Trusting God in the midst of infertility

For most of us women we remember where we were, what we were wearing, and who we shared the news with when we first found out we were expecting. For women who have faced infertility, we also remember exactly how long we waited to get that news. It feels almost like the stars have finally aligned and someone waved a "magic" wand reciting abra cadabra and suddenly you're pregnant! Not that I believe that, but there is a moment that feels magical.  We can also remember how much we had to place our trust in God for this miracle we worried may never come.

For me the "magic" number has been Two. Two long years we waited for Sam. Two more long years we waited for Sarah. And now it's been two years since we lost Andrew.

I remember praying and telling God that if we were only meant to have the two children we already had, that I would be content with that. It wasn't easy. I remember all the tears, crying, and laying my heart before a God I wasn't even sure heard me. Just a few weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Sam. His name has special meaning because it means "asked of God." I had just given away the crib. I had moved on.

Again when we decided to try for a fourth child, another girl, we had no idea what we would go through and that it would be another two years of waiting. We were finally told we probably wouldn't achieve pregnancy without a fertility specialist.  Two months later I sat in an exam room, dreading more bad news only to be told I was actually pregnant. I nearly fell out of my chair! I very well might have if the doctor hadn't given me a big hug! I had just given nearly every baby gear item I owned away! We had prayed and left it in God's hands.

After Sarah was born we were adamant that we were done. No more babies. It was just too hard waiting and trying for these babies. As the date approached for K to go to the urologist and have an initial appointment for the big V, I began to feel so much conviction. I felt God pressing on my heart. How could we as a couple who begged, prayed, pleaded, and above all trusted Him for our babies suddenly decide that we were going to take matters into our own hands and cut off the ability to have more children?

If He was really our God, and we put all our trust in Him, what gave us the right to take control of the one thing we'd learned we were never really in control of to begin with? So with that we decided the big V wouldn't happen. We decided we would trust Him for our family size. We were so confident that there probably wouldn't be anymore children. After two trips through the land of infertility that lasted two years each time, I wasn't completely convinced we'd have more. I wanted to believe God had healed me from this painful area of my life, and I chose to act as if I'd been healed. I also made it my mission to share the miracle God had done for us.

When we found out I was pregnant with Andrew, I then fully believed God had healed me and we would most likely have babies more often, and closer together now. I was preparing my heart for being a stay at home, homeschooling mom that drives a minivan, then a suburban, then maybe a 10 passenger van. When we lost him, I was confused, hurt, angry. I didn't understand what God was doing? We had placed our trust in Him for our family size! Losing Andrew was not part of the plan!

The last few weeks, I have been in a sort of countdown. Andrews birthday, and the two year mark has been barreling towards me like a freight train out of control. I can't stop it, and I can't avoid it. June 2nd will come, and there's not one thing I can do about it.

I'm now at a crossroads. We already know we will never do anything permanent to control our family size. But, it's been two years. One part of me wants to get rid of all my baby gear and move on with life. The other part of me wants to save every last thing because I'm so afraid I will then get pregnant after I get rid of it all. It's happened twice before, why wouldn't it happen again? I'm not holding my breath by any means. But if I get rid of it all I will then be faced with the anxiety provoking task of obtaining more stuff in order to be prepared if we do get pregnant. Or do I hold onto it until I know for sure there will never be anymore babies, and it's all rendered virtually useless by any decent, fashion forward mama? I actually tried to start going through stuff in order to get rid of it. I chickened out. It might be a longer process than I realized. Right now, I have managed to loan out my swing, and am searching for the breast pump to loan to another mom. Baby steps are in order at this point.

The biggest thing I am learning in this journey is that when I placed my trust in God each time, for my babies, I was trusting Him to know what's best for us as a family. He knows when and how many babies He wants us to have. He already knows how He wants our family to look like. Just because we are trusting Him to be in control of our family size doesn't mean we will be able to have all the children we want. It means learning to be content with where we are in this parenting journey and looking objectively at our current family size, realizing there are always reasons God says "No", or even "Wait," (We are seriously busy people right now!) I am learning that how many children we have is not as important as trusting Him to be Lord of our life. Every aspect of it.

My four amazing gifts from God

My love affair with running... And how it saved me

When I was a teenager I loved to run. I didn't play sports, but found a lot of peace in running. It seemed to help me run away from my troubles when I really couldn't run away.

