But we both know someone else

You saw me, you saw me the day I needed a boost in faith. I didn’t even know you.. but we both know someone else.

Monday afternoon was just a regular day in my small town. I was working lunch when one of my girlfriends from school asked me how I was, how things are going and when are we going to have a baby? I answered with the truth: “We are still struggling. We are unsure about our next step.”  She replied back, ” What about adoption? Foster care? You two would be great for that.”

She is right, we would be great for that. We have a large yard, room at our dinner table and big hearts. We would love to welcome children into our homes and give them love they have never felt before. We would love to go to flag football games and cheer leading practice. We would love to show that little heart what love is, explain the love of God to them; we would love all of that. But to give up on everything thus far? Maybe it is a path for us to look down.. explore what foster care has to offer.

The look on my face must have said it all. I smiled at my high school friend and walked away with small tears in my eyes.  I know these hard conversations are going to happen, but sometimes they hit harder than others. Sometimes my brain spins faster than my heart beats.

A couple across the bar must have heard and seen it all. They waited until they cashed out (paying for a strangers lunch.) And looked at me with soft eyes and said, “We will pray for you.”

What? You will pray for me? You don’t even know me. You don’t know my name, my husbands name.. you know nothing about me. But you are going to take time out of your day to pray for me?

“Thank you,” I replied. “Thank you so much.”

“You are so brave.” The woman said. “I can see that you are having a hard time. We think it is great what you are doing.”

They saw me.

They left with that, I wanted to hug them. (For those of you who know me, I don’t do hugs.)  I felt so full when they left.. full with love and hope. Full of tears and a smile that no one could turn. God sent that couple to me that day.

They had no idea if I was close with the Lord, or knew him at all. But they knew that they were going to take a few seconds out of their day to say a prayer for me.

You saw me, you saw me the day I needed a boost in faith. I didn’t even know you.. but we both know someone else.

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You have been assigned this mountain

 

“You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved.”

I find myself always looking… always looking for a project, a puppy, (that’s not a joke) someone who might need my help or even a sign. Just something to reassure me that I am doing the right thing. That all the decisions I have made the past couple months are the right ones for not only me, but my family.

The night Aaron’s sweet grandmother passed away, I was mopping and cleaning up at work and found pennies on the floor. There you have it, it was a sign. Not much longer and we got a call that she had returned home to be with her daughter and God. I looked at the pennies and one had the year Aaron was born on it… there you have it, another sign. A sign that it was all ok and that Aaron was going to be ok.

These are things that I look for daily.

Once in a while one comes along that really get me. Really speak to me, gets my brain just spinning in all sorts of directions. This just happened to be one of them: “You have been assigned this mountain to show others it can be moved”

This is it, this a good one. I was “given” this struggle to be able to move past it. I have this label of being infertile so I can take it and twist it, make it my own. I am certainly not just infertile; I am blessed with a different eye on things. I wanted to cry when a friend announced that she was pregnant on social media, but I do not anymore. I wanted to yell at parents who don’t respond right away when their child cries their name (MOM) reaching up with their little arms and little fingers. I would have loved to be in those shoes; having a child reaching for me, even if it just for something small. But I do not anymore. I wanted to go to every specialist in my area, every doctor, every clinic .. figure out what it was going to take for me to have a child of my own. But I do not anymore. I am happy, genuinely happy.

This is me, this is what it is right now. One day God is going to place a child in our path and it going to be the greatest day of our lives. It may be our own, it may not be our own, it may be for a short time.. it may just be a foster child. But it is going to happen one day.

It has taken me a long time to get to this point. And I am at this point right now because today, I feel strong. There are days that I won’t feel this way and that’s ok. There are women out there who have been to so many more appointments than me, so many more years of trying. I am sure they have felt just as I did the day I put my hands up and said, “It’s all over.”

It was cold out, my eyes were full of tears.. I was in my jeep and just said it out loud. “It’s all over.” And from that moment on I have been working on me. This has entailed of me going to the gym, joining classes where I know no one. Taking trips to the book store alone just to get some air. Writing a lot more, and praying. This whole process has brought me closer to my true strong self and to God. There it is, the sign. It is not really “all over” it has just begun.

 

mountain

The mountain was put in front of me so I could move it and be moved, to right where I need to be.

 

 

 

 

 

“No one has me like you do..”

“I have never loved this big..”

Words I will never forget. Words spoken by my husband Aaron, part of his vows the day we promised each other forever. A sunny day in February on the beach of St. Petersburg… that is when our journey started.

It is one thing to explain to your partner that you may not be able to have children in the future.It is another to live it. It was a conversation had very early on for us. I was told at just 15 that it may be a problem for me.. I thought nothing of it then and let it go. Years later and we are here… those words are so much more powerful to me now. They sting; they bring me to a very low place at times. Although I am not on this path alone.. I feel I am. I feel like the world is against me, that I did something wrong, or that it is all my fault.

I cry sometimes before even getting out of bed, and then… and then just like that Aaron comes over and gives me a kiss (two actually.) And my world isn’t crashing as fast, my pain is lessened and he brings me back to where I belong. Next to him, next to our dogs, pig & cat. Next to my “as of now” family. They are my home and they are enough.

Infertility is always thought to be hard for the woman, which it is.. trust me, everyday is hard. But no one ever realizes how hard it is for the husband. Aaron was given such a gift, his love for me seems endless and his compassion for family is so strong. His patience is something everyone should envy..  Aaron didn’t ask for this. He has always wanted to be a dad. He didn’t ask to spend hours in a waiting room full of pregnant uncomfortable females and their crying children. He didn’t ask for the heartache or hurt; the wonder if he will ever be able to coach t-ball, throw a football with his son or teach his little girl how to tie her shoes. And he sure as hell didn’t ask for the fits of rage and uncontrollable tears during hormone treatments. But on that sunny day on the beach of St. Pete we promised each other forever. Promised to love wholeheartedly and have faith in God’s plan for us.

This may not be what we planned… but it is us. It is what is planned for us.

No one has me like you do, Aaron Grinder.

“I have never loved this big.”

All of it, always …

It’s always been all of nothing with me. There is no emotion I have gone through that wasn’t right on my face. Literally, I CANNOT HIDE IT. But I’ve tried.

For the last couple years I have tried my hardest to hide all these emotions, fears and doubts. I pretended to be “ok” with the fact that a treatment that cost us hundreds did not work. I pretended that my world didn’t crash when my pregnancy test read negative. I let it seem as though Aaron and I were just waiting for the right time when people asked at work, “When are you two having kids?” I smiled when I wanted to cry. I found myself falling into this hole where it was my normal to just be “ok.”

I wanted to be great, I wanted to glow, I wanted what seemed to be so easy for others to be easy for me.

“Take a vacation.”

” Just stop trying.”

“It will happen when you least expect it.”

All of those things that people say to you when they know what’s really going on.

I feel every emotion. Every emotion, every day. Every wave. All of it it, always.

Just now.

Just now..  from writing those emotions down, answering those questions I get daily with the truth and accepting those waves emotions do I feel like I am great. I feel like I’m not just “ok.” I am glowing, by the grace of God I am so great.

It’s always all or nothing.. I am going to dive right into being “more than ok.”

 

 

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