Self Portrait

I was inspired by some of the photographers I admire to pursue the art of the self portrait this week. I feel like there are new developments in the person I am, and I feel like the only thing to do is capture it. Creating this portrait then inspired me to write, something I have felt less than inclined to do in the past year. Somehow, this photograph helped me decide to share.

Ryan and I have not been vocal about the pursuit of living children since Mason died. The reason for this is because I decided I was finished being pregnant then. For about a year, we were sure that I never wanted to be pregnant again and our family would thereon out be grown with adoption. 

However, an epiphany came to me in March of last year. I felt peace wash over me and a message that praying and believing that I could carry a living child was allowed. So, we began praying and believing. 

I chose not to share this then because I always carry this pressure that outsiders would think that a living child would "fix" our grief, that a living child is all we sought. We don't need that kind of projection on our choices, nor judgment for trying to conceive. The testimony I want to have all of my life is that our babies aren't the end goal- Jesus is. Even in deep pain, we still have a Good Father. I've wanted to continue to show that life can be abundant even without living children. Because it can and will. 

At risk of oversharing, I was extremely fertile when our babies were conceived. Every time, on the first cycle. We were extremely cautious after Mason. So, we believed that since Ryan came back in September, I'd be six months pregnant by now. A friend joked that at the homecoming she wanted to jump in front of me and intercept my fertility, given my history he'd look me in the eyes and it would be over. It made me hopeful and a bit cocky.

But here we are, six months and some very strange cycles later. I saw my doctor this week, with a late end of cycle and 4 negative tests. A blood test confirmed negative, but he is pretty confident that I'm not ovulating for whatever reason. I will wait to begin the next cycle and try Letrozole.

On the grand scale of infertility, I know this is not comparable. I know it is six months (two of which were kind of expected) and not six years. I hope my friends struggling so long with infertility know that I am aware that this is short, fixable, and merely a toe-dip in your world. 

But I am wrecked. I feel broken where I once was sure my body did its "job". As a woman, I feel foreign to myself and angry. I'm shocked at best. Ryan is away for perhaps another month, and the loneliness (even though I've been surrounded by sweet friends) is real. I can't truly explain exactly how I feel with words, and so that's where my self portrait came in. 

I wanted something to do with my hands, and the only obvious thing was the piece of needlework. I chose colors for a baby blanket in August and started on it the very day Ryan came home. It was a tangible thing to represent our belief and hope- this is being made intentionally. It will be used for the next baby in our home. 

I still believe that, but I don't know when or how. I never did. Another friend mentioned to me this week that after loss we still have this false sense of control, and it's true. I thought I even had control over when another child would be placed in our arms. 

That's why I chose this shot. There are a few obvious technical mistakes and I still love it. I felt everything was controlled when I sat down but you can see the yarn coming unraveled by the chair and my eyes followed a car driving past the house as I tried to gather it all back together. I lost focus on what was happening, and created a true-to-me self portrait. I feel alien from the moment this week, navigating through this new unraveling in my heart. 

That is where we are. Where I am. I choose transparency again, in hopes of framing how we'd like to be reacted to in this part of our journey. Please don't offer any self cures or suggest what route you believe should be taken. We do have plans for adoption, but that would require some stability for our family- at least knowing we'd be in the same state for longer than 6 months. We eat healthy enough. I track my body well. I use oils and no unsafe medications. We don't want a surrogate. We aren't sharing to seek the counsel and solutions we know many others may have, we are seeking support and prayer in the wait. Please, don't be dismissive.

As always, we are still so thankful. While this week has revealed some new layers of grief, we know that we are loved. I also know that recently I may have been defensive at kind comments that imply you're praying for our family to grow, and for that I apologize. It's truly appreciated. We have, however, come to pray with a "yes and amen." We know that our plans don't always match His ways and so we seek both- a living child and the peace to live with a "not right now." 

Praise for the Simple Man

It's all over these days, and I'm over it.

The message that tells us if something doesn't take our breath away or make us feel like we are fictional characters being passionately courted on a marble staircase, it is not worth our time.

It's not acceptable for a woman to place herself with a man who doesn't bring the firework stand to every conversation.

It's called "settling" if each interaction doesn't trigger the same rush of adrenaline as parachuting from a plane.

