When It's Confirmed!

Just after I posted my last blog, catch-up here if you missed it... a dear friend of mine messaged me with a verse that God had given her.

Y'all it rocked me.  Because it definitely follows what I believe God has in store for this year.

Isaiah 54:  1-3  

“Sing, barren woman,

    you who never bore a child;

burst into song, shout for joy,

    you who were never in labor;

because more are the children of the desolate woman

    than of her who has a husband,”

says the Lord.

 “Enlarge the place of your tent,

    stretch your tent curtains wide,

    do not hold back;

lengthen your cords,

    strengthen your stakes.

For you will spread out to the right and to the left;

    your descendants will dispossess nations

    and settle in their desolate cities.

But here is why it rocked me?! One of the conversations God and I have had off and on for the past 6 years is how all of the stories I have seen in scripture about women who weren't able to have children.. ALL ended with them giving physical birth to a child.  ALL of them that I could find had the same miracle ending.

Why were there no words to someone who wasn't going to get that gift?  I like a happy ending as much as the next gal.  But clearly that is not every woman's destiny.

Oh, but there were words for that... in Isaiah.  Beautiful promises of descendants like an Abrahamic promise.

I had to share it... because maybe you are there to?!  Maybe you can't have children. Maybe you've had a child, but have been unable to have a second.

You are not forgotten.

Families come in all shapes and sizes.  

Harvest.

-Gina

One Word - 2019

As I start this blog, the first in a long while, it’s barely Christmas Eve – 2018. I love Christmas usually. It’s been a top holiday for my entire life. But this year, is a real struggle.

I’m adding a nice disclosure at the top here, because dudes… you may not want to delve in to this.

And ladies – if you have any infertility triggers this may not be the blog for you.

Ready – here we go…

This year caps off a 6 year fertility journey. I say that because it truly was a story with twists and turns with some highs… and some crushing lows.

I say ‘was’ because that journey came to its official end on 12/13/18. I went in for an exploratory surgery to remove a cyst on an ovary and left completely barren.

I knew that a hysterectomy was a distinct possibility. I knew from all of the scans and studies of all things chick related, that it was quite possibly a big old mess down there.  I mean, two little lives had started a journey there and checked out well ahead of their expected stay. The ultrasound and CT scans from the ER both showed unmistakable issues.

The doctor prepped Al and me before anesthesia to make double sure that I was ready.  I laughingly told him that my uterus wasn’t doing the job I’d hired it on for, so it might as well go.

It’s easier to be all giggles about that in an abstract sense for sure. It was the right decision for me. Out of my 28 day cycle – regular as clockwork – I had 3 days of horrific pain cause by the cyst every other month or so. Then every single month for the past 3 years I had close to a week of debilitating pain as the fibroids that took over my uterus tortured me into submission.

Womanhood is not for the faint of heart.

This season always struck me as so full of hope. In each of our years since marriage I was sure that we were closing in on our miracle. My “word of the year” often reflected that – hope – joy – journey – renewal.

This year that specific hope, the hope for biological children, is gone.

On the bright-side, I don’t have people telling me they are sure I’ll get pregnant as soon as we adopt.

Gone will be the hopeful – all in God’s timing pep talks.

I never have to smile through a “well at least you’re having fun trying…” K (just don’t… y’all).

Barren  

I’m half tempted to make that my 2019 word.

It seems so final. It’s tinged with a grief I could not have fully expected.

And entering into a holiday that begins with a miraculous birth, the finality of the ending to this journey seems bitter… barren.

LATER

I waited a week to start this back up again. It wasn’t intentional. I think I just needed to sit with these ‘feels’ a bit.  I got nice and sick over that time. A cold took me fully down to my bed for hours out of every day. I’ve spent a lot of time praying. I’ve spent a lot of time crying. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking.

------Lest you think me super devoted, I’ve also binged an entire series of baking shows on Netflix-----

Every year for the last probably 15 (I need to check my journal to be sure), I have chosen to pick a word for the upcoming year. Resolutions are generally pointless.

In the past, I have found focus in a word, just one word usually, that gave me something to push into.

When I started this, I jokingly said that maybe “barren” should be my word. Ok, maybe not entirely joking. It’s that dark and sarcastic humor that has become a pretty steady coping mechanism.

But barren is definitely not my word.

So what is?

Harvest

As I am awake again tonight going over so much in my heart, Psalm 126 keeps rolling around.

I was going to just pick a piece of it here – but it all applies.

When the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for them.”

The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.

Restore our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev.

Those who sow with tears will reap with songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.

