Just wanted y’all to know that I am still alive.
I just don’t really have much to say yet.
Maybe another week or so and I will feel less blue about Henry’s untimely demise.
I’m going to go back to feeling sorry for myself now.
See you next week.
I HOPE.
Henry died last night. I am not intending to make a big post about What Happened, because I don’t really feel like reliving it, so that’s really all I’m going to say about it. Unfortunately, what was a fantastic birthday had a really horrible ending, but I am thankful I can separate the two events in my memory. Anyway, some very good friends came over and helped us bury our buddy before we went to bed and then it was IM-POSS-I-BLE to fall asleep. We finally dozed off about midnight, but every hour and a half or so one of us would wake up and then of course the other would too. (Does this happen to anyone else? Wake up the moment your spouse’s eyes pop open? We’ve been doing that for about 3 years now and it totally creeps me out.)
And to make matters worse, Analie woke up an hour early again this morning. So we’ve been dragging around like zombies AND my eyes are still swollen twice their normal size so it’s super hard to see. As in, I may actually wear my glasses today.
Anyway, neither of us really felt like doing much awesome parenting this morning. Joey let me lay in bed for awhile and he got up with Analie first, and when I finally wandered out he had his favorite movie on (Bourne Ultimatum) and he and Analie were contentedly watching it. Well, she was beating the brains out of her spinning bird and he was watching the movie.
After we fed her solids, she was having so much fun beating her high chair tray that I decided to give her a bit of prunes to smear around. Because it was easy and she could play with it without much energy expended on my part. She’d been up for almost 2 hours, and by this point of the morning we usually use Henry as our entertainment because the more tired she was the more HILARIOUS she found him.
The prunes will have to suffice going forward, I guess. She liked them OK too, although she was pretty intense about it, and I’m pretty sure playing with your food is supposed to be fun.
I miss you, Henry.
Even though you smelled.
I keep expecting you to be in your chair looking lazy.
Bye, Buddy.
Joey was at a church in the area filming some B-roll for a piece he’s putting together. They arrived a little too early, so after they got all the cameras set up he found himself chatting with two women. One was an associate of his, and the other was the lady they were planning to film.
“So, do you have any kids?” She, the subject of the film, said to him, after the had exchanged the requisite pleasantries.
“No, we don’t,” poor Joey replied. And we hate that question.
“Oh that’s good,” she gushed. ”It’s SO much easier to get through seminary without any kids running around while you’re trying to study.”
“Sure,” Joey said. Whatever you say, lady.
She asked about three different kid-related questions before she came to The Kicker.
“And WHEN are you going to get around to having children?” That’s just a brazen question if you ask me.
Joey had had it up to here at this point; he had been tactfully trying to put off the children questions for the longest time. And, well, she DID ask. ”Actually, we’re infertile,” he said.
“I’m sorry, you’re in Fort Worth?” She asked, eyes wide. (NO LIE. She said that.)
“No.” Joey said slowly. ”We’re IN-FER-TILE.”
“OH!” She gasped. I can just imagine the mental gymnastics she was doing, trying to decide if she had said anything inappropriate. She probably assured themselves she was just fine. (I actually made a few blunders like this a few years ago, and I feel SO bad about them now.)
“Well, that’s OK,” she recovered quickly and said with a flick of her wrist. ”You can always adopt.”
Joey wanted to drop his camera on her foot and march out of there, but he – bless his heart – stayed and continued the conversation. One thing we hate is when people flippantly write off infertility with the “oh, no big deal, just get a child from Child Protective Services or something; Heaven knows there are thousands of them out there” attitude.
And we realize it’s not meant flippantly when it’s offered as a suggestion, but it sure feels that way when someone you don’t know just shoves it in your face like that.
I’m not sure what Joey said to her because, honestly, adoption is something we’ve tossed around. But we’re not there yet. We still want to know what Joey+Jenna looks like. We’re not ready.
