I'm Melodrama

If you think I'm melodramatic when it comes to remembering my journey through infertility and wish I'd let it go and talk about something else, baby, you're in luck. 

WASHINGTON IS AMAZING AND MY LIFE IS PERFECT. 

My perfect purple house! It has wooden floors, a wired sound system that can play in the bathroom or on the large back deck, a vegetable garden, and extensive flower beds. There are sky lights for the natural light to welcome me to each new day. We eat meals outside whenever we can. We sleep on a queen-sized bed in a blue room and welcome the opportunity for closeness. 

The perfect weather! Oh my goodness I've never experienced anything like it. When I left Texas it was a low of 95* and I arrived to Washington needing a jacket.  The highest it's been is 77*, once. I hear the sky's will cloud and darken, bringing the rain, but even then I think I'll celebrate that beauty. 

I couldn't ask for more. We explore the city, slowly making new friends, spending happy hours outside under clear skies that don't go dark until 10 pm.  Our perfect home is halfway between my work and K's school which are each just an 8 minute commute which means we are less stressed and together more - that alone is priceless. 

I look forward to each moment of each day that we're together. I look forward to the peace we've claimed for the next couple of years as we live out our dream come true. 

Maybe I was insufferable for you in the midst of my deepest sadness.  Well, welcome to my joy. 

Always

My period will never stop being a reminder of my infertility. 

Before I knew anything about anything I thought getting a period as often as I do (every 18-22 days) was a blessing because it meant more chances than the average person to get pregnant. It was a grounding realization to discover that such a frequent cycle actually made it much, much harder for me.   Having so many periods quickly became the bane of my existence. At least, I would reason with empty air, at least if you aren't going to let me be pregnant stop making me get a period all the damn time. 

Unfortunately, empty air gives no fucks for my logic so every 18-22 days all the planning, the medicines, the surgery, the prayers, and my body became once more obvious failures. Every 18-22 days I had to let K know that he still wasn't going to be a dad.  Every 18-22 days I had to decide if I was strong enough to do it all over again.  

It cut me to my core to bleed, and so frequently. I will never forget the deep sadness that came from having it confirmed that the cramping I felt wasn't from the implantation of a tiny embryo but my barren body shedding its useless tissue. 

I never stopped hoping otherwise, though, and that's how it got me, how it nearly destroyed me. I really thought each month that if I did this thing and that, if I prayed harder, tried harder, changed, added, or subtracted some certain thing maybe maybe maybe please please please it would work. Still  my period showed up as faithful as ever to destroy my hope and, as silly as this may sound to someone, it's something I'll never be able to forgive.

So, now, after everything and with my baby clinging to my side,  every 18-22 days I get the reminder that some things never change. 

Winnie the Pooh Life

Four years ago K and I stepped off a plane into the beauty that is the great Pacific North West. Our vacation was brief, nothing more than a long weekend, but we left promising ourselves that one day we'd find a way to live there.  As life home in the south picked up we began to think that maybe it wouldn't be possible, that maybe the PNW was only ever to be our preferred vacation destination.  We visited once more and talked fantastically about some far off time in the future when we'd retire and build a house on a hilltop with a breathtaking view. That was the most we dared to hope - an adventure 50 years away.

You'd think I would have learned by now that nothing goes according to plan.  In 2 weeks, it will no longer just be the PNW...it will be our home!

The Lord has been very kind to us this year.  I don't deserve it. I've, frankly, been a rebellious brat for plenty of years.  I've been confused, doubting, the chief among sinners.  My heart has been guarded and half asleep.  His Grace, though, is more than my rot and He has decided to take it easy on me, fulfilling my deepest desires.   I have my sweet daughter, a marriage that is strong and playful, and a new life awaiting me in one of the most beautiful places I've ever laid eyes on.   I'm excited to learn the lessons this God of Gifts is wanting to teach me in the kindest of ways.  It's a welcome reprieve.

I'd be lying, though, if I pretended this was not a bittersweet gift. I'm excited to embark on this journey but I'm grieved to leave behind all of those that I love.  The friends I have here are salve for my soul; they delight me - they love me deeply, flaws and all, and let me love them the same.  If I'm in need I can send one text and know that at least 3 people will be there to help me, not to mention the family that would give us almost whatever we could ask for.   I know they'll all still be here no matter the physical distance but I'll miss every hug and sweet smile that I've come to know and love.