The Weight of Words

I am currently reading Ann Weisgarber's novel, The Promise. It is an historical novel taking place in Galveston, TX in the year 1900, the year of the Great Storm that destroyed most of the island. It is a story about a woman who leaves her home in Ohio for Galveston, not under ideal circumstances, to marry a man from her past whose wife has passed away from Malaria leaving him to care for their 5 year old son. In the novel, a woman named Nan Ogden keeps the home of the widower and looks after him and the boy. Much of the story surrounds the tense relationship between the protagonist and Miss Ogden. Their relationship is strained and unfriendly, but complex in that each of them understands the heart of the other woman and takes measures to uphold the dignity of the other more than once.

At one point in the novel, the protagonist realizes that Nan Ogden has desires in her heart that cannot be obtained. She recognizes the suffering in the other woman's eyes and begins to speak to assuage her pain. However, Miss Ogden interrupts cutting her off. It is then, that the protagonists understands, "Some things cannot bear the weight of words."

This line struck me as being such an obvious truth yet one that few people recognize. During our struggle to have a child, I often remarked on the words people would say and their "helpful" ways of speaking to try to fix pain that nothing could heal but time. One of the most important lessons I learned throughout our ordeal was that when someone is suffering, the best way to help them is to listen rather than speak. Words, so often, not only fall short, but end up rubbing the proverbial salt in an open and tender wound. I have learned to speak little in those instances that someone comes to me to talk about their pain.

It is often that I find myself struggling for words to write in a sympathy note when someone I know has lost a loved one. Especially after going suffering losses of my own, words never seem sufficient as I know that they will not only do no good, but could also have the potential to do more harm. I like Weisgarber's wisely and simply constructed statement that some things simply cannot bear the weight of words. It says, I understand. I am sorry. And I give you permission to feel your pain.

She asks ....

"Has God forgotten me," she asks.

I think how to answer this as I gaze at the toys strewn across my living room floor.

No, I think. He has not forgotten you. But it is not an answer I can give her. Because no matter how I answer this, she will feel forsaken.

There was a time when I felt her same desperation, hopelessness, invisibility, isolation, and unimportance. There was a time when I asked the very same question. And I must remember that now. Instead I tell her, "I am so very very sorry." It is all I can say, and the words seem so inadequate.

All I can do is all I have ever done. Ask God to please spare her any more pain. Hasn't she suffered enough? How many more tests can she endure? How much more can she give? How much pain can she stand? How tired can her body be? How occupied her mind? Please, please, hear my prayer. She is good. She is kind. She is giving. She loves. Don't break her. Don't take away the Hope and Innocence she has left. Don't strip her of the shred of dignity she maintains.

Hear her prayer. Heal her heart. Let her love. Fill her up. Soothe her pain.

I gaze again upon the beautiful mess of my home. With a small acknowledgement of thanks, I remember that her mess will come soon. I am humbled. I am reminded. I am her Hope when she has none left. I will continue to Hope for her. Lift her up. Remind her of her strength when she feels that she has none.

You are strong, my dear. You are blessed, my love. You are not forgotten, my sweet.

It is all I can do. And it is so little.

A Word of Hope for a Friend in Need

Although I wrote this to a specific friend, in writing it, I couldn't help but feel that it was directed at everyone I know who is suffering. Getting word from this friend today that she suffered an unsuccessful fertility treatment, starting her period one day before her blood test (life can be so cruel), I was immediately taken back to the times Casey and I suffered such a blow as hers and the devastation, hopelessness, and complete and utter sorrow that was all-consuming. I sent her this message but wanted to share it here as well. To anyone suffering from Infertility and feeling desperate, hopeless, and sad: I hope my words can be of some slight comfort to you. My heart is with you ....



I want you to know that my heart is with your heart right now. I can feel the devastation and hopelessness that you are feeling and wish beyond words that I could, in some small way, lessen the burden.



I know, because I have been in your shoes, that there is nothing anyone can say to you today that will make you feel better or less sad. And it is unfair to try to make you feel less sad. Feeling sad and crying is the most natural way to find relief from your pain, so cry all you need to. Please know that even though you are where you are and I am where I am, I am feeling your pain along with you. And I hope you can feel that in sharing your story and your pain with me, that your load is a little lighter.



You are a sweet, kind, caring and loving person, and I know the universe has beautiful things in store for you. It is part of being human to not be able to understand why things happen. I know you ask yourself why almost on a daily basis. I hope you find some answer to your question. When I was suffering miscarriage after miscarriage and having month after month with no results, there were people in my life who hoped for me because I felt like I had no hope left.



