My Breastfeeding Journey

 Beautiful, thankful, nurturing, accomplished.

 If asked to describe my breastfeeding journey, I would certainly refer to the words above.  In addition, I would also have to include the following:

Frustrating.  Exhausting.  Time consuming. Unexpected.

It’s all so very 2020.

Before giving birth, I had assumed breastfeeding would take on a typical look: a lot of learning in the first day or so, sore nipples, and all the other uncomfortable but usual things that come with breastfeeding.  My mom never had any issues, and neither did her mom, so naturally, all would fall into place.  Breastfeeding is a natural process after all, right?  If you are familiar with my journey, and how well “natural processes” work out for me -  PCOS, 3 years of infertility, the risk factors and issues I had during pregnancy, and the complications leading up to my emergency c section, you’re probably wondering why I assumed that breastfeeding would be any different.  Call me a crazy optimist. Or just laugh at me.  Whatever.  It’s 2020 and I don’t care anymore. 😂

The night Janessa was born, the nurses came in to help me try to breastfeed.  Since I was still VERY drugged from my c section, I tried to tell them “No thanks, I’m sleeping”  But I think what came out was “Nnnthksis, mimsliping”   I vaguely remember Tanner saying something to the effect of “Can we just supplement with formula or something tonight?” before I slipped out of consciousness again.

The next morning, I finally got to try breastfeeding my daughter.  The hospital brought in a lactation consultant to walk me through the process, and help Janessa latch properly.  Janessa got a good latch, but my milk hadn’t come in yet, and I didn’t have much colostrum.  Janessa, being hungry, and less than 24 hours old, decided this situation was a rip off.  Cue the screaming - angry, loud, purple screaming. (and I get it, I’m pretty emotional when I’m hungry too).  Thankfully, our nurse had just returned from an international breastfeeding convention, and she worked tirelessly to help me learn different methods of feeding from other countries and different positions I could hold Janessa to help make feeding easier. (I also pumped several times that day to encourage my supply to come in).  By this time, my poor nipples were raw and red, but we finally found a few things I could do to help her latch.

By the next evening (Dec 6th), Janessa could latch, but would almost immediately fall asleep.  I had tried everything - a cool washcloth, feeding her uncovered, gently playing with her feet or tickling her neck - to keep her awake, but nothing worked.  I didn’t mind letting her comfort nurse, but she also needed the nutrition, since as soon as she would wake up, she would cry, and refuse to latch and try again.  So, every two hours, I would try to nurse her and get her to eat as much as possible, pump what I could, and Tanner would feed her with a syringe so I could sleep until the next nursing session an hour later.  We did this for 2 days.  It was exhausting and frustrating, but I wanted to push through.  I knew it would take a few extra days for my milk to fully come in, and we went home on the 8th, full of hope and optimism.

Over the next week or so, I worked and worked at nursing.  Since she was a little jaundiced, and had lost over 10% of her birthweight, the doctor wanted me to wake her up to feed her every 2 to 2.5 hours.  Unfortunately, Janessa takes after both her parents, and is dead to the world once she’s asleep.  I would wake her enough to get her to latch (and thank goodness for breast shields - they saved my poor nipples!), she would eat for maybe a minute, and fall asleep again.  It was so frustrating.  I was so tired.  So weary. So discouraged.  Why can’t I get this right?  What is wrong with me?   Sometimes we could get a good feeding session, but most of the time she wouldn’t stay latched, or wouldn’t stay awake.  So we kept on syringe feeding to make sure she was getting enough and to allow me to get some much needed rest.  I would pump and then Tanner would syringe feed.  Once my milk came in, I worked at getting her to nurse more.  But we faced the same struggles.  I was frustrated with her, with myself, and with everything.  The most frustrating thing is when something isn’t working and it’s no one’s fault.  

When Janessa was about 4 weeks old, we started bottle feeding at night to save my mental health.  Before this, Tanner would routinely find me crying right alongside Janessa at 3am as I struggled to get her to stay awake and eat, and then try to get her back to sleep so I could pump and keep my supply up.

By my 6 week postpartum appointment, nursing had become my #1 source of stress.  Janessa would latch fine, but wouldn’t finish nursing.  Tanner and I joked that she didn’t want to work for her milk, she just wanted it poured down her throat.  Try and try as we might, I couldn’t make this work for us. Pumping was much easier for me, physically, and I was able to gauge how much Janessa was eating.  At my appointment, I told Dr. Brewer that I was seriously considering exclusively pumping, for my own mental health, but that it made me feel selfish to think that way. Whenever I thought about it, I would think, “What kind of mother am I, that I don’t WANT to nurse like this?  Shouldn’t I want to do this?  Shouldn’t I try harder?”  The idea of going to EP brought on the mom guilt, but trying to nurse had me feeling like a failure. Dr. Brewer listened kindly, then asked me, “What do you think is more important?  Janessa being painstakingly breastfed by a perpetually stressed out mom, or being fed breastmilk from a bottle from a mama who is relaxed and happier?  You aren’t giving up or being selfish.  You are finding a way to breastfeed that protects your health too.”  Freed by her words, I kicked that mom-guilt to the curb.

