediately started composing a Vox to Nathan.  Then stopped and deleted it.  I couldn't tell him.  There was a part of me that was SO SURE it was a mistake or it wouldn't stick anyway.  So I kept it a secret...for almost a week.   

I went to Bear Lake the next day with my family.  I was so nauseous.  I almost threw up changing Miles' blow-out diaper on the beach.  My family laughed at me and thought it was hilarious.  I thought for sure someone would suspect.  But no one did.  

Nathan flew in the following week and I still had no signs this was ending.  So I got a box to put the test in and a Big Brother shirt for Miles.  When I picked up Nathan from the airport it took ALL my willpower to not blurt it out.  We made it back to our hotel, I handed him the box.  He opened it, was quiet for a second and then said "Are you shittin' me?  Is this real?  Are you...pregnant?!"  His eyes were misty and he was in shock.   We decided then that we wouldn't let the cat out of the bag until we had been to the doctor at home and made sure everything was ok.  The next week was TOUGH.  We saw ALL of my family, and ALL of Nathan's family.  And I was SO sick...and exhausted.  But we held it in...which is pretty amazing.  

We hugged our families good bye, flew home, and the following morning went to the hospital for a pregnancy test.  When the nurse called me back and said "Well, the pregnancy test result was positive" I almost fainted.  It was real.  It wasn't a delusion.  We met with the nurse two days later for lots of questions on health and family history as well as lots of blood work.  

Tuesday July 23rd we had an appointment with OB to date the pregnancy (since I haven't been regular in 8-9 years).  We got to see the little, grainy flicker of the heartbeat and I cried tears of unbelief and joy.  Baby was measuring small they said.  ::worry::   Come back next week.  That was the LONGEST week ever.  I hibernated from friends because I was sure one of them would notice my giant boobs and my sudden aversion to chocolate.  Thursday the 1st of August we went back...baby is still small, but on track for where it was the week before.  So my due date was changed and I was told everything looked perfect.  As an aside...even my A1C looked good.  I used to be pre-diabetic and after a year on Isagenix my A1C is right smack dab back in the normal range!  

We decided then was as good a time as any so we announced it to friends and extended family via Facebook & Instagram.   We were BLOWN AWAY with the love and support we received.  We are very humbled to see how many people love, care, and pray for us. 

It still feels surreal.   My mouth has a hard time forming the words "I'm pregnant".  It's a blessing we are very grateful to have, but still can't believe we are getting to experience.

We believe in miracles

More of the story to come.  Lots, lots more to come.

Musings of the baby kind

The day before yesterday at the store I stood in that row and stared at the brightly colored boxes before me.  You know the row...THAT row.  The one where you stand in front of hope or pain: first Response or Tampax.  I didn't expect to be standing there...looking over the aisle of broken dreams.  I got tremendously nauseous last week and then this week it felt like my boobs were trying to recreate the blow-up blueberry scene from Willy Wonka.  I chalked it up to impending uterus tantruming and ignored it.  But the nausea got worse, and the boobs were so painful I couldn't wear a bra.  Of course there was the part of my brain that wondered if said uterus had in fact been occupied by a squatter...after seven years of trying to have a baby there are some things your brain becomes hard wired to do.  But I put it off.  Until the day before yesterday.  As I stared at the box that had caused me SO MUCH HEARTACHE over the years I almost found it comical that I once again needed it for an answer.  We haven't thought about trying to occupy the uterus for years.   So I grabbed it and a box of Tampax too...just to be prepared.   The plan was to test this morning.  I remembered from all those years ago that the first of the morning had the highest levels of the hormone you need to get a positive.  As Nathan and I lay in bed last night we mused over all the what-if's.  I wondered if my half-marathon in October would have to be post-poned...we both wondered how long we'd be able to keep the secret.  The last slice of my dream I remember from last night was me taking the test and seeing two lines...and being so elated.  I woke up, snuggled my little Miles for a minute, delaying the test...not wanting to disrupt our morning rhythm.  As my beautiful little boy watched Elmo, I snuck off to the bathroom to get some answers.  And then I saw it.  One line.  

