Our Littlest Gift

I wrote this when we received the results of the genetic testing performed on the tissue they obtained from our lost pregnancy.  There's nothing I could add to this now, so I'll simply repost what I wrote in January 2015.


As I understand it, "grace" is a gift from God which allows us to do and experience and understand things we couldn't do, experience, or understand on our own. Our lives without grace may lack direction or leave us unfulfilled - my guess is because we don't understand what God wants of us. When we know which way to turn next, it is because of grace.  We tend to think of grace as a happy, soothing feeling, but I'm not sure that's always the case. I think sometimes grace hitches a ride with more painful experiences. The kind after which we reflect and say "if not for that, I might never have gotten to this". I think it is in feeling the glow that embraces us when we are with "this" that we can appreciate the grace we've been given.

So in a nutshell, I think grace is a gift from God - received many times over, mind you - which gives us peace and direction and helps guide us toward the things we should be doing and experiencing in our lives. When the chromosomal test results on my miscarried baby came back telling us it was a girl, it just seems right that we decided to name our daughter Grace.


Ephesians 2:8 sums it up quite nicely for me: For by grace you were saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God.  Our littlest gift sent us on the path toward adoption now, already knowing that whoever the child is we bring into our family at this time, it will be because of Grace.

Please, Just Don't Say That

Since I've already posted a few things on my other blog about this topic, I'd like to migrate them over to this new one as a starting point.  In these several entries, I'll give you some background on how my path has weaved and wobbled so far, as well as some of the sources of support I have found and things I have learned.  Hopefully those of you who can relate to any of this will share your thoughts, experiences, and information with me and our community as well.

One of my first blog posts was right after my pregnancy loss right before Christmas in 2014.  In this post, I took the opportunity to lay out some things that are - and are not - helpful to say to someone going through infertility and/or pregnancy loss.  These are based on my own experiences as well as those of other women I'm connected with who may have different situations from myself.  You can read the post in it's entirety at "Meat Loaf and I Lay Down the Law", but here are some highlights:

I know I haven't posted in what feels like forever.  I pretty much stopped posting in the spring of 2013.  That's when two things happened - I switched jobs, leaving KPMG where I had been for close to 4 years, and I start trying to have a baby.  Let me summarize for you:
~I worked for the place I went after KPMG for 10 months then switched jobs again - I found something in my field and close to home and was very happy to make the change.
~Shawn graduated college and began working as a nurse.
~I was diagnosed (over time and 3 doctors) with PCOS, Endometriosis, and damaged "fingers" on my fallopian tubes.  I had surgery, take new medicines (which helped me drop 40 pounds), am learning all about the "joys" of fertility treatments, and just this week had a miscarriage.

In the full post I go into detail on each of these, but here's the summary of things I suggest saying or not saying if you want to be supportive.

Please, whatever you do, just don't say:
(For Infertility)

• You'll be pregnant in no time.

• Just relax.

• If it's God's plan, it will happen.

• Your child needs a sibling!

(For Miscarriages)

• At least you know you can get pregnant.

• You'll be pregnant again in no time.

• It's for the best.

• There's always adoption.

• At least you were only a few weeks along.

A "tread lightly" list:

• God has a plan.

• I think it will work out for you to be a mother, but I know this sucks right now.

• Do you want to talk about it?

Things that you can say:

• I'm praying for you.

• Can I pray with you?

• I've been there too.

• Let me know if you would like any resources.

• There's nothing wrong with you for feeling like that.

Since posting the original piece, I've had several other suggestions given to me by friends in my support group that I'd like to add.  

• I love you.
• Can I give you a hug?  (Or, if not together, "I wish I could give you a hug".)
• How can I support you?
• If you want to talk later or need help, I am here for you.

And please, please, PLEASE: do not forget us.  We're already feeling more alone than at any other time in our lives, even with our spouse or partner.  Send us a message to let us know you're thinking of us.  Take the effort to make plans with us.  And this one may surprise you, but don't stop including us as your own families may grow.  

There will be times we have to turn down invitations to protect our own vulnerable hearts, but on the whole we still want you to be happy and there will be days we will enjoy being with you and your family.  So invite us to baby showers and birthdays and holiday parties and BBQs.  Make it "safe" for us to be honest with you, and we'll take care of deciding if we can handle the event or not.  That's not your problem to solve:)

On A Tightrope

Welcome to my world.  I've been blogging since 2009 at My UII Blog about my life with chronic, invisible illnesses covering topics ranging from diagnosis & living with chronic illnesses to illness in the workplace and especially awareness & advocacy.  When infertility became part of my overall invisible illness experience I posted several times about it on my existing blog.  But as I spend more time in this world and plumb new depths, I realized that this topic is just so unique it requires it's own forum.

So here we are.  In the infertility world, we frequently talk about being on "this side" of things (going through the infertility cycle of testing and treatments and decisions) or on "the other side" (having a baby, adopting, or living childfree).  I find myself spending a lot of time worrying about what's in between.  It's a complicated, perilous path, certainly not as straightforward as walking across a bridge from "this side" to "the other".  I'd say it's more like walking a tightrope: a terrifying journey, hard to navigate and easy to fall from, at which point you find yourself back at the beginning of the entire cycle.  As anyone who's struggled to conceive and/or been through pregnancy loss knows, getting that positive pregnancy test doesn't make everything suddenly all better.  That test is simply the first step off the platform and onto a seemingly impossible path with months of fear even beyond what every mother-to-be experiences.  And what about people like myself, who know that our diagnoses are incurable, meaning that even if I have one successful pregnancy and birth, when I want another child I'll find myself back on "this side" of the journey, facing treatments and transfers and overwhelming risks?  We walk the tightrope again...or at least, we'll try.

But it certainly CAN be done, and it is done by some, and will be done by more.  And so I pick up my balance pole and pray for low winds as I peer over the edge of the platform on "this side", preparing to inch my way out onto the tightrope stretched before me.  And I'm inviting you along for the ride.