So, my exclusive pumping journey began.  I tried to pump 7 times a day, 3 hours apart.  It took a little creative juggling, but I made it work - between having Tanner take Janessa before he left for work, waking up early, going to bed late, and pumping during nap times.  I was up to about 38oz per day by February - and then I got mastitis.  My supply took a hit, so I took several supplements, used a couple essential oils,  and tried eating different kinds of foods to get it back up. I never got back to 38oz, but plateaued at about 33 oz per day, which was more than sufficient, and managed a decent stockpile in the freezer.  

By May, we were fairly confident that Janessa had a dairy intolerance, so I switched to a dairy free diet and donated the almost 500oz of stored milk in my freezer - which hurt, but also I was so happy to be able to donate to some other babies in need! (And of course, as luck would have it, Janessa tolerated dairy just fine less than 2 months later).

I continued pumping, spending roughly 3 hours per day attached to the pump, and teaching Janessa to play independently so Mama could pump milk for her.  To keep my supply up, I would power pump once or twice per day and worked to stay hydrated.  An unexpected complication from pumping was weight gain.  Pumping made me hungry, hungry, HUNGRY, and for whatever reason, I couldn’t work out while breastfeeding.  (I know many women can, and do, but whenever I would work out, my supply would drop by almost 5 oz.).  I gained back all the baby weight I had lost, and now weigh the same as when I was 9 months pregnant.  The frustration took an unexpected toll on my self image, and I regret how few family pictures we have from Janessa’s first year as a result of the insecurities I faced.

By the end of October, I was OVER. IT.  Having stored up a decent supply in my freezer, I decided to cut back from 6 times per day down to 4, a week later down to 3, then 2 and finally, on November 25th, I pumped for the last time.  I expected to feel some pangs of sadness, but honestly, I have never been so relieved.  I’m excited to have time to myself in the morning to do my devotions, and have the freedom to exercise again.  

All in all, this journey has been nothing like what I expected or imagined, nor is it something I wish to repeat if I can avoid it, but I am so thankful I was able to provide breastmilk for my daughter and all it’s amazing benefits!  Fellow Mamas, all this stuff is so hard, and for many there are no easy answers.  Do what you need to do for your baby’s health and for yours - nursing, pumping, formula, etc - keep loving and feeding your babies! You all are amazing!

Janessa's Birth

Janessa Beverly Koellmann - 12/05/2019

December 4^th, 2019 – 38 weeks, 6 days

3:30 PM - 

I had an appointment with my OB to determine how we were going to proceed.  We had decided on an induction a few weeks before, as she did not want me to go past 39 weeks, due to complications and risk factors associated with Gestational Diabetes and Hypertension of Pregnancy during the last week of pregnancy.  Tanner and I went in, and Janessa was in position, but had not yet dropped, and I was dilated less than 1 cm.  Dr. Brewer decided to bring me in later that night to begin the induction process.

We went home, had dinner, and loaded our hospital bags into the car. My mom, who would also be present during labor and delivery, would meet us at the hospital.  As we drove, a sense of excitement and apprehension filled my soul.  We were checking into the hospital, and when we left, we’d be parents! – This thing we had dreamed about, hoped for, prayed for – finally upon us.

8:00 PM - 

Check in, get settled, meet the nurses.  The whole thing felt surreal.  Once we got settled, our nurse, Amy, gave me prostaglandin to begin the induction process.  Once that got started, there was nothing to do but wait.  I probably should have slept, but I was too excited, waiting for labor to begin.  Around 11 pm, I started having small irregular contractions.  Since I was already at the hospital, I didn’t need to time them…but I did anyway.😉  In a strange way, I couldn’t wait for labor to progress, and finally get to meet my baby girl!

I finally fell asleep around 3 am, and slept until 7 am shift change.

December 5^th, 2019

7:00 AM– 

Shift change.  Our nurse’s name was Terri (she was AMAZING💓).  She checked on my contractions, and I was dilated about 2 cm by this point.  Dr. Brewer came to check in, and told us to continue as we were until 2 pm.  If I wasn’t showing significant progression by then, we would start the Pitocin.  Nurse Terri looked over my birth plan – I had left everything on the table as far as pain management.  My plan was to start with no pain meds, and see how things progressed.  Nurse Terri talked with Tanner and me about different ways to manage pain naturally – breathing, labor ball, leaning, etc. I remember being so glad that she wanted to help me "do labor" naturally as far as I was able.  She told me, "I love that you left everything on the table.  Your body has all the tools to be able to do this naturally, but also know that if you want an epidural, that is 100% your decision.  You know your body and your own pain tolerance.  Do what is best for you and your baby."