And just like that I remembered all those tearful nights and frustrated years.  And I cursed that little box for giving me a glimmer of hope...a hope I wasn't even hoping for until I bought that stupid box.   

Today's Scores:
Infertility: 1
Holly: 0

Infertility Awareness Week

This is National Infertility Awareness Week (click on the pic above for more info, events, etc).  

Infertility is something that is very close to my heart.  It is a horrific thing that we have suffered through for many, many years.  While I am SO VERY GRATEFUL for my dear sweet Miles; there are still days where the sting of being infertile comes up and bites me in the butt.  It will prick the most tender underbelly of my heart and make me wonder about the future.  Wonder and hope and mourn.  

I think a lot about something a LOT of people told us when we got Miles.  "Just wait, now you'll get pregnant".  First - DO. NOT. EVER. day that to someone who is adopting.  If you want to think it that's fine...and if you know a cousin/aunt/hairdresser/friend/whoever that it happened to...that's awesome.  But keep that information to yourself.  It is hurtful.  It belittles the adoption process to be no more than a fertility treatment to get "real" kids.  Also - please never say "real kids" or "one of your own" to someone who has adopted.  Miles IS a real kid...and he IS my own.  I know what you MEAN...but listen to it again and let your heart hear how hurtful it will sound to tender young ears who will just hear that they are NOT their mother's REAL OWN child.  Ouch.

Anyway - I've been thinking of this thing you should never say, that has been said to us, and I laugh.  Here I sit with an almost 2 year old who was adopted.  Since that adoption we have done nothing to prevent getting pregnant.  And my womb is still empty...and I suspect it will remain in that state for the remainder of my days.  And while I have come to an acceptance of the reality that I will never bear biological children...that doesn't take away the heartache of knowing {I} cannot give Miles a sibling.  We can plan and prepare and hope and take all the necessary steps to adopt another child but we may never be chosen by a birthmother.  That is a reality that could very well be our own. 

So during this week I would ask you, my dear blog readers, to take the effort to reach out to an infertile friend and just ask "How are you?  I love you.  I'm here for you if you need me."  Don't let your fear of hurting them ruin a friendship.  They need you.  They need love.  It's a hard enough journey as it is, and feeling abandoned just makes it that much harder. 

.six.

Today marks

six years

since our first baby was due. 

That pregnancy was

{SO} wanted

and {MUCH} prayed for...

but today as I

sat on the floor

playing cars with Miles

I felt {grateful}

for the times God says

"not yet"

Thoughts of the baby nature

I have no idea where this string of thoughts came from...but it's been occupying my mind for a while and it seems the only way to give my mind some solace is to get it on paper.  What follows is a cocktail of my religious beliefs, my personal beliefs, and the emotional thoughts of an infertile person contemplating life.  The Gospel according to Holly as it were.  

I wonder what Miles felt as he, waiting to come to earth,  watched his future mother and father excitedly prepare for twins that he knew he was not part of.  I wonder if he cried quiet tears for us, knowing the heartache that waited at the other end of the plane ride to Georgia.  I wonder in those quiet, tear-filled moments in the dark of night, when I felt all hope was lost; if he tried whispering in my ears "don't give up Mommy".  I wonder how many times he wanted to come NOW...not wait, because he could see the pain we were feeling.  It must have been hard for my stubborn little guy as he was told: it's not time, you have to wait.  I imagine the excitement he felt as the day of his birth inched closer.  I wonder if in those last few days he stayed close to us, imagining what it would be like to finally be in our physical presence.   The night we first held him, there were no tears.  Only peace.  Like the peace of three hearts who had waited so long to meet, and were finally at rest now that they were beating so close together.  Those first few days as we would stare into each others' eyes I sensed a deep bond that stretched eternities...rather than merely days.

I also wonder a lot about the three babies we lost in miscarriage.  Were those Miles' attempts to join our family years ago that were thwarted by my faulty reproductive system?  Or are there three children waiting for us on the other side, patiently awaiting their turn to be held by mommy?