A few minutes after the adoption comment, she asked Joey what he was in seminary studying. He told her he was planning to be a youth pastor, and her eyes lit up again. ”WELL! Just think of all those kids you can be parents to! That’s WONDERFUL!”
Again, Joey’s shoulders sunk a little bit. He understood what she was trying to say, but once again it was super inappropriate. It’s just not the same as actually having children, and it feels like you’re cheapening both youth ministry and the desire to have kids by equating the two.
As we were driving home and he was relating this to me, it struck me that this was the first time that Joey’s gotten the grilling. I’ve had it several times because, let’s face it, women default to the “so when are you having children” question in get-to-know-you settings. (Although, no one has asked me if I was in Fort Worth when I told them I’m infertile before. That’s a new low.) But I was sorry he had to face the questions.
It’s not his fault. So I’d just rather all the rude ladies came through me.
Maybe someday it’ll get easier.
The most awkward part, though, in these conversations where we really don’t know the person (and, frankly, taking into consideration in these circumstances that they probably don’t care too much about us) is trying to decide HOW to handle the completely inappropriate things they say regarding infertilty. Like…should I say, “um, DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW AWFUL THAT WAS?” to them? Because it would just cause them a great deal of embarrassment.
However, if I don’t say something, they’re more likely to keep saying terrible things to other infertile (did anyone else hear Fort Worth?) women.
Especially if these women are in WOMENS MINISTRY, like the one from yesterday was, and they should really know all kinds of better.
There is definitely no easy answer.
Because the last thing that sounds like a good idea is getting into an awkward situation with someone you barely know over the most painful part of your life. And all because they were just asking normal, fertile-people questions and wouldn’t quit.
BLECH.
Joey doesn’t know either. Because he never could decide what to do with this particular woman. So he held his tongue.
Finally. I think I know what I learned. (At least one thing, anyway. There had really better be more than just one thing.)
Last night, Joey and I got to talking through the past year kind of with the “what if we hadn’t” perspective.
Our list really could go on and on, and as I look at what I’ve written…it kind of looks like we’re more awesome than we really are. Truth is, we aren’t. But the what-ifs that come out of a really hard year are enough to scare me. Nothing is certain, nothing is guaranteed. We know that now more than we ever did. Rough, awful spots can sneak up on you and hit you with all the force of an 18 wheeler going 60 miles an hour…and then what.
Here’s what I know:
I never want to be unprepared again.
I’ve learned from my last year that I am not who I need to be, that I’m not ready for another year like 2009. I’m not ready for another year where I try and try and try to keep it together and put on a brave face and hope that this HAS to be over soon…right?
The only reason that Joey and I didn’t implode on each other this past year is because of our faith, of Who we believe in. I definitely couldn’t see it then.
But I don’t ever want to be the same.
And now that I can at least see one thing I’ve learned, that I don’t ever want to be the same, I don’t want to settle for status quo in the way I follow Jesus, that I don’t want to settle…I can start to change.
Because I can’t handle another year without it, no matter what happens to me in 2010.
Sing to the LORD all the earth; proclaim his salvation day after day. Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous deeds among the people – 1 Chronicles 16:23-24
I missed you on your due date. It came and it went and nobody knew how badly I just wanted to take your one ultrasound picture and curl up with you on the bed. I will always wonder if you had blue eyes like your daddy, or brown eyes like your mommy. Would you have been short like me? Or maybe you would have been born with a Rubik’s cube in your hand like your daddy?
We wanted you for so long. You were our miracle, and I don’t understand why God gave you to us just long enough to take you away again.
I will never forget you, I remember every single time I see my scar. At first I thought having such a big, obvious reminder would upset me every day, and sometimes it does. But I never have to worry about losing your memory, because I carry you with me everywhere I go…in my heart and on my stomach.
We called you Samuel because we asked the Lord for you, but he asked for you back. And we still don’t know what we were supposed to learn from you, but you can bet we’ll learn it so we can always look back on what you taught us.
I love you. We miss you.