11:00 AM–

 Still in early labor.  Mom went out to get lunch for her and Tanner. My contractions were probably a 3 or 4 out of 10 at this point.  I soaked in the labor tub for awhile and just savored the time with Tanner.

1:00 PM– 

Dr. Brewer did an exam, and I was still only dilated about 2.5 cm.  We decided to begin Pitocin in an hour.  I got my “last meal” before baby – clear liquids – jello, chicken broth, etc.  So filling….not! Ha!

2:00 PM– 

Began Pitocin.  Oh man – once we got going, I went from 3 cm to 5 cm pretty darn quick.  The contractions quickly became more regular and intense.  Tanner was by my side every moment, Mom filling in when Tanner needed restroom breaks, but otherwise it was he and I.  As my pain jumped to 5/10 and 6/10, nurse Terri brought me a yoga ball, and taught me to gently rock side to side with each contraction to help with the pain. She helped me breathe through each contraction and helped Tanner coach me through. (I honestly don’t know what I would have done without her). 

4:00 PM- 

Increased Pitocin.  Contractions came even more intense and closer together.  To help manage my pain, Terri raised the bed, so I could lean over and support my weight on the bed.  I held (squeezed) Tanner’s hand and listened to the playlist I had made for labor, and tried to breathe and focus through each wave of pain.  People say that labor pain is difficult to describe, and it’s true.  Not exactly like terrible cramps, but sort of.  It’s strange – pain yes, but pain that is leading to something wonderful.

4:30 PM –

 Dr. Brewer called and planned to come break my water around 5:30.  At 5:20, I felt something funny and told Tanner, “Um, I think my water *gush* ….just broke.” 😮(Possible TMI – my water breaking is by far one of the WEIRDEST sensations I have ever experienced.  It’s nothing like in the movies – a little splash and then done.  No, it just kept going!).  About 2 min after my water broke, Dr. Brewer came in.  I remember apologizing for making a mess on the floor, and she just told me, “There’s a reason we don’t have carpet in here.”😂

5:30 PM –

After my water broke, within about 2 contractions my pain went from 7/10 (wow this sucks, but I can get through it), to about 15/10 – (Oh my gosh, someone has 2 chisels and they are trying to rip my pelvis apart). I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.  I began to cry with every contraction. 

At this point I turned to Tanner and said – “I can’t. I want the epidural.”

 I turned to Nurse Terri, through tears and searing pain “Please. Give me the epidural.”

She told me that the process would take about an hour before the anesthesiologist would be able to administer the epidural.  They attached a bag of fluid to my I.V. and began the process (When she told me it would take an hour, I said, “Fine. Then I want an epidural an hour ago.)

While we waited, Tanner helped me push through each contraction.  They were about 60-90 seconds long and coming every 2 min, giving me 30 seconds between each one. (Around this time, Riley and Alyssa stopped by to deliver something to my mom.  Riley came in, heard the crying and hightailed it out into the waiting room😆)  Dr. Brewer came to do another exam.  We began to notice that with every contraction, Janessa’s heart rate dipped significantly – from the 140s down to 110 and even all the way down to 90 a few times.  As the contraction waned, her heartbeat would jump back up.  Dr. Brewer said that sometimes this is caused by the cord getting pinched when the fluid is gone.  She did a quick procedure to mimic the fluid being back in the uterus.  She explained that right now, the dip in Janessa’s heart rate wasn’t distress, but more like holding your breath with each contraction.   However, even after the procedure, Janessa’s heart rate continued to dip each contraction.

 

The anesthesiologist finally arrived. He worked quickly and efficiently to give me the epidural.  The worst part was the contraction that came on right when he needed me to be perfectly still.  There was a lot of screaming (Riley said they could hear me from the waiting room) and although I don’t recall, Tanner says there was a fair amount of swearing as well. 😂 Other than that, the epidural went off without a hitch, and within a few minutes, my pain subsided significantly.

6:30 PM –

Even with the epidural, Janessa’s heart rate continued to dip with each contraction, and it seemed like it was taking longer and longer to come back up.  Dr. Brewer came in to do another exam.  I was dilated 8 cm, but Janessa had not begun to drop to where she needed to be yet, and her head was tilted slightly, meaning I likely had several hours of labor/pushing left.  Dr. Brewer took a look at the heart rate and the general trend, and said that what she saw pointed toward an issue with the placenta – namely, a quickly expiring placenta.  She presented us with our options: 1). Keep laboring another 30 to 60 min and see what happens. Janessa was stressed, but not in distress yet. We could continue to labor to see if she progressed, turned her head, etc.  2). Opt for a C section.  I looked at Tanner, and we both looked at Dr. Brewer and said, “Do the C Section.”