Then, naturally, my thought string falls to the twins, the Florida baby girl, the Ohio baby boy, and the Georgia baby girl...all of whom watched as we anxiously awaited their arrival.  I believe they knew we would not be their parents; that the plan we so desperately were counting on, would change.  I wonder what they thought...and I wonder if Miles knew them.  

I also wonder if there are any more children waiting to join our family.  I don't currently feel any sort of pressure, like I did before we got Miles, to work our way down the adoption path...or fertility path for that matter.  I feel content as our family of three.  I wonder if there is another child sitting and watching, patiently hoping for the time that I'll feel that "there's someone missing" feeling. 

National Infertility Awareness Week

So it's National Infertility Awareness Week.  I've been mulling over in my mind what kind of post to write to help spread the theme for this year.  As you can see from the pretty little graphic above, the "theme" for this year...or I guess you'd call it message.  Ya, let's go with message...is 'don't IGNORE infertility.' For a while I thought about talking to women who are struggling to get pregnant...to not ignore the signs and get to a doctor quicker.  But that didn't seem right.  And then I knew just what to do, which angle to use.  

Don't

ignore

your

infertile

friends.

I don't know what it's like to be a fertile woman...one who gets pregnant "folding her hubby's underwear".  I don't know what it would feel like to have great news to share with someone that you KNOW will be hurt by your news.  I don't know what that's like...but I do know what it's like to lose friends over infertility.  I've had more than one friend decide the uncomfortable "we're pregnant...again" talk was so bad they'd rather throw away a friendship and just ignore me.  I understand the logic...sort of.  You don't want to hurt someone you love so you hold off on telling them something that will hurt them.  But can I tell you something?  They'll find out eventually.  And when they do it will hurt worse that they heard from someone else, or via a Facebook status update, or a tweet, or a mass email.  So put on your grown-up panties, suck it up and have the hard discussion.  You can send a personal note, an email, make a phone call, or tell them in person.  You know her better than I do...and everyone is different.  I preferred to hear in a personal email, or a quick phone call; then I could cry in the privacy of my home.  There will be tears.  There are always tears.  If you don't see them, she's good...but she'll cry them later.  Not tears of anger towards you, but tears of sadness and unfairness and frustration.  But I promise you she will LOVE you and cherish your friendship more because she will know you took the effort to be mindful of her feelings. 

If you have a friend or sister or sister-in-law or cousin who is close to you...and she is struggling with infertility and you LOVE her and value the love and friendship you share... Don't ignore her infertility.  Don't ignore her.  Don't ignore your friendship. 

If you want to read some of my infertility history..go HERE.

Unanswered prayers

You ever heard that song?  It's an oldie sung by Garth Brooks.  He sings about how he & his wife went to a hometown football game.  While they were there they ran into his old girlfriend and he remembers how he used to pray every night that "God would make her mine".   But as she walked away he looked at his wife and "then and there thanked the good Lord, for the gifts" in his life.  He then says that one of God's greatest gifts are unanswered prayers. 

A year ago this week we had to endure the heartbreak of two failed adoptions.  A year ago we sat in the Savannah Airport as our hearts ached with the loss of a baby who had almost been ours...the second baby we'd lost that week.  A year ago I was sitting on a plane, from Salt Lake to Nashville and then Nashville to Charlotte and then Charlotte to Savannah...praying with all my might that this adoption would work out and we'd finally be parents.  A year ago we got off the plane and learned that we would be going home empty handed and our hearts broke into a million little pieces and spilled all over the concourse of the airport terminal.  

It wasn't the first time prayers of that kind had been left unanswered.  Fertility treatments for four years had always been accompanied by heartfelt prayers.  The first positive pregnancy test I looked at was followed by tearful pleading that everything would be ok.  The twin adoption situation was filled with long chats with the man upstairs.  And all of those prayers went unanswered.  Pregnancies were lost and adoptions fell apart.

