Thursday, October 18, 2012


There's no point in trying to deny it; that's pretty much how I am functioning.

Still, though...I'm struggling.

I can't even pretend that I'm not.  I mean, I can...and sometimes I am just because life has its expectations, and that's what one does.

But I'm struggling.  Struggling to smile.  Struggling not to cry.  Struggling to keep my head above water.  Struggling to sleep.  Struggling to stay awake.  Struggling to eat.  Struggling not to throw up.  Struggling to stop struggling because MY HEAD KNOWS I AM SO LUCKY.  I AM SO BLESSED.

My heart, though?  My heart hurts.  I feel like it's just drowning in wistfulness every time I turn my head.

My mind races...making connections with everything and everyone and I hate it.  Lady in front of me at Target?  A baby about Luke's age and a big brother about Matthew's...and very visibly pregnant.

My heart screams, "It's a boy and that should be YOU!"

New babies and new pregnancies are all around me.  I am thrilled beyond thrilled for all of them.

My heart screams, "NEVER AGAIN YOU.  NO MORE FOR YOU."

We told Shady Grove that we felt like it was time to withdraw from the Shared Risk program.  I was hoping Dr. K would say something like, "Well, Lori, I certainly understand if you feel it's time.  You've been through so much.  If you should decided to keep trying, though, I still feel like we'd have success and this is what I'd do..."

Instead, I heard, "Well, the plus to the Shared Risk program is the more chances you have, the more chance you will get pregnant." (Not interested in the 'Even the Blind Squirrel Gets a Nut Theory'...Maybe our nuts were in January.)  I also heard, "Well, I think we've tweaked the medicine about as much as we can.  We'd probably just hope for better response."

Hope.  That's a fickle word.

The biggest thing I heard that makes me pretty much realize we are done with trying to have more children is Dr. K mentioning he felt I'd have much greater success with egg donation.

Don't get me wrong...blood does not make a bit of difference to me.  Before Luke, I contemplated egg donation and wouldn't blink an eye if that's what we had to do in order to raise a child.

But we don't.  We have Luke.  And while I feel like the desire to raise more children has been laid on my heart since I realized that girls can grow up to be Mommies....I begged and begged and BEGGED God to just let me have Luke.

I plead with Him for 34 weeks and one day to just let me bring that baby home and to love him and raise him...and if He did, I'd never, ever, EVER ask for another thing.

So to ask again...and to go to those lengths—more time, more trauma for my body, WAY more money in medicine and more interruption in our family—only to have either failure, or God forbid, success and then MORE loss?

I just don't know.

Well, I do know.  I have to accept this place.  This person.  This life.

I feel horrible.  There are so many horrible and terrible things going on in this world.  So much pain and suffering and loss.

My days are filled with the love and giggles of the most amazing little boy in the world...planning fall activities and trips to Disney World and things to do when Daddy deploys...

I am so blessed beyond belief, and I am ashamed of just how hard it is for me right now.  I have more than many people dream of in their wildest dreams.

And still...I'm struggling with want and heartache.  I'm struggling with grief for the losses I've had and the realization that every time I rock Luke to sleep, it may be the last night he lets me...he's growing up so fast.  My heart hurts so much missing days that haven't even happened yet.

Ridiculous.  I know all of this is ridiculous and I just have to get through this.  I've had a lot going on in the last few weeks...months...year....three years...and more to come with Daddy deploying and the acceptance of different stages of our lives.  Hormones are still equalizing.  And honestly, I NEVER struggle to smile or be genuinely happy with that precious boy of mine, and I am just grateful that I have him with me all the time.  What a blessing just to be able to stay home with him and not miss anything I don't have to.

Please pray for a sweet friend who delivered her sweet little girl last week and her precious little boy today...and mourns them both as they have both died and gone to Heaven.

Please pray for the children in Kyrgyzstan who will remain there and not with their families because of political turmoil.  To know my child was alive...but without me...would tear my heart out.