From the moment we made that decision, a heavenly peace fell over my body.  In that moment, I knew it was the right decision. 

7:00 PM – Shift change (of course, I would make a decision to do a C Section right at shift change).  Nurse Amy took over and Terri filled her in on the day’s events.  As Dr. Brewer prepped the O.R., the anesthesiologist came to prep me for anesthesia (at this point, I was grateful we had gotten the epidural, as it made the transition to C Section much quicker and easier.) As everyone got everything ready (Tanner changed into scrubs, Nurse Amy got me ready, etc), I kept my eyes on the heart rate monitor, and willed the heartbeat to come back up after each contraction. At one point, one of the nurses looked at the anesthesiologist and said, “Are they ready yet? We need to GO.”

8:00 PM –

They wheeled me into the O.R. and moved me to the surgery table. The anesthesiologist administered the anesthesia, and I couldn’t feel a thing from my chest down.  He was wonderful.  He kept watch over the curtain and let us know exactly what they were doing. 

8:17 PM –

The most stressful part of the day for me was from the moment they made the first cut, to the moment I heard Janessa’s first cries.  And they were beautiful – strong, loud, healthy cries.  Our baby girl was finally here!  At last I had given birth!  Tanner went to watch while they cleaned and wrapped her up.  The moment they first put her in my arms is one I will never forget.  All the heartache, the tears, the waiting, the pain, the stress, all of it melted away in that one, sweet moment.  I held her on my chest (with Tanner’s support, since I couldn’t feel my arms), and breathed in the moment and cried, and laughed and gazed at my daughter in wonder and awe.

Shortly after, Tanner took her back to our room to meet Grandma and Grandpa Anderson, as well as Riley and Alyssa.  After coming back to the room, even with the delirium from fatigue, anesthesia and morphine setting in, I could not get enough of the baby snuggles, of knowing this was MY daughter, the one we had waited so long for.  Worth it all – the waiting, the wondering, the labor and birth. 

As it turned out, the decision to proceed with the C section was the right one.  Janessa had the cord wrapped around her neck a few times, but more startlingly, when Dr. Brewer pulled Janessa out, my placenta came right out with her.  It was completely DONE.  Had we waited, she would have gone into distress as the placenta continued to expire and we would have ended up with a crash C section or possibly losing her entirely.  Furthermore, after considering how the birth process had gone, and the fact that Janessa had never engaged or dropped, it is likely that my pelvis was too small for her to have passed through (we have a history of this issue in my family - it's actually the reason that my own birth was via C section).  I am forever thankful to God for the wisdom of my OB.  From beginning to end of pregnancy she listened, took every precaution with all of my risk factors (PCOS, Gestational Diabetes, Hypertension), and researched to make sure she could present me with all of the options available to me.

It was surely a crazy day, from a slow start to a whirlwind finish, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world.  

When Hope Is Painful

"I'm probably not pregnant."
"I mean...I don't really feel pregnant."

"But oh..." the hope welled into my chest, pushing all the air out of my lungs in breathless anticipation. "What if I am?  What if I really am this time?"

I take a deep breath and look down at my lap - one line.

And that same hope is suddenly changed - as the joy in my chest becomes the lump in my throat.
Every time.  Why do I do this to myself? I allow myself to believe that this time will be different.  I trust.  I believe.  I hope.

All the research, psychology findings, magazine articles, church, family, everyone talks about hope.  Hope helps you navigate challenges.  Hope helps you overcome.  Hope makes you resilient.  But what about when hope hurts?

When hope turns to nope
When joy becomes disappointment.
When promise turns to pain.

Is it better to not let myself hope?  Will it be less painful if I don't let myself believe my miracle is coming?  If I swallow joy, don't let myself feel the hope, the anticipation, wouldn't that be easier, less thorny?  Yes, yes it would be easier.  But would it be better?  To live expecting the worst, resigned to the doldrums, to give in and become impermeable - unable to be hurt or disappointed because I squash desire and expectation?  No.  I cannot live like that.  Brene Brown wrote, "You cannot selectively numb."  To numb myself to pain also means cutting myself off from joy, or hope, or love, or peace.  No, I must have hope.  But how do I keep hope from being dangerous?  How do I keep hope from flying me high, and then sending me crashing to the ground?