Now, a year later, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for those unanswered prayers.  Yesterday I stood in the pouring rain and watched Nathan gently guide or sweet little boy across a field sprinkled with Easter candy.  I was grateful for the rain, it masked my tears.  Although they were happy tears I didn't want to have to explain to someone why the sight of this rain drenched crowd picking through soaked candy scattered in the grass had reduced me to tears.  If my body hadn't rejected those pregnancies or if any one of our four failed adoptions had gone through I wouldn't have been standing in the rain, on a Navy base in Italy, watching my husband play daddy for our baby boy's first Easter.  We wouldn't have our precious little Miles and I KNOW he is the baby that was meant for our family.  

 

I believe everything happens for a reason...sometimes good things fall apart so better things can come together.
~Marilyn Monroe

To my dear friends who are currently dealing with unanswered prayers.  I love you.  I'm sorry your hearts ache.  I remember all too well those helpless, heavy feelings...the long prayer filled nights with tear stained pillows.  My heart aches with you.  I truly hope that you will soon have the desires of your heart granted to you, but in the meantime take heart...just because God doesn't answer a prayer doesn't mean he doesn't hear it and doesn't mean he doesn't love you.  Keep up hope...although your good things are falling apart keep an eye on the horizon for your better things.      

Australia

I have posted this before...but I LOVE it so much.  I think it gives someone not directly involved with adoption an idea of what it's like in our world.  

 

(This was originally posted on April 20, 2010

& again on November 9, 2010)

Different Trips to the Same Place

By Diane Armitage printed in the April 21, 1995 "Dear Abby" column.

Deciding to have a baby is like planning a trip to Australia. You've heard it's a wonderful place, you've read many guidebooks and feel certain you're ready to go. Everyone you know has traveled there by plane. They say it can be a turbulent flight with occasional rough landings, but you can look forward to being pampered on the trip.

So you go to the airport and ask the ticket agent for a ticket to Australia. All around you, excited people are boarding planes for Australia. It seems there is no seat for you; you'll have to wait for the next flight. Impatient, but anticipating a wonderful trip, you wait--and wait--and wait.

Flights to Australia continue to come and go. People say silly things like, "Relax. You'll get on a flight soon." Other people actually get on a plane and then cancel their trip, to which you cry, "It's not fair!"

After a long time the ticket agent tells you, "I'm sorry, we're not going to be able to get you on a plane to Australia. Perhaps you should think about going by boat."

"By BOAT!" you say. "Going by boat will take a very long time and it costs a great deal of money. I really had my heart set on going by plane." So you go home and think about not going to Australia at all. You wonder if Australia will be as beautiful if you approach it by sea rather than air. But you have long dreamed of this wonderful place, and finally you decide to travel by boat.

It is a long trip, many months over many rough seas. No one pampers you. You wonder if you will ever see Australia. Meanwhile, your friends have flown back and forth to Australia two or three more times, marveling about each trip.

Then one glorious day, the boat docks in Australia. It is more exquisite than you ever imagined, and the beauty is magnified by your long days at sea. You have made many wonderful friends during your voyage, and you find yourself comparing stories with other who also traveled by sea rather then by air.

People continue to fly to Australia as often as they like, but you are about to travel only once, perhaps twice. Some say things like, "Oh, be glad you didn't fly. My flight was horrible; traveling by sea is so easy."

You will always wonder what it would have been like to fly to Australia. Still, you know God blessed you with a special appreciation of Australia, and the beauty of Australia is not in the way you get there, but in the place itself.

Five

We've done this before.  Four times to be exact.  (first, second, third, fourth)  And last year it wasn't as bad as it could have been.  This year, our arms had a sweet baby boy to snuggle when they felt heavy and empty.  This year, the hope of {finally} being a mother has been realized.   

I think this day will always be tender...but I hope that as the years roll on the pain continues to lessen.  I hope I never forget though...I NEVER want to take being a mother for granted.  I want to always remember the struggles we had to go through to get where we are. 

Here's to healing!

Pain and loss and healing

Something I get asked quite often is if having Miles takes away the pain of infertility, miscarriages, false starts and failed adoptions.  The short answer?  No.  The longer answer?  It makes all the pain WORTH it...but is sure doesn't take it away.  