Mommy
I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of him. So now I give him to the Lord.
For his whole life, he will be given over to the Lord.
1 Sam 1:27-28
OH MY WORD, in just a few hours 2009 is going to be O-VER! No New Years Resolutions for me this year, just a good, hot shower at midnight to wash every last vestige of 2009 away.
So, it’s weird; when I look back on the year I realize that yes, this is the worst year I can remember and it will probably be the worst one in a long time. But let’s be honest, the only other rough year I can think of (during our marriage, that is) was probably the last year when we lived in Iowa and I worked with those nasty people who hated me from the moment they snitched a peek at my resume and thought “gosh, I think this one is a Christian” based upon where I went to college (and I know this because they told me). Those two made me cry on a regular basis.
But in perspective, I’ve had a pretty easy life.
So let’s flash back to 2009, month by month. Come on, it’ll be fun. Well, it’ll be fun until May, that is.
JANUARY
I noticed that somehow the phrase “picture of a cow’s head stuck under a fence and along comes a bull” was bringing a lot of traffic to my blog. (I still can’t figure it out.) So I told Brother, and he drew this picture using Microsoft Paint and that post is now the #1 most-viewed on this blog. WEIRD. Also, we got a new shower head.
FEBRUARY
We got new glasses and, fortunately!, Joey did not choose this pair. I thought I finally saw an armadillo but it turned out to be a skunk. It was a major disappointment for me.
MARCH
The Kid came to visit us for Spring Break. We had fun. I quit watching The Office because it wasn’t funny to me anymore. We went to Branson for a five days with my parents, and after they left Joey and I had crazy adventures. As usual.
APRIL
I flew to Chicago to visit Sister and Stephen over Easter. Joey and I planted tomatoes and herbs on our balcony and were successful.
MAY
We tried to celebrate our fourth wedding anniversary, which fell on the same day we found our our baby was gone. (Re-reading these posts to link them here is killing me.) Then I had crazy surgery because there were abnormalities. Mom came to take care of me for a week, and after she left, Sister came.
JUNE
It drove me crazy to think about our baby as an “it”, so we named him Samuel. I overdid it post-surgery and had painful relapses more often than I should have because I can’t sit still. I discovered that going to church can be difficult.
JULY
For Independence Day, we jetted home to IOWA! see some fireworks. I remembered how to smile again. We went to Mexico and had the absolute best vacation ever. Being together. And let us not forget the smacking Iguana from the Tulum ruins, which was a highlight for me of course.
AUGUST
Joey had sinus surgery and he looked fully awesome afterwards. I had a birthday and I survived.
SEPTEMBER
We tried to go backpacking, but there was no water in any of the creek-beds so we had to turn back; we had a great time at Beavers Bend working Plan B. Then, Joey decided he wanted to a coffee experiment, which ended with him deciding he liked coffee.
OCTOBER
My awesome friend Michelle handed down their Grind & Brew coffee maker to us, which we named Jeeves. It’s such a handy machine that has changed our lives in so many ways. Oh, and we decided to do IVF to treat my infertility. Um, that was HUGE.
NOVEMBER
I started my first round of medicine for IVF and hated it. A few days later, we received a ginormous box of IVF injections and began the shots. Joey is awesome.
DECEMBER
We had ten healthy embryos which we transferred and then..our IVF procedure failed. Ugh.
I realize that nobody will probably click through those links to read those old posts, but it was really cathartic for me to look back on this year and remember that, YES, there were good times. We did enjoy parts of it. (A few parts.)
Happy New Year, Internet!! May it be so, so much better than 2009.
Joey and I were heading out this afternoon, it’s brisk and cool and a bit icy in spots down here in Texas right now (WEIRD!), and as I shoved my hands deeper in to the pockets of my down vest that I usually never wear, I said, “It feels like…it’s like a compound fracture. You know, the kind where you have, like, bone sticking out of your leg.”
He just raised his eyebrows at me like, OK…I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about but sure…compound fracture.