 Nearly three years ago I ran my first 5k. I had just delivered our 4th child three months earlier. After nine months of no running, I couldn't wait to get back to the gym. So when Sarah was only four weeks old I bravely got back to the gym and began running again. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to wait until I was released by my Dr. But I just couldn't stand the wait any longer.

 I'd had an on again off again love affair with running for most of my life. It seemed to be mostly off again due to either trying to get pregnant, or actually being pregnant. After Sarah was born I felt pretty confident that I wasn't ever having anymore children so my love affair with running could be rekindled. 

The 5k went better than I expected. A friend of mine joined me and was such a great cheerleader, cheering me on as I ran ahead of her. (She's a keeper!) My time wasn't too bad. I think it was under forty minutes, and the last mile was on the beach. Running and I had just reconnected in a whole new way! 

Not too long after that school started. No more races for me during school. There was no time. The kids had school and sports and I did have that amazing little one to take care of. Fast forward to March of that year. I was running outdoors again since it was warming up. I was training myself for the next round of races coming up in the spring/summer.

However I had to stop because I had just found out I was pregnant again. I had never gotten pregnant while still nursing a baby. I was in shock but happy. A little bummed about no running, but it would be worth it.

When we lost Andrew just barely a few months later, I was lost. I had all these emotions, and no idea how to handle it all. So again, once I was released by my Dr I began running to help relieve all the pain of this loss. It seemed to be the only thing that helped. The last two years I've used running as a form of therapy. I had developed such an extreme amount of anxiety and panic that running was the only thing I knew to do that would relieve the symptoms when they arose. I often found myself running and walking as often as I possibly could. I also began seeing a therapist to help me understand all the emotions, and grief I was experiencing.

In the last two years, we have had some life changes. Mostly for the better, but they have affected my running affair. Not long before my original due date with Andrew, I left my job I loved, in a Kindergarten classroom. I became a stay at home mom again, with occasionally substitute teaching at my kids' school. Ken started a new job that requires an hour commute every day, but allows him to be home more. And in August we began our home school journey, which was intended for the three oldest kids and ended up schooling all four. We also began attending a Friday homeschool co-op. That's a lot in less than two years. 

But since August I have been so engrossed in school, that I have neglected my relationship with my running shoes. Don't get me wrong, I would run all day every day if I could! But I felt guilty for taking time for myself to run, when I felt all the pressures of wife, mom, and teacher. I began chugging nearly a pot of coffee daily, and rarely made it to the gym. We had a rough winter of sickness which made it difficult to get to the gym. And it seemed like every time I got back to running, one or more of us ended up sick again! I also gained some weight back that I'd lost in the last year. By February I was frustrated and had to find a way back to the gym and my beloved treadmills. Well my prayers were answered! I discovered that the gym down in Long Beach had been taken over by our local YMCA. I had a better chance of getting there than twenty minutes away at the larger facility!

I laced up my shoes and got back to it! I started back with my C25K app on my iphone. Thankfully I didn't have to start back at the beginning. It's been rough, but I felt somewhat ready for the upcoming 5K in our community. A week before the race I got sick with a nasty cold. I thought for sure I wasnt going to be able to participate, but kept running as much as possible with a hacking cough. By the Friday before I felt well enough to at least give it a try. I also managed to talk Matt into running with me. I had no idea he would pass me up and finish a whole five minutes sooner than me! That didn't help my ego much! If anything it only caused me to want to run more and beat his time.

We're nearing the second anniversary of Andrews death. All this time I've ran to relieve the pain of our loss. But things are changing. I'm healing. The anxiety and panic attacks are mostly all gone. I can now be in large crowds without worry that I will have an all out panic attack for the whole world to see. I'm getting better and stronger with my running. I don't seem to need to run for therapy as much anymore. I'm actually beginning to enjpy it as a regular part of life and exercise. Running saved me from a longer healing, or worse. It has been a more positive form of coping than I ever imagined. 

 The best part is that my family wants to join in on this activity. Sam ran nearly a mile and a half during our last family walk. Now he wants to run a marathon with me! I'm just hoping to be able to run a half marathon and survive! I'm also secretly hoping this love affair will rub off on my family! 

My first 5K with my cheerleader and friend Melissa

My second race, with a new running partner Matt