We were in Utah on August 22nd.  I didn't make a big deal about it, in fact I don't think I even mentioned it to anyone...but my heart knew what day it was.  And although that isn't the day the twins ended up being born (at least we don't think it was) that was the day we had looked forward to for months.  As that day inched closer our excitement grew and when everything fell apart the crushing blow left us teetering on the edge of an emotional crevice so deep it was frightening. 

I remember all our losses...all our close calls...all our heartache.  I think I always will.  Time numbs the pain of them all...but every now and again something during day-to-day life will snag and it's like the loss just happened yesterday.  The pain surfaces and there is little I can do to stop it.  

I love Miles...and I LOVE being a mother.  Experiencing this pain and heartache does not make me less of a mother/person...it makes me more.  I appreciate every. second. I have with this tiny little miracle.  And on days when the pain of loss creeps in, surprises me and leaves an ache deep in my chest, I hold my Miracle Miles a little closer, kiss him a little more and feel deep reverence and humility that I have him to help heal the parts that ache.  

I think many people expect the very act of adopting a child to be a cure for infertility - physically and emotionally...if I have one more person tell me "watch, now you'll get pregnant because you've adopted" I will snap.  So when adoptive mothers express sadness over their losses or they struggle to grieve the fact that they will never carry life inside them...people think "well that's not quite right".  Just because we've finally gotten our miracle doesn't make us forget the struggles we went through to get him. 

To the not-mothers

This post is for all those out there who are not mothers. 

The world will tell you that it's selfish to feel sad on Mother's Day.  They tell you that you should celebrate your own mother and not think of yourself.  I am here to tell you that it is ok to be sad on Mother's Day, especially if your empty arms ache for children yet to come, or for children that you no longer have.  The world will tell you that it's an insult to your mother to be sad this day.  I am here to tell you that my sadness for today has NOTHING to do with my love for my mother.   I {love} my mother.  I love my grandmothers, my aunts and my pseudo-mothers, my sister-in-laws and my friends who are mothers.  I will always treasure the wonderful example that the women in my life set for me.  I celebrate them and love them...but that love doesn't heal the painful longing I have to be counted among them. 

One year ago I quietly celebrated that I was an expectant mother...through adoption.  I rejoiced in the thought of never having to suffer through another not-a-Mother's Day.  So on this, my 7th Not-a-Mother's Day my earnest prayer and hope is that there won't be an 8th. 

NIAW

April 24-30 was National Infertility Awareness Week which is sponsored by RESOLVE: the National Infertility Association.

Over the last week I tried working up several different posts...but could never quite get one right.  I attempted a post to debunk myths and another post just to share my feelings...but no matter what I tried, it left me feeling empty and sad.  It's been a hard week...especially with what's happened the last month...especially with Mother's Day bearing down upon me.  This week I wasn't strong enough to fight infertility battles, so I let others do it. 

But I feel like I could pass on something that I know helps us.  Here it is, my one piece of advice if you have someone in your life struggling with infertility:

Love them.  

Don't try to fix their problems, don't offer advice, don't preach to them, don't abandon them for fear of hurting their feelings...just love them.

(If you want to read some pretty fantastic posts, click on the links above or click here)

Stunned

I went online today to check out reviews of an adoption agency that we are thinking of using.  One of the comments on the review site dropped my jaw to the floor.  It was directed to a woman who had recently adopted, so while it wasn't said specifically to me the sting I felt was though it had been.  I can't believe that there are people out there who honestly feel this way about women who cannot get pregnant. 

If it is too small to read, click on it and it will get bigger. 

Dear Uterus:

We have had our disagreements in the past.  Truth be told, we don't actually get along all that well...kind of like Democrats and Republicans.  I blame it on your incessant need to tantrum every month or so despite the fact that you won't live up to your purpose and do your part (along with your hyperactive ovary cousins) to help me be a carrier of life.  And while I've come to accept that you'll never function properly, I will not stand for this abuse.  Spending days wasted on hard core pain killers might sound like fun to Charlie Sheen...but the druggy haze makes it hard for me to walk in heels.    Knock it off or so help me you and your ugly cousins will find yourselves at the bottom of a hazardous waste bin faster than Ryan Seacrest goes through a bottle of hair gel.