“No, I mean how I’m feeling right now.” Obviously, right?
I’m trying to put words on it. I’ve been unnaturally quiet for about the last four or five days; I just don’t want to talk about It. I don’t want to talk about any of it. I just want to push through the holidays, survive our baby’s due date, and get January over with. So I turn my cell phone off and don’t reply to emails and keep to myself.
It’s working OK.
We made it through Christmas and we managed to have a mostly enjoyable day.
My former due date is looming, though. And I feel like I could shatter at any minute, and I just have to keep it together. I’ve cried enough over the last six months, haven’t I? I’m so over it.
But back to the compound fracture business. (Yes, yes, I’m circling this plane so I can land it, y’all.)
I feel sequentially broken right now; it’s gross and disgusting and deep, sticking out of my skin and disfiguring. And the only way to get my nasty compound fracture to heal is to go through more pain to get it set. Maybe even more intense pain, but I SURE HOPE NOT, INTERNET. Once it’s set, eventually I’ll have to do physical therapy and whatever. That will hurt and stretch, but it will be healing, even though it sounds awful. And eventually, it’ll be whole again. But never the way it was, and never without a dull ache when the barometric pressure changes, to remind me of what once was.
I’m in the morphine for pain stage right now. Maybe in a few weeks I’ll be ready to try walking on it. But oh….not yet. It still hurts too much.
I haven’t sung since before we started IVF. That was primarily because we didn’t know what our schedule would be, when we’d have to be at the doctor and stuff, and I didn’t want to have to cancel all the time.
Then, once it became apparent that IVF had failed, singing was the last thing I wanted to do.
The very last.
And so I cancelled my Sunday on the music schedule.
Tomorrow, for our Christmas Eve service, I’m singing and I actually didn’t cancel.
At first it felt weird; being up there, singing about a God I don’t necessarily like very much right now. On his birthday. But after awhile, I sang through the scratchies in my throat (let’s face it, I haven’t used them vocal chords in a long time) and I started to enjoy it. I can’t say I sang every song with understanding on every song, but I sang them.
The hurt is so palpable in our house right now it feels like you have to push it aside to make enough room to sit on the couch. And it follows us wherever we go. I’m about two breaths away from crying at all times. I’ve never carried around a lump in my throat like this before, but it’s there and I can’t get rid of it. I never know what will set it off, either.
Merry Christmas?
Enough 2009.
Enough tears.
Enough hurt.
Enough infertility.
Enough everything.
Enough, already.
Sometimes, I just feel like I’m awake every day for long enough to get cage matched by a professional wrestler. Then I go to bed, sleep for a few hours, and wake up and do it all over again. I’m so weary of it all. Carrying around the weight of grief is really, really exhausting.
Joey and I were talking the other day. We were talking about The Question that people ask us a lot; the one we really hate.
“So…rough year…what do you think God is trying to teach you?”
We never know what to say. We don’t know the answer and we’re not sure we want to yet. But a couple of days ago, Joey said he thought maybe he knew what it was.
God’s trying to teach us that He is enough.
UGH. What a lesson. I don’t want to learn that. I don’t want Him to be enough, I want babies.
See? I haven’t learned it yet. That puts the fear of God in me, too, because I’m like, better hurry up and learn your lesson, Jenna, before He does something else nasty to you.
That’s called having an incorrect view of God. I know in my head that he’s not up there being the professional wrestler in the cage match I feel like I’m losing daily, but I can’t convince my heart. I’m not sure how you fix that, either.
Somehow, I have to learn to be satisfied with God.
He is enough.
We just got the phone call that my sister is in labor. Every other person in my family is glittering with excitement, and Joey and I feel like we just got sucker punched.
I don’t understand why she and I had to have the same due date in the first place. I don’t understand why we couldn’t both get to have our babies. I don’t understand. I don’t understand.
But I don’t feel like He is enough right now. I just don’t.
I wanted to have my baby.