For hope to be sure, it has to be anchored in something.  So the question is: what is my hope anchored in?
My hope cannot rest on those two pink lines, for there is no guarantee.
My hope cannot rest on diets, supplements, or exercise (though these are good things).
My hope cannot rest even on my own ability to stay positive in the face of adversity.

My hope must be centered on Christ.  This is not hope that He will give me a baby.  Not hope that He will keep me from having a miscarriage.  Not hope that He will heal my body.  For he can and does do all these things, but my hope rests in who He is.  My hope rests on the knowledge that He is good, so, so good.  My hope rests in the knowledge that he sees all my days from beginning to end.

I'm beginning to understand Job's perspective when he declared, "Though He slay me, yet will I trust Him."  Even when He allows things that hurt, He. Is. Good.  His ways are higher and deeper than mine.  The things I go through do not change who God is or His plans.  He will work all things in my life for His glory.

Please don't take my words as glib and trite. Often times, and even now, "I trust You." and "My hope is in You." come from the deepest, most wretchedly painful part of the soul, carried on a tide of grief and tears. Hope, like joy, can be thorny and scary and painful sometimes.  But if my hope is anchored to the unchanging God, I will not be tossed about.  And my hope in Him is the confident expectation that He is who He says He is, and the confident declaration that "He knows the way that I take, and when He has tested me, I will come forth as gold."  Misplaced hope brings only grief and disappointment, but hope place securely on God and His unfailing love brings peace and secure footing through grief and disappointment.  This hope brings life - with all its warm sunshine and sharp edges - the knowing that He will have His way in me, for my good and His glory.

This is the kind of hope Paul writes about in Romans 5 - the hope that comes out of tribulation.  Hope that comes from faith that has tested and proven the promises of God, hope from the soul who knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that God's character and promises are sure.
"And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance;  and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint" (Romans 5:3-5a)

One More Lesson

Last week was a struggle.  I was moody and emotional.  I ate all the things I wasn’t supposed to.  I had a hard time caring about many things.  I was just kind of blah.  You see, this month, something amazing had happened - I ovulated!  Yay!  I was sure this was our month.  The month I would finally get to see those two blessed pink lines on my pregnancy test I buy in bulk on Amazon (I have issues).  I even (mostly) made myself wait until the correct day to test and everything. And yet, just like the last 5,000 times, one lonely line.  No baby for you, it mocked.

It’s fine.  I mean, I think I knew deep down I wasn’t pregnant anyway. 
I tried to reason with myself.
It’s better it’s not right now anyway; you have travel plans this summer and couldn’t do that with a baby.  Yes, it’s fine.  Really.

But my attitude told a different story.  I was withdrawn and grumpy.  Worse yet, the signal that I really wasn’t pregnant made her arrival the very next morning.  Frustrated and weary, I sat down the next morning to have a chat with God, tell Him about my frustrations.  To tell Him that it’s just not fair, that I’m tired of negative test after negative test.  Tired of eating right if it’s not going to make one bit of difference.  What ended up happening was God having a little chat with me about my attitude.  Because I wasn’t seeking Him for comfort or guidance, or even just to ask why.  I was there, on my knees before the throne of God, to complain. 

After being appropriately humbled, and getting my attitude back on track, my mood changed some, but I was still saddened by the test results, which is to be expected.  When I got home, waiting in the mailbox was a book my aunt had sent me.  Infreakingfertility, by Melanie Dale. 

The book is less advice about how to overcome infertility, and more about coping with it, whatever the route a couple chooses to take.  I set upon reading it immediately. In the opening chapters, Melanie discusses the struggle of infertility with candor and honesty, blended with empathy and sprinkled with a little dark humor.  It is by far the funniest and to date the most helpful book about infertility I have come across.  The more I read, the more I wanted to read.  A few chapters in, the following quote knocked the wind out of me:

“How do you relax when the one thing you want so badly is eluding you month in, month out and you are powerless to make it happen?....I made good grades in school, got into the college where I wanted to go, never really had a major thing that I couldn’t achieve with hard work and diligence.  Until infertility.  I could not work my way out of it.  I could not make myself get pregnant.”  (Melanie Dale, Infreakingfertility)

I stopped.  I read it again.  This!  This is exactly why this struggle is so frustrating!  Why this difficulty is different than anything I’ve faced before. Like Melanie, I’ve always been able to achieve anything I set out to do simply by adding a little elbow grease when the going gets tough.  But infertility is different.  There is nothing I can “work harder” at that will make me get pregnant.  Sure, I can do things that might make it easier.  I can try things that might help.  But there is no guaranteed formula: if I do _______, then I will get pregnant. 