And it is mediocre if the excitement of loving the man you're with pales in comparison to the excitement the female heroine feels in romance novel written by (drum roll...) none other than a woman.

We expect too much.

I believe that Hollywood has made a big difference in how the modern woman experiences love. In our search for wild, crazy, and passionate we set ridiculous standards. So in order to reach us, our men attempt rising to these standards.
It will last for a moment. Probably long enough to marry and spend a few years in blissful ignorance... but most men are not capable of continuously jumping through impossible fiery hoops in order to prove their affections! If you or someone you know seems to be, there are secrets being kept. If flawless wooing is the norm after years together, you may need counseling.

Don't read me wrong.. At some points, a man's love should take your breath away. You deserve to feel it. I'll never forget the big, storybook romantic things that Ryan's done for me:

-A lovely bouquet of flowers when we were not together, bearing no card nor giveaway that they were from him...

-An air mattress in the bed of the truck to watch the sunset and a movie in the middle of a field (citronella candle still melted on that mattress)...

-A surprise drive from AL to SC just to spend 24 hours with me only one weekend after he'd moved there...

-An effort into giving me a necklace unique from all the other spouses' at flight school graduation...

-Gifts like a bicycle just because or new furniture for our anniversary...

These are a few. All of his grandest gestures are burned in my memory. The times he's gone above what he needed to just to make me feel special are important and I hold them dear. But they do not set the standard by which I gauge his love for me.

Hollywood's changed the standard for so many women. We only praise the most extraordinary measures taken now. YouTube is full of the extravagant proposal, competing for "likes". There are shows now dedicated to over the top dating. It's not enough to just go to dinner and a movie anymore, because on the latest episode he took her to drink champagne and play putt putt on an actual volcano.

We don't want love, we want the thrill of love. We don't want someone to walk through life with, we want someone who is chasing after us, walking through fire and trying to catch up. We are lonely until we have found the mind-blowing, sensational man. When he has used up all of his mind-blowing, sensational tricks we are lonely again and decide there must be better...moving on to another man forced to spit out all his best to impress.
It becomes a cycle where good men are thrown away, and then asked: "Where are all the good men?"

Or, we marry the thriller of a man and wonder why he becomes a boring one years down the road. He, too, has run out of amazing... or his amazing just couldn't compete with the amazing you keep dreaming up.

Instead, can we not just appreciate men for being good? For graceful leadership? For hard work? Can we not marvel at their simpleness and then also revel in their occasional grandness?

Can we begin to long for a clear man, who will tell you that he loves you, you knowing that may be the grandest gesture of the day? Can we become infatuated with quiet, straightforward, uncomplicated?

Not every story is meant to sound like Casablanca. Perhaps our story is meant to be effortless and invariable, steady as a heartbeat.

So here's to you, the simple man. May we turn from the burning glamour in knowledge that it all eventually burns out, and turn toward your quiet love, happy for a lifetime of smolder.
May we also never forget the small, mundane gestures you perform for us:


-Closing the bathroom door while getting ready for work in the mornings so the light doesn't wake me...

-Walking inside after a long day and noticing first thing that I've vacuumed...

-Your quiet marriage proposal in the living room between the Christmas tree and the couch, hand trembling as it rested on my pajama panted knee...

-Bringing home surprise treats like a Dr. Pepper or Japanese soup...

-Complimenting the dinner though you know it came from a box...

-Placing a screwdriver by the appliance I'm going to disassemble, you know I'll have trouble finding one...

-Backing my car out and back in the garage after yours is moved, making it easier for my pregnant belly to get in the door...

-Letting me lead the way on a hike, knowing it'll be us going in circles...

-Holding my hair back when I'm sick, leaving notes by crackers to make sure I eat...

-Calling to let me know you're thinking of me when you're away...

-Paying the bills before I can even think about them...

-Planning for date night without me having to ask for one...

-Kisses good morning, goodbye, hello, and good night...


May all of these things be burned in our memories as well, held just as dear as your grandness and celebrated just as loudly- if not louder. May these be the things that weaken our knees.

Thank you. You are simple. You are riveting.