All I can think about lately is how my body betrayed us. HELLO UTERUS, didn’t you get the memo you were supposed to IMPLANT the EMBRYOS because we spent LOTS OF MONEY on this?!
I look at my still-bruised and sore stomach and think what a waste of money those $1,000 shots were. I still have an unopened box of Menopur sitting behind my dresser, complete with needles and syringes and everything. I’m not sure what we’ll do with it.
Sometimes I just look up at the sky and think, God? Are you up there? It’s me, Jenna, the one you gave the gift of infertility to; remember me? Because lately it feels like you forgot. Anyway, remember that IVF thing we thought we were supposed to do? THE ONE THAT COST US GOOD MONEY!? Why, why, why did you let it fail? What is up with that?
Joey and I have had the goal of getting out of seminary debt free. And we were doing really, really good until about two months ago. Granted, we don’t have to bear the full cost of IVF, but we’ll have to do at least 10%. And they’re running tests on some of our embryos and heaven knows how much that will cost.
I hate being a monetary raincloud, but if we wanted to not get pregnant, we could have done that for free just like every other month. I could have skipped the shots, could have skipped the ultrasounds, could have skipped the nearly daily bloodwork and the fun of having a left arm so bruised I couldn’t even fully extend it.
Julie Powell (of Julie & Julia fame) put a Paypal button on her blog for people to donate to her cooking experiment. Maybe I should put one up to pay for our failed IVF.
Just kidding. I’m really not trying to beg for money.
I’m just mad at my body.
I’m mad that we’ll have to spend some of our rainy-day savings to pay for something that didn’t even work.
That’s when I look back up at the clear blue sky and say, GOD!! We’re getting ready to go into the MINISTRY FOR PETE’S SAKE! To serve YOU!!! And you take our savings and leave us barren yet again around Christmas and the due date of the baby we lost. Can you cut us a break?!
Maybe you read this blog and you’re not a Christian. Hi. You’re totally welcome here. See, up until about two years ago, I thought being a Christian was all nicey-nice with flowers and puppies and nativity scenes and crosses hanging behind the choir loft. So warm and fuzzy!
But it’s not.
It has taken this emotional roller coaster to make me realize that the nativity scene and the cross represent something many Christians (and people who aren’t Christians) overlook about following Jesus: suffering.
And once I throw that word out there on the Internet I immediately feel hypocritical. I’m not suffering in the sense that I’m hated and beaten and people are trying to crucify me, but I’m definitely hurting in my heart. And this kind of hurt, if you’ve never felt it, is deep and intense and I’d say it’s pretty close to suffering.
So what do I do now?
Right now, I’m just a little ticked off at God. He has hurt my feelings, and I’m OK with admitting that because it’s true. I am not the kind of Christian who is willing to sit here and tell you that being a follower of Jesus is always my favorite thing. Sometimes (like right now) I’m not really sure why I do it. Except that I know it’s true.
And for those of you who aren’t Christians, I’m sure you think I’m nuts.
But the alternative of either believing in nothing, or believing only in myself (which, let’s face it, I suck), sounds more hopeless than trusting a God who has hurt my feelings deeply.
Those of you Christians who have prayed for us over the last few months, thanks. I don’t understand why the answer was “no”, but it was and it will take us awhile to figure it out. But I have never felt more supported by fellow Christians, and I’ve never really understood how amazing the church is until now.
And those of you who aren’t Christians and you still prayed? Thank you; I know that was probably weird for you. You are amazing and all I can say is that the God to whom you prayed did hear you, and he did answer…but the answer wasn’t what we all wanted.
I wish God was a genie in a bottle and I could have three wishes.
But that kind of god wouldn’t be as powerful as my God is, even though sometimes I don’t like his plan.
And that’s where I am three days later. I’m about 3/4 angry, and 1/4 numb. I don’t really want to talk about it, or think about it, or remember that it happened.
Maybe this is called denial.
But here I am.
For now.