I want you to know that I am one of those people who will never ever lose hope for you. So even when you feel like you can't keep going and like you have nothing else to give. I'll be here to Hope for you and to lift you up and help carry you through this. I will cry with you, laugh with you, and celebrate with you WHEN the day comes. Our hearts are one in the same, love.



Take good care of yourself today and in the coming days. Do kind things for yourself.



Lots of love to you. I am always here.

RESOLVE to know more ...

RESOLVE to know more about the heart of an infertile woman.

This blog began as a therapeutic outlet for me as I struggled to become pregnant.  I have always journaled, so why a blog for this purpose?  Why make such intimate and personal thoughts and feelings so public?  Very early on in my struggle with infertility, I realized an innate need to be understood by others.  Infertility can be one of the most heart-wrenching and isolating experiences a person faces.  In the beginning of my struggle, I felt this isolation immensely.  I began isolating myself from friends and family and eventually from those who were the closest to me.  Perhaps by beginning to lay my emotions out on the line, via this blog, I was making a last-ditch effort to connect with others. 

Unintentionally, this blog became my saving grace.  I found that, when faced with the gut-wrenching and inevitable questions, "When are you going to have a baby?" I could direct the inquirer to my blog.  It gave me an answer!  Before this blog, I never had an answer to that question because ... well.... I didn't know when I was going to have a baby or even if I was going to have a baby.  It could be humiliating and awkward for all parties involved for me to try to fumble through an explanation for why I had not become pregnant, so being able to say, "Well, I am working on that.  You should check out my blog, it is really interesting!" was a life-saver and made that question so much easier to face. 

It also gave me the ability to hold people accountable for what I considered their lack of knowledge and insensitivity because of it.  After one particularly distressing encounter with yet another Fertile Relative, I inconsolably wept to my husband, lamenting people's lack of compassion to such a sensitive subject.  My husband, ever the optimist and giver of endless benefits of the doubt, reminded me that "People just don't know about our situation, and if they did, chances are they wouldn't ask."  Lightbulb!  He was EXACTLY right.  People didn't know.  And I was holding them accountable for actions they were taking without knowledge.  Being a librarian and knowledge-lover, I realized that if I educated people - about my situation and about infertility in general - then I could begin holding them accountable for their actions and words.  As an infertile woman, my first reaction to my situation was anger.  I had to find a way to react differently or I risked pushing away every person in my life.  Accountability was the key.  I soon realized, though, that once I did begin informing people about infertility and about what I was struggling with, I no longer needed to hold them accountable because people, for the most part, became much more understanding and compassionate.  I feel that I have made a small impact in informing those around me about infertility.  And giving them insight into the heart of an infertile person - the joy, trauma, sadness, excitement, hope, and despair that lives there.

I learned that speaking out and giving information, without anger, helped not only me but helped other infertile couples.  Before long, friends were telling their friends about my blog because they were also struggling with infertility.  My blog then became a place of solace.  This, perhaps, has been it's greatest and most important achievement.  Many women have gone to my blog or contacted me because they are struggling with infertility or are about to embark on a fertility journey.  My blog serves as a place for them to get information about what they should expect as well as a place to laugh and cry along with someone who has been in their shoes.  I can only hope that my blog has made an impact, in some small way, to console and comfort the hearts of those who are suffering.  It's title came from my favorite book and poetically sums up the heart of the blog and the heart of women everywhere whether or not they suffer with infertility.  We all bear great strength and suffer great hurts.  We never know how strong we are until we are faced with the unthinkable.  We do not realize we are being strong as we cry and doubt our way through our challenges.  We seldom give ourselves credit for being amazing because we were just doing what we had to do.  But women who suffer from infertility are Strong.  They are Warriors in the face of the unthinkable.  Their tears and doubts make FERTILE the ground that lies before them whatever that may be.  And they are Amazing in their ability to keep forging ahead just because another day comes.  This blog is dedicated to all of the women whose hearts are a ladle of Sweet Water Brimming Over. 

http://www.resolve.org/infertility101  (Basic understanding of the disease of infertility.)

http://www.resolve.org/national-infertility-awareness-week/about.html (About NIAW)

Long time no see .....

My goodness, it's been awhile since I've updated! I know some have been wondering and asking me to update.  There has just been so much going on that I haven't even known where to begin.

