Hello...

Hello world. Does anyone read this thing anymore? I just read a blog about another infertile couple's tender mercies and while I dried my tears I was reminded of how many little mercies I have taken for granted lately. For example, I couldn't go to my family reunion. I couldn't handle babies, pregnant women, all the grandparents snuggling their grand babies while watching my own mom so painfully aware that she might never have that joy. I couldn't deal with the looks of pity. Or heaven forbid the one person in the family who was either A. Unaware that we had been pregnant or B. Unaware that we had lost said pregnancy. It just wasn't something I could mentally or emotionally handle. The morning my mom was headed up I was at her house to help her load the car. My mom kept saying "I couldn't have done this without you." I'd felt pretty worthless for a few weeks, after being off work and having a hard time coping with losing the baby and our doctor in three weeks. (More on the dr later.) A phone call came from a friend who had thrown her back out and needed someone to come help her. I got to go over and spend the afternoon taking cases of her adorable baby boy and building forts with her toddler. I know she probably hated needing someone to help, but I know she had no idea how much I needed to feel needed. Plus I was snuggled by her sweet angel of a baby for HOURS. It was like a little bit of my heart got pieced back together. I didn't feel useless. I didn't feel empty. At one point, still unable to move she cried, feeling totally helpless, and asked "it has to get better right? I mean, I've never felt so out of control or this unable to just power through and make my body work. " I told her of course it would, once you hit rock bottom the only way to go is up right? And, I told her, you're about as down as you can get. We laughed and after a few days she was well on the way to being mended. That phrase has stuck with me. When I was curled up on the bathroom floor bleeding so badly that I couldn't leave the safety of the easily bleachable vinyl flooring. When I buried our baby. When I watched as multiple people announced their pregnancies and due dates that were days before or after my own. It has to get better right? I know my life doesn't suck, and I am incredibly blessed, and I am thankful for that. But at the depths of despair, when all hope seems gone, the phrase "It has to get better... Right?" has often been my mantra of choice. When I said those words at the end of the school year and I knew there wouldn't be a paycheck coming with my name on it, we struggled for a few weeks and then Jason got a huge raise. When we felt like we would never be able to get out of debt, our refinance went through and we could pay off enough stuff that we felt secure again. Even when I got my new calling, had to teach alone my first week and then LOST four of my five 4-5 year old kids in my primary class. I've said it a lot. So now, I wait. I wait for the better. I don't know if that means we decide that we can't physically or emotionally handle trying to have a child  or that we get pregnant. Maybe we will get a surprise chance at adoption, but for now that door is closed for us and would only be warranted a reopening by extreme circumstances. I guess for now I will do what Ellie does in Up- turn my face to the Sun and wait for the better.