Throughout the remainder of the weekend, this quote, and this idea of control bounced around in the recesses of my mind. Maybe my attitude had taken a turn, slowly, almost imperceptibly, until I was once again faced with another wave of disappointment, crashing against all my hopes and optimism.  With diet, exercise, and trying to do all the right things, I was sure I had it all under control this time.  Somewhere in my mind, I had the formula right; I had done the work and couldn’t lose.  But there is no formula.  There is no way to control whether or not I get pregnant.

 I had to let go. 

What my soul craved was surrender.

And so I prayed.  But this time, it was not in lament, nor complaint.  It was not a prayer of desperation, nor a plea beseeching God for that which I desired.  I asked God to help me let go.  To continue to eat the right food and do the right things, not as a means to control the outcome, but as a pledge to do my very best with what I have in my control, and to release the rest to God’s care and control, where it belonged all along.

And oh, my friends, the freedom!  The freedom of letting go of the things you felt needed to be grasped at all cost.  To relinquish control to the Savior does not leave a feeling of powerlessness, but rather peace and assurance, knowing all that I cannot do is in the hand of the One who mighty and strong, faithful and true.  All these things are infinitely better placed in His capable hands, instead of my feeble ones.

Moving forward, I don’t have all the answers.  I don’t know what is going to happen, or what obstacles are still to come.  But I place all that I don’t know or can’t control in His hands.  And when I purposefully remember to look at the Savior, the wind and waves begin to fade, as I fix my eyes on who He is and all He has done.

Emotions and Truth

“What’s WRONG with me?  Why can’t I get past this?  When am I going to just be ok?”

Over the past two years, I’ve asked God so many times, “God, every time I feel like I’ve grown and gotten to a good place, like maybe You’ve taken away all the pain and tears, suddenly, I’m not ok again and it feels like I’m starting all over. Like all the growth isn’t even there.”

I always thought in my infertility journey that truly trusting God meant that the days of meltdowns, sucker-punch pain, and ugly crying were behind me, that I’d finally be free of overwhelming emotion.  But even with prayer, faithful Scripture reading, and seeking the Lord, - an announcement, a negative test, or just a rogue emotion and I’m flat on my face again.

But God is nothing if not ever-faithful. He showed me the growth:
In my emotions: genuine happiness for my loved one’s pregnancy announcements, 
    where before there was only swift pain and envy
In my heart: longing, desire, and trust, where before bitterness and anger grew wild.

As I’ve prayed and learned and listened to others who have walked and are walking this road I’ve come to recognize something.  In this journey, to be “OK until I’m not OK” is normal.  The rise and fall of the roller coaster is not the result of a lack of faith, but rather what it means to be human - to experience feelings, intense, swift, and often unexpected.

 The growth is not in the emotions themselves, but in my response to those emotions.  They valleys are still there, and they still suck, but though they are still deep, they are not so wide.  When I find myself headed down into the valley, I no longer linger there - wallowing in self pity and anger.  I can allow myself to feel the pain, tell God, “I trust You.  Help me walk with grace and faith.”  Bitterness can only grow where its soil is fertile, and asking God to change the attitude of my heart weeds it out before it can take root.

Sweet sister, whether you walk the same road as I do, or if your struggles and pain look different remember - emotions are not truth.  They just exist.  Acknowledge them, know it is ok to feel, and then give them over to God.  I think that’s part of what it means to “take every thought captive to Christ.” - you can’t control the thoughts and emotions, but the more you have allowed God to conform you to Christ’s image, the more you are empowered to give those intrusive thoughts and emotions over to Him, and allow Him to weed out the bitterness or sinful inclinations as He sits with you in the pain. 
He is there.
He grieves with you.
He restores.
He heals.
He makes all things new.
He is in the process of shaping and remaking your heart.  Choose in those moments, as you are headed down into the valley to give that pain or fear, or longing to Him, and see the beautiful things He makes of it!

“...to bestow on them a crown of beauty
Instead of ashes
The oil of joy
Instead of mourning
And a garment of praise
Instead of a spirit of despair.”
~Isaiah 61:3

THIS  is the kind of God He is.  He is faithful.  He is good.  He makes all things new.  Accept that those overwhelming emotions will still come.  But the growth is found in what we do with them - be swept away trying to handle and overcome by ourselves?  Or rest in His arms as we give them over to He whose “power is made perfect in our weakness”?  Hand it over.  Leave it to Him.  Rest.

"But Even If You Don't..."

        The other night some things got real again in the struggle for a baby. I was pseudo-teasing my husband about how he never seems to want to hold other people’s babies.  In contrast, I have baby radar -  I see a baby, and all I want to do is hold that baby.  But he doesn’t seem to want to as often.  I asked him, “So are you just less of a baby person and more of a kid person?”  He told me, “No, I just want to hold my own baby.”  I was caught off guard - he is usually focused on taking care of my ever-changing emotions, and it was a good reminder that this struggle is one we face as a couple.