First off, I should say that Silas Daniel Schmidt was born on January 3rd, 2014 weighing 8 lbs 6 oz.  We feel so extremely blessed to have him here, and he is already changing our lives so much!

Studio Ainsley Photography

I really don't even know how to begin to write this post.  There is so much to say and very little of it can be captured in words.  It is absolutely unimaginable that the fear we lived with for 5 years that we would never have a child is gone.  We don't have to be afraid of that anymore.  Sometimes when I look at Silas I can't believe he is mine.  I look at him and it feels like he is someone else's child that I am borrowing.  My heart won't even let me fully feel that he is mine.  I think if it did it would just shatter into a million tiny pieces.  The reality of it is too much to come all at once.  It is coming little by little, and I think I am a little grateful for that because it has the potential to break me.

Silas's birth was completely surreal and still feels like a blur.  The one thing that remains clear from that day was the moment the Dr. gave him to me and we looked at each other for the first time.  This runs the risk of sounding like the most cliche statement of all time, but it is completely true.  When that child looked at me and I looked at him, his eyes were so very clear and focused.  It was like he looked right into the depth of my soul and recognized all that I was feeling.  I have always said that right when babies are born, it seems like they hold so much wisdom and know things that we, adults, have yet to learn.  I think we are born knowing the answers to those existential questions, and as we grow, we forget.  I saw those answers in his eyes, and it felt, just for a moment, like he was sent here to care for me rather than me for him.

The reason I am sharing this is because in my heart, I hold dear strangers and friends who I know are still suffering from infertility and my goal for this blog is still to give comfort and hope them.  While we were still trying to get pregnant, I comforted myself by thinking that our child was just still trying to find us.  And when I first saw Silas, I knew this was true.  He knew me.  And it seemed that he always had.  The satisfied look on his little face told me, "I finally found you.  And you me."

I never in my wildest dreams thought that when we started on our painful journey through infertility that we would have a chance to meet so many amazing people because of our struggles.  We have been blessed with so many friends, new and old, simply because of infertility.  We have formed bonds and relationships with complete strangers, and we have become closer to existing friends only because we shared similar desires, pain, and fears.  How can something that allows you to get to know people on a deep level and form lasting friendships, be a bad thing?  Even though the pain, sometimes, seems unbearable ... so many good things have come our of our struggle and I am so grateful for it.  Sometimes you just have no choice but to find the silver lining, and Casey and I were fortunate enough to find several silver linings!  If you are reading this, chances are you are one of them.  If you are reading this and struggling with infertility, please know that we share your pain and in sharing pain, the burden becomes just a tiny bit lighter.  If you are reading this and were a family member or friend who supported us through our journey to have Silas, please accept our absolute deepest thanks.  We can't even begin to use words to thank you.  That kind of thanks can only be spoken from one heart to another.

I want to continue this blog, but I do not want it to turn into a "parenting blog."  Although, I am relishing my time as a Mommy to Silas .... my purpose for this space is to uplift and support people who have and are feeling the familiar pain of wanting a baby.  I want this to be a place of solace and hope for them.  So that is what it will remain.  I will, of course, keep you updated on Silas, but my purpose will be provide hope and support.  To the couples I know currently still on their infertility journey, may your journey be blessed with understanding, patience, comfort and love from those around you.  You have it from me.... I hope you can feel it.

Mindfulness at Panera .....

Okay, so I know this blog is supposed to be about my journey through fertility challenges and pregnancy; however,  a lot of what I discuss on this blog has to do with Mindfulness.  Throughout my journey and challenges, I began to read a lot about Mindfulness as a practice for easing stress, simplifying life, recognizing the mind-body connection, and healing one's self through mindful thinking and awareness. 

I try to practice mindfulness in every aspect of my life and sometimes it is more difficult than others.  But I think the most important place to take a mindful approach is when dealing with others.  We've all seen the quote that says, "Be Kind; Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle."  I try to live by this.  Of course, we all have our moments, but I witnessed something today while grabbing dinner at Panera Bread that really made me want to shout this quote from the rooftops. 

I am standing in line behind a middle aged, Caucasian man who is placing his order with the young girl behind the counter.  I notice that he is speaking to her in a very loud and very condescending way.  The only word I can use to describe him based on the way he was treating her is "bully."  When he was finished placing his order, I moved up in line and proceeded to place mine.  I then stood near him as we both waited for our to-go orders to be filled.  As they called his number, he became aggressive with the young man helping him who handed him his food and began berating the poor girl again who had apparently entered his order incorrectly.  He said loudly (too loudly for the restaurant atmosphere), "I don't think she knows what she is doing." 