Harvest

2016 – 2017 – 2018 I sowed with tears. I lost things that almost no one knows about. I grieved hard. But I sowed. No to be all “own horn tooter…” I got the privilege to share about my faith multiple times. I got the joy of leading a whole group of people in a verse by verse study of Revelation – start to finish – every line. I got to continue to help lead worship at church.

I chose to sow. I wanted to give up. I wanted to give up a whole bunch of times. I had to lay low a few of those times because of how dark some of them got.

My actual conversations on the way into surgery were about God's calling on us into foster care. The last thing I remember, was telling the nurse about the faithfulness of God in that journey.

I chose to sow.

2019 – It’s harvest time.  I feel it within the depths of myself. I don’t believe that a calendar flipping over defines a fresh start.  What I do believe, is that it is a good place to plant a memory stone (see Joshua 4).

I’ll keep sowing too, because some of these things still need planting (hello long lost book writing) and tending to (hello old daily devotional).

Harvest – 2019 – It’s that year!

-Gina

The Other Mother

There is an aspect of foster parenting that many people never consider - Biological Parents.
It is super easy to be on the outside of this broken system and judge people who you know nothing about. "I would never" sounds good in theory. But real life is just not that black and white.
It is way less easy to look in the eyes of parents whose world has been stripped and judge them.
In our lives, we are all one dumb decision away from our world crumbling.

I met them today. It's our first case where we've had such direct involvement with the family. I was prepared to sit and cry with frustration. I was prepared to sit across from her unmoved.

I was wrong.

I was not expecting to introduce myself and be greeted with a tight hug and a tearful thank you.

I was not expecting to hear their progress and realize that my whole heart - even the part of it stolen by this beautiful baby - longs for their reunion.

These families are not stats on a sheet. They are real people. They face obstacles that honestly make me long to smooth things over for them.

Reality - You don't just foster a kid. You foster a family.

Reality - I've never rooted so hard for someone to shatter my heart to mend theirs.

The journey is hard all the way around because of the broken, broken world we live in.

But there is hope. Rough days are ahead for our sweet boy's mom and dad. I sure would appreciate my praying people to keep them in your hearts and prayers as well.

If we all work together, the future will have our precious boy tucked safely in a room down the hall from people who radically changed the course of their future. They will have done the hard work... for him.
Please God, make it so.

To the Other Mother:
This mother has your back. You can do the hard stuff. You can make the hard choices that this will require.
We are behind you.

-Momma Gina

If We're Being Honest

I just realized, the last time I wrote here my brother was still alive. The last time I wrote here I just thought things were tough. I think I'm glad that I had no idea how much rougher things were going to get.
So far in 2016 I have seen a friend die. I have stood at the bedside of my big bear of a brother and said goodbye for now.
I have lost much to this year.
I decided the second half of 2016 needed to live up to its name and bring some redemption.
But so far, well its brought some realizations.

Fertility drugs make you crazy. Well they make you feel crazy. They amp you up emotionally so you manage to either be unhinged crying or unhinged angry.
This time around they are also making me seriously nauseated at everything around.
I am NOT a happy camper.
And I'm really only here for one reason - a simple reminder.

Out there in your world 1 out of every 8 couples is trying desperately to either get pregnant or stay pregnant.
Out there in your world there is a woman whose body has betrayed her over and over again. The one thing that is seems everyone else just "does" her body just doesn't.
Out there in your world there is a man who has no idea how to help his insane wife deal with the ups and downs of a process while he struggles through the process himself.

We are your 1 in 8.  But I bet you know more and you have no idea.

I wish with just about every part of me that I didn't know the freakin in and outs of fertility. I wish I didn't know about the medicines and the ultrasounds. I do not mean the great ones where you see a little body on a screen. I mean the ones where you see a blank canvas and hold your breath and pray you hear "Ok, we can do this." I wish I never, ever had to hear someone say "just relax," or "it'll happen when it happens" or "my cousin's neighbors sister had problems and they did x" or any. other, thing.

It seems weird to put this out into the world. But what seems weirder is to navigate this in silence. I'm a freakin mess right here. I can go from laughing hysterically to sobbing in about 2 seconds. And I literally walled myself off most of this week because I just could not deal with the headaches, the smells, the STUPIDITY (it's me... it's not you), or anything else the world had to toss at me.
All this for a chance, just a chance, at what 7/8 couples take for granted.

Right now, I'm sick and tired. I'm scared to hope for a different outcome. And I'm hoping with all my heart.
If you made it this far thanks for listening.  And please pray that this is our turn around month/
Gina