Conversations When Love is Complicated and Marriage is Messy

Once (sometimes twice) a week for the past few weeks, my husband has left work and come to sit with me in waiting rooms, then in exam rooms, then in our living room, then in our bedroom.

He will leave work once a week for the next few months to keep doing the same.
My life will come to revolve around the check-ups, as if they don't already.

We have been and will be sitting with each other. Unable to express feelings, unable to comfort one another. All we can do is be, and that is such a hard thing to do while so much is left unfixed.

In less than two weeks I'll be in my third trimester of pregnancy. It's all gone by so quickly, and now it is going by too fast.
While we should be attending baby showers, completing her nursery, stocking up on diapers... we will simply be walking past the vacant room that was already filling with gifts and DIY projects for her, trying not to linger too long next to the infant section in stores, avoiding conversations about parenting children past a day old.

The probability that our daughter won't come home with us is a hard thing we've had to admit to ourselves. We shared with our family, with our friends, with our entire village... and we still can't understand any of it. It's not like learning science or grammar- how if you repeat something enough it becomes knowledge. It's more like waking up every morning wondering what kind of nightmare you had, realizing that it was no nightmare and this is your life and you're one day closer to it blowing you away for real.

Out of order death is intolerable. Knowing that it's coming does not make it more tolerable- there is no "at least..." even though we know those who offer one only mean well. There just is not any *at least* when it comes to losing a child- whether it be at 4 weeks gestation or 20 weeks gestation or right out of the womb or 5 years old or 20 years old... so I encourage any friends reading this to try and find different comfort tactics, as this one does not really work.

As you can imagine, all of this makes our love complicated. It is no longer something that can be simplified into romance, or friendship, or even familiar love. It's all three of them at the same time, sometimes none of them at any time. It is happy and it is sad and we are in love but our hearts are also broken... and then we are trying to remember our love started all of this in the first place, and then we are mad at our love.

Hope is surely born of our suffering and there is not one piece of us that's given up, and we will not give up until it is all over. However, we cannot prepare for the most unlikely. Parenthood in a few months is the most unlikely. Miracles happen, we see them every day. But while we'd love to bring her home, we're not praying for any miracle. Eden is the miracle. Babies are miracles. We cannot pray to change one thing about her. We are praying for peace, understanding, and comfort in God's plan for our lives and our family. We are praying for our hearts while preparing for the likely. We are praying for the courage to make the best decision we can for her delivery and the moments we have with her. Therefore, our conversations are not those that we'd expect to have when moving into the final months of pregnancy.

Instead, our conversations are questions, "What are we going to do?"
Quiet and fun, like we're keeping secrets, "Feel her move. She loves your voice."
Reminders, "This is who called today. And we have cards from the mailbox."
Whispers, "Will this tear us apart?"

We talk about her. We want to talk about her, and we have to talk about her. She is not an elephant in the room, she is the human in my body. She shows us her personality so often already. She is shy, but when comfortable she is feisty. She loves us, we love her. She likes my singing and she likes hearing about her father's day. We enjoy her.

There is plenty of this that is sad and there's no use pretending it isn't. She has made a big mess of our otherwise easy marriage. BUT, I can say that she is making us more honest, more real, and more present for each other as we talk about her.

And along with all that there's the "What can I make you for lunch?"
The "All of the bills have come out of the account."
The "When was the last time the dogs had a bath?"
The "I looked at a few more properties in Washington."
The "Let's go to Redbox after we pick up a pizza."

It's only been a few weeks, of course, and we are not through the hardest part. But so far, our lives have not stopped. There are still things to be done and our life together does have to be respected enough to carry on. That does not mean we aren't sad... We are beautifully broken together but still have to find moments to be mundane and just eat regular supper or finish another season of Hart of Dixie on Netflix, mostly for sanity. We don't flirt too long with the sadness. We are trying to celebrate and enjoy the fact that we are growing a baby together, the fact that we can have a family and we love each other enough to do it. We still have normal married couple conversations.

But in-between the conversations about her and the conversations about life, there are the words that require no response.
There are the conversations that are not really conversations at all- as we are sitting with each other.
The words we speak knowing our love is a mess, the words we need to hear most inside the waiting room, the exam room, the living room, the bedroom:

"I love you."
"I need you."
"This will not tear us apart."