The end.

Givens

The necklace I wear everyday

A couple months ago I was in the lobby after church and one of the missionaries came up to say hi.  He noticed the necklace I was wearing and asked me "What is your hope?"  I replied that my biggest hope was to be a mother.  "That's not a hope" he said, "that's a given."  I didn't want to get into it with anyone in the lobby at church so I let it slide.  I've thought about it a few times since then, but this week it has been a constant thought. 

Nothing in life is a given.  It isn't a given that you'll graduate college just because you start or that you'll get married just because you date or that you'll be able to have kids just because you're a woman.  Just as if you do graduate it isn't a given that you'll find a job, or if you get married that you'll stay married, or if you have kids that they'll be healthy. 

The last week has been really rough emotionally.  The holidays are always hard (infertility-wise) but I'm not sure why this year has hit me so hard.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I thought there would be four stockings hanging from our mantle this year...instead of two.  Maybe it's because I know I won't be seeing any family.  Maybe it's because of my looming big birthday and my life is not anywhere near where I thought it would be when I hit 30.  Maybe it's because I know it won't seem like much of a holiday because of our move.  All I know is that I have been reduced to tears more times this week than I can count on both hands.  I know that there is a plan out there for us and that someday I'll understand why it was necessary for us to go through all of this. 

I {hope} that our future involves children, but as of late I've had to deal with a growing fear that it may not.  I'm not sure I would know what to do with myself.  The last six and a half years of our lives have been focused on having a family...it is what I know, what I long for, what I live for.  But, it isn't a given and I pray that if it isn't in the cards for us that my heart will be strong enough to accept that.

Anxious curiosity

The 17th is getting close again...I wonder if this will be the year.  I hope so.

Confused??  READ THIS.

Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness

October 15th is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.  If you have kiddos, hug them extra tight today and take a moment to remember all those mommies who have empty arms and babies who left this life too soon.

Better than expected

Today could have been a really bad day.  I dread this day every year,  and each year it comes and goes and over the four years that we've had to deal with this date some have been easier than others.  Last night was the Navy Ball and it put me in a good mood to deal with today.  Then today Nathan and I slept in (we were a wee bit tucked out from last night - we stayed up way past our bedtime), picked up our newly fixed Helga, went to lunch (sushi...yummy), took a nap... and it definitely didn't hurt that the weather today was PERFECT (I love Chicago in the fall).
Each year as the last few hours of October 9th pass away my heart aches knowing what could have been.  Then I think about next year, and hope that by the next time we have to face this painful anniversary we might be lucky enough to have a child to hold in our arms.  This year proves to be no different.  As I sit and type the deepest desire of my heart is that I can someday be a mother.  But I am also filled with extreme gratitude that today wasn't as emotionally devastating as it could have been.

August

The last couple days the weather here in the Chi has been PERFECT.  We slept with the windows open last night and a couple times during the night I was tempted to get up and throw a second quilt on the bed.  I love chilly nights.  Today the windows have stayed open and the breeze blowing the city sounds through the house has been so calming.  (Have I mentioned that I love Chicago??)

I'm grateful for the change...in weather and in months.  August (and the last couple days of July) can suck it.  It was wicked, miserable, suffocatingly hot.  Work was less than pleasant.  Losing two babies was no picnic.  Feeling like our hearts were lied to, ripped out, torn into bits and peed on and then burned sucked pretty bad. Winston was cranky, Besta was a menace.

August marked the six year point of us trying to add children to our family.  Six. Freaking. Years.  It is so amazingly frustrating to want something for six years.  Do everything in your power to get it.  Dream, think, pray, stress, cry, rejoice, ache over it...and STILL, after six LONG years...still NOT have it.  I am seriously considering changing my middle name to patience. 

I'm glad that milestone is passed...and I don't have to deal with it again for another year.

Bring on September!  May it be fabulous!