Later on, he asked me if I was ok.  I told him I was sorry for being so moody the last few weeks; I’m just feeling sad.  It’s frustrating to see him with kids and see how great he is with them, and not be able to give him his own children.  I feel like my body is betraying both of us, like it is unfair to him that the woman he married is having so much trouble getting pregnant.  I just never thought it would be this hard.

And if that isn’t enough, now, when I think about getting pregnant, I’m filled with fear about miscarriage.  I know the statistics - women with PCOS are highly susceptible to miscarry.  I worry that even when I DO finally fall pregnant, that I won’t be able to feel the joy, for the fear of the possibility of losing the baby.  PCOS has already robbed me of the natural process of conceiving, now it threatens to rob me of the joy I should get to feel in pregnancy.  And what if all I can do is get pregnant, but am never able to carry to term?  I don’t know what would be worse - to never be able to conceive, or to conceive and miscarry, -  to have life in my womb but never know my child.

I know that God is good. I know that God is mighty. I know that He can heal my body, my hormones, my ovaries with a single word if He so desired.  I know he has the power to protect a child He places in my womb if He so chooses.  I also know that He is able to soothe and heal my wounds, and has the power to protect me from depression and a spirit of discouragement.  It’s hard not knowing which path I am going to walk, which circumstances He is going to lead me through - whether paths of joy and healing, or paths through deep waters.  I have no way of knowing if this path of struggle ends with the joy of received healing - like Hannah, like Rachel, like Elizabeth, or if this struggle ends a different way than I expect - like Job. What I do know is that God wants to use my struggle for His glory.  But how?  In what way will He use this pain?  I still struggle to understand HOW He can and will bring good.  I have to wrestle with the dissonance between what God is able to do and what God chooses to do.  Sometimes He may choose to intervene and save His child from the painful path, and sometimes He may ask me to walk the painful road, testing and refining my faith, His purpose in the pain hidden for now.

I think of Corrie ten Boom - held in Ravensbruck concentration camp, under those cruel and inhuman conditions.  Fleas, bitter cold, insufficient food, hard labor, torture - psychological and physical.  At any moment, she could have been spared, God could have made it so she didn’t have to go at all.  And yet, she walked that road - a road filled with suffering and sorrow.  So why?  (Not why does God allow suffering at all - that is another subject, perhaps for another time).  Why does God sometimes allow His children to travel thorny ways?  To experience great grief?  When I stop to consider the life of Corrie ten Boom, it is easy to feel sorry for her, to wish away her experiences. But until the end of her life, Corrie saw only what beauty God brought from her pain.  Her experiences gave her the greatest treasure of her life - closer fellowship with God.  And out of that, countless books, devotionals, motivational speeches - all calling on fellow Christians to fully trust, fully lean on Christ in every moment, every struggle of their lives.  These are just a few of the words of wisdom from her incredible life.

“There is no pit so deep, that God’s love is not deeper still.”

“In order to realize the worth of the anchor we need to feel the stress of the storm.”

“Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God.”

God took her pain, the path He asked her to walk, and asked her to trust Him and not her own understanding, and out of that, He has used her life to encourage and help countless others in their moments of need.  He is “the God who comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”  He has a purpose for each circumstance He allows us to walk through, even if we cannot yet see it ourselves.  I’ll let Corrie take it from here:

The Weaving

“My life is but a weaving

Between my God and me

I cannot choose the colors

He weaveth steadily

Oft times He weaveth sorrow

And I in foolish pride

Forget He sees the upper

And I the underside

Not til the loom is silent

And the shuttles cease to fly

Will God unroll the canvas

And reveal the reason why

The dark threads are as needful

In the weaver’s skillful hands

As the threads of gold and silver

In the pattern He has planned

He knows, He loves, He cares

Nothing this truth can dim

He gives the very best to those

Who leave the choice to Him.”

In it all, I continue to hope for healing and a joyous end - a baby in my arms, fruit of my womb.  I must learn to walk the road, knowing it is ok to feel pain - to weep, to cry out, to experience sadness.  I must learn to walk the road and not let pain become bitterness, or surrender become apathy  I don’t know how to walk this path, how to deal with the future hills and valleys.  Oh God, I need strength - sufficient for each new day, to walk the road set before me each morning, to trust in You with all my heart, and lean not on my own understanding.  I know You are supremely worth knowing, and the my hope is in You no matter my circumstance.  No pain will cause me to mistrust Your love, no darkness too deep to cause me to cease seeking Your face.

“I know You’re able and I know You can

Save through the fire with Your mighty hand

But even if You don’t

My hope is You alone.

