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Thursday, April 3, 2014

Did You Know? - Part 1

I think it's high time I just laid some things out.  It's a spring cleaning of sorts of my inner bookshelf.  Many will say "You have a story, and we need to hear it."  I'm here to tell you that you have many stories.  Some may seem trivial or just like a pity party.  Others may be so deep you need a full wetsuit and oxygen tank to plumb.  How else can we get to know each other if we don't tell these stories?

I'm going to start with one here today, and my hope is that over time I'll add more.  I'd love to hear your stories, too.  You can email me, leave it in the comments, or leave a link to your own blog.  Whatever works best for you is fine with me.

Up front I'm going to tell you that these will be all over the place.  I'm a bit of a grab bag.  I have a feeling you are, too.  Let's jump straight into the deep end here and get wet all over.  It's the easiest way to adjust to the water.

I've had four unsuccessful In Vitro Fertilization treatments.  My fingers paused above the keys as I started to write "failed".  I don't know what made me go with a different word.  It just seemed to ache less.  Now I'm left pondering why that is and why we choose certain words over others, but that's for another day.

Back to the IVFs.  The first was wrapped up in so much tragedy that it is hard to separate the experience from the environment that surrounded me.  At the time, we lived in eastern North Carolina and I drove through a flood-ravaged state to Eastern Carolina University.  This was just after Hurricane Floyd devastated the counties surrounding our home.  I drove by empty shells of homes with mounds of detritus at the ends of driveways, sofas caught in fences above my head, and big wheels in the middle of soy fields.

I related emotionally to everything I saw around me.  Reality had swept in, cleaned me out and everything looked covered in mud.  Kitchen lights are cold in the morning when you are sitting with syringes, ice to numb the skin, and bandages to cover the bleeding.  You try to not let hope fill you at the same rate as the needles fill the sharps container.

Every bit of life is scripted, all the rules are followed and there is nothing to show for it.  After all the degradation and humiliation of being a subject at a teaching hospital, you try to find dignity.  You also skip church on Mother's Day and Father's Day.

When you feel strong enough and the bank account has built back up, you try again, and maybe again, and maybe one more time.

When the specialist says that you have to give them one more shot, you think about all the ones you've given yourself and most assuredly say that you do not.

It's the grasping for what should be so innate that multiplies the tension and frustration.  You don't want to talk about it for fear of making others uncomfortable.  A keen sense of empathy has developed with what makes others uncomfortable.  I pray that hasn't been the case here.

I don't want to leave you with a sense of pity for me, I just want to let you know that this is part of my history.  I don't skip church anymore - although I cringe at how many churches treat those two holidays.  I have come to a "Joseph" place where I see the plan that intended it all for good.  It was a long road, but one that led to eventually to Las Vegas.

Perhaps we'll meet there next time.

Your turn.  I want to hear one of your stories.  No need to go where you aren't prepared, but anything that helps me know you.  Maybe you can just tell me about why you loved or hated high school.  I'm all ears.

10 comments:

  1. Amy, thank you for sharing your deepest of hearts on this one. We so, SO need this story, as I feel so many aspects of infertility are hidden behind lock and key in hearts. Thanks for opening your heart here on behalf of 'unsuccessfuls' everywhere. Holding you close...

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  2. Amy thank you for being brave and sharing I know your story will help so many not feel alone. Love you. And messaging you my story!

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  3. My heart hurts every time I read or hear about someone struggling with infertility. I remember my own ache and hurt when we were first trying to get pregnant (even though in reality it didn't take nearly as long as it felt). I remember the pain after the first miscarriage. 2 boys later I remember the feeling of ache after the next miscarriage and the not wanting to go to church for all the people who love me and would pull out all the tears that were right there on the surface. I have been blessed with 3 children who I get to share my life with. I never take that for granted because I know so many who cannot. Thanks for sharing your heart and a part of your story. I am working on sharing mine at www.caseyprince.me . Hope you will come visit there!

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  4. Have you met Marcy from No Maybe Baby (she links up all the time on FMF)? I would hug you if I could, I have no words to offer because I have not walked where you have walked and I don't want to risk sounding trite or triumphant what I shouldn't. I can only say "Thank you for sharing your heart."

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    1. I love Marcy!!! Thank you for your sweet words and your heart.

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    2. Thank you, ladies! I big love you girls too. Amy you are so brave in this sharing.Sending you love and hugs, sweet sister.

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  5. Thanks for bravely sharing this part of your story, friend. One part of my story that's sometimes hard for me to share is my victory out of domestic violence. There are others. It's hard because sometimes my story affects the lives of other people and it's too easy to get bogged down in what will they think if I talk about sensitive stuff. That's old tapes playing from my growing up years when we didn't talk about family secrets. Grateful that we can encourage one another to stand strong in our own stories and particularly in how God can and will use them!

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  6. I can think of many reasons for why you were meant to start this blog and why you have made so many connections in the blogging world. But I think this might top the list. Thank you for sharing your heart here, sweet friend. You have invited others into the hurts in such a healing way. I am so proud to call you friend and I love you more than words!!!

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  7. All the stories we have shared. And never once this one. Thanks for sharing it here, friend. You've started to hear mine, too, I know. But I have a happy chapter to add right now. The guy - the "first date at the portrait gallery guy" - who I have known since I was a freshman at Vandy ... here we are, still dating 14 months later and starting to share a little more of our stories with each other. WOO-HOO.

    Miss you, friend.

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  8. I cringe on Mother's Day at church thinking about how painful it must be to all the couples struggling through infertility. Thank you for sharing.

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