Please pray for my sister.  Her lupus is really bad.

Please pray for sweet friends who have lost babies in the last months, and are having enduring complications.  Insult to injury.

Perspective.  Perspective.  Perspective.  Pray for my perspective to come back.

I may be struggling, but it could be so much worse.


  1. Each post you write like this just hits's like I wrote the words. They are so true....

  2. Praying for peace. Oh how I wish I could help you in some way. My heart aches for you. You are a wonderful mommy. I wish there was a way for you to have more babies.

  3. Sweetheart, take a moment, just a moment and forget about the rest of the world and concentrate on YOU. Stop struggling and cry if you have to, scream and shout if you need to and just. let. go. Just for a moment. I promise you that the world and all it's pain and injustice will be right here when you get back.

    Your perspective will return when it's good and ready, please be kind to yourself in the meantime.

    Wishing you peace, light and love.


  4. Oh Lori. I can relate (to some degree) because it is sinking in with me that we will likely not ever be in a place financially to do IVF again, and it tugs my heart as it does yours when I see little girls Peyton's age, or hear friends decide to start trying again when for us it would take years of planning and saving to "try" again. I guess what I am saying is that I understand to some degree and I am here for you and with you at every twist and turn. Don't feel wrong for any sadness this puts on you though.Yes there is no short of grief in the world. Yes you are blessed beyond measure by your amazing boy. Yes yes yes. But you are human, and these are your feelings, and you are entitled to them. Deciding to "stop" trying anymore is a hard decision for anyone on a good day, but with all you have been through, so many losses, it is even harder. Praying for you my friend.

  5. Someone always has it worse. Don't downplay your own feelings because of other people's hardships. To come to terms with our circumstances you have to wade through the grief - face it head on. Not deflect it with all of the horrible things in the world. Of course other people are living in terrible conditions - but you have been through a lot. PERIOD.

    This is very raw still. I know you, and I know you will come to grips with everything and focus on the next chapter when you are ready. Luke is super lucky to have you and John and I know without a shadow of a doubt that you will wring every last drop of happiness out of parenting him.


  6. Prayers for you and everyone else you mentioned.

  7. I am so sorry for all that you are experiencing. I think what you are feeling is very natural. I can relate to how you are feeling - after our cycle failed this past week, it really hit home that we may not be able to add to our family when I should be welcoming my son into this world in less than a month. You are amazing to be thinking of so many others during your difficult times. Thinking of you and sending many hugs!!!!

  8. It's ok to struggle.

    I think one of the hardest things with stopping treatments is that it brings its own grief, but it also revives the grief of all the babies we've lost. Infertility is a hard row to hoe and it's made often unbearable by the babies that leave us too soon.

    It takes time, and I know that you feel you should feel fine because you aren't as bad off as other people in the world, but that is normal, too. When I was grieving my babies I used to think that I was an awful person because I could have been raped and had my children and husband murdered in front of me like in Sudan (the worst fate I can imagine, and it does happen). My babies were safe and I know where they are and they aren't suffering any more, etc, and yet I couldn't stop crying, I couldn't stop the grief, the ache, the hurt, the pain. And it just made me feel so guilty on top of everything else.

    Please, give yourself permission to grieve, to feel the emotions that your heart feels. God is not upset by that. In fact, he is grieving with you. You are not grieving without hope. And that is the difference. Even if you are angry at God, that is ok and he can take it. The fact that you are turning to him during this time is what matters.

    I am so sorry you have to go down this path, that you've had to endure the things that you have had to. I still grieve hard and long and it's been more than two years since my last loss and we stopped treatments. It takes time and there is a part of us that will never be healed this side of heaven. We just have to lean on Christ for the strength to walk the path we've been asked to walk. One day he will wipe away the last tear and there will be no more. We will be united with him and our wee ones that he called home before us.

    Until that day, it's ok to hurt. This world is not our home. And that pain can remind us of where our hearts truly should lie.