I wanted so badly to tell him that the way he treated her and his assumption that she didn't know what she was doing led to a self-fulfilling prophecy of her getting his order wrong.  Did he stop to think that the way he spoke to her may have made her so on-edge and nervous that she was unable to concentrate on entering the order correctly?  She entered mine perfectly fine after I spoke with her in a calm and considerate tone.  As I stood behind him, listening to him berate the staff, who for young people, reacted professionally and courteously might I add, I wanted to tell him that "Perhaps if we stop antagonizing the staff, they will be able to straighten the order out and we can be on our way."  It bothered me that this bully would speak to these young people this way who had done nothing but make an honest mistake.  Had the bullying gone any further, I probably would have stood up for them and spoken up to the man.  Fortunately for all of his, he stopped speaking and resorted to stomping and sighing around, pitching a fit like a 5 year old child would if someone took away his birthday. 

I left the restaurant giving the girl an encouraging *wink* and thanking her again for her help.  As I got in my car still mulling over this grown man's behavior, it HIT me.  "Be Kind; Everyone is fighting a hard battle."  Although, I would have liked to thump this man over the head with my soft, warm baguette for acting ridiculously, I have to be mindful and ask myself.... "I wonder what his battle is that makes him behave this way."  This is difficult to do.  But it is the mindful way.  I will, of course, never have an answer ... but it does help to think of him from this perspective and offer him compassion instead of the knuckle-sandwich I was considering.  Maybe he is just a bully, but someone or something made him that way.  So I'll end with this .... my attempt at mindfulness when someone just really ticks me off .... an Old Southern expression that says so much by saying so little .... Bless His Heart. 

Welcome to the Third Trimester!

Good Monday Morning, Folks!

With the arrival of Fall (my favorite time of year) comes the arrival of the THIRD TRIMESTER!!  How is it possible that only months ago, we had no idea if we were ever going to have children, and now we find ourselves nearing the END of this pregnancy!

Here is me and Silas at 27 weeks .... That red thing used to be a dress. :)

It is beyond belief for both of us, I think.

Casey has been hard at work on Silas's room.  He has ripped our carpet, stained the concrete floor, painted, and put up that wainscoting all on his own.  He doesn't know it, but I noticed a difference in the way he handled this project differently than any other home improvement project we've done.  He took painstaking time and effort to perfect this room.  It was so sweet to watch.  And he's done a wonderful job!  I can't believe we actually got to start on a nursery this time much less finish it and put a CRIB in there.  The sight of a crib, ready and waiting, at OUR house is beyond words.  We are so thankful for that sight.  Last night Casey told me, "Let's go in the baby room."  I said, "Ok" even though I had no idea what we'd do in there.  So we just stood there and looked around.  It was a moment.  It feels like Silas was always meant to be here.  To me, it doesn't feel like the arrival of a new person ... it feels more like the return of someone who was always supposed to be here and who we've missed so much!  I know he'll fit right into our family.

Here's a sneak peek of his room:

His room is such a peaceful place, and I hope he thinks so too.  A good friend, Kristi Scott, is working on some things for the room. and we cannot wait to see what her creative mind has come up with.  She has been such a supportive friend throughout our ordeal, and it'll mean so much to one day tell Silas his "Aunt Kristi" decorated his room. :)  

This week, we have two friends who had an INCREDIBLY SUCCESSFUL egg retrieval and are now looking forward to another attempt at a transfer.  We are praying for them and their success!  I have another friend who is just beginning her Fertility Journey.  As I look back at ours and know the feelings they are feeling right now, I am sending them love directly from my heart and praying not that they have strength because they already do ... but that they RECOGNIZE the strength that they do have and go forward bravely, peacefully, and confident in the blessing it is to be female and have the ability to endure considerable pain while smiling their beautiful smiles to the world.  Somewhere our there.... those babies' souls are peacefully watching you and waiting for just the right time to take their rightful place in your families.  I'm thinking of you every day.  

I recently made a Lullaby Station on my Pandora so that I can put headphones on my tummy for Silas to hear.  One of my favorite songs that plays on there is "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri.  It speaks to the purpose of this blog post:  Bravery, Fear, Doubt, Relief, and the arrival of the One who was always meant to be there for you to love.  Please enjoy!