I know the sorrow and I know the hurt 

Would all go away if You just say the word

But even if You don’t

My hope is You alone.”

I'd Do Anything

"I'd do ANYTHING.  


ANY. THING.


Whatever it takes, I'll do it."

So goes my inner dialogue whenever I think about being a mother.  I'd do ANYTHING to be able to get pregnant.

For those of you who have been following my journey, you know that my husband and I have been trying to start a family for about 2 years now, to no avail.  In February, I finally went to see my doctor about it.  Long story short, she diagnosed me with Poly-Cystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS).  PCOS is a condition which affects a woman's hormone levels, causing her to produce too much testosterone and androgens, and too little estrogen and progesterone.  This, in turn, causes excessive hair growth, irregular or stopped periods, acne, ovarian cysts, weight gain, insulin resistance, depression, anxiety and other fun and exciting symptoms.

While the diagnosis probably should have dealt a crushing blow, I instead found myself relieved.  Relieved because the diagnosis validated all I am dealing with.  I'm not just crazy - there is something wrong with my body.  It has a name, it has predictable symptoms, and it can be treated!  That is not to say it isn't complicated. My doctor gave me some medication to help, but I began to research PCOS and how to treat it naturally.

A fellow PCOS cyst-er directed me to www.smartfertilitychoices.com, run by Kym Campbell.  There I found a wealth of information about PCOS and it's relation to diet and exercise.  While researching, it became clear that getting pregnant would require a major lifestyle change.  Kym runs a 30 day challenge, wherein she provides recipies, tips, and other encouragement to change your eating.  To summarize - I am now off sugar, gluten, white carbs, dairy, and excess caffeine.  For this coffee-loving, cheese-on-top-of-everything chocoholic, that was a HUGE blow!  As I started to follow the dietary guidelines, I noticed distinct differences between when I ate right (energy, decreased symptomes, weight loss) and when I ate whatever I wanted to (nausea, lethargy, more acne, bloating).

However, even with these changes, I was still unwilling to give up cheese, my 2nd -5th cups of coffee, and some sugars.  I told myself, "Well, I'm eating some of the right things; I just can't give up _________."

A few days ago, after yet another negative pregnancy test, I sighed once more, "I'd do anything to be pregnant."  All at once I remembered my unwillingness to give up some of my favorite foods.

 Anything?

Knocked off my feet, I considered - in 10 years, do I want to look back and think, "Well, I never had kids, but at least I got to eat cheese and drink sugary coffee."?  And here is where discipline begins - what do I want MOST?  The instant gratification - that chocolate, that ice cream - or am I willing to put in the work toward being able to have a child - something I've dreamed about ever since I can remember?

And it was in this paradigm shift, I began to see a theme in life.  How often do we, as Christians, say "I'd do ANYTHING for You, Lord!  I'd give ANYthing to know You and follow You" - only be unwilling to give up the things standing in the way?  And often, it is not grand gestures God requires (selling your house and moving to Africa, etc) but rather those everyday habits and things we enjoy.  Maybe it's giving up a weeknight for that church ministry, ceasing to watch that show or listen to that music that makes your walk with the Lord difficult, or takes your thoughts places they shouldn't go.  Maybe it's giving up that weekly coffee in order to tithe, or waking up a little earlier to spend time in prayer and the Word.  He requires different things from all of us.  In my own life, it is most often the little things where I have the most difficulty faithfully following.

It is said "discipline is deciding between what you want most, and what you want right now."  As I consider my life, what I want most is fellowship with the Lord and to be able to get pregnant. (In that order).  And if those things are truly what I want most, then the discipline and sacrifice will all be worthwhile.  And while there is a chance that even if I eat perfectly and do all the right things for PCOS there is no guarantee I will be able to have a baby, I know that if I am willing to practice those small disciplines the Lord asks of me,  it WILL bring me closer to Him, and allow me to know Him more deeply.  If I am willing to make sacrifices and changes for something for which there is no guarantee, how much more should I be willing to do what my Lord asks for the certainty of Him?

So, what is it in your life that finds you saying,"I'd do ANYTHING for ___________!"  What changes do you need to make in order to have that?  Are you willing to undergo the necessary discipline and trade momentary satisfaction for something lasting?

Are you willing to ask the Lord to look into your life and begin the pruning process? Are you willing do undergo His discipline as He begins to chisel away all that does not conform to Christ?

Note: One of the most important parts of this new diet and lifestyle is accountability - someone to remind me when I'm tempted about what I want most.  It is the same with the Christian life.  Find someone who knows what changes you are trying to make, what things God is asking of you, to help keep you on track.  We often cannot make lasting change without community.

Blessings as you begin or continue the discipline process! (And if you see me about to eat too much cheese - remind me that it's less important that a baby! ;)  )