That Magical Day

From the time some little girls realize that boys don’t actually have cooties, they start dreaming of their wedding day.

It’s a magical day where they get to be the princess and everyone waits hand and foot on them.  Beautiful dress.  Gorgeous shoes.  Amazing Flowers.  And of course, Prince Charming.

They get to pick their favorite colors and flowers and people to create a fantasy moment.  I know, for some, simple is perfect.  And for others, extravagant isn’t enough.

But for me – I was somewhere right in between.

I still remember as a young girl (in fact, I’m certain I have pictures SOMEWHERE but I’ll probably never see them again) being decked out in a wedding gown that was far too big for me and having a mock wedding, with a little boy whose mother was my mother’s best friend.  I’m certain I was just as bossy possessed just as many leadership skills then as I do now.

Somewhere along the way, that dream day became just that – a dream.  I started focusing more on a career and less on finding Mr. Right.  Boy, am I glad that God had other plans for me.

Our wedding wasn’t quite as big as I thought it was going to be.  If I’m being honest, there’s a few things I’d change about it.  But there is ONE THING I am absolutely, positively sure of.  And that’s my husband.

It hasn’t always felt that way.  We have our moments where I’d really just rather he leave me alone – forever.  He knows EXACTLY what buttons to push and I’d love nothing less than to physically harm him in some way.  (Relax.  I never would.  I don’t think.)  And I’m sure he’s thought the EXACT same about me!

The one thing about my dream day that had always remained the same was that I knew how I wanted it to look.  I had ALWAYS wanted everything to be black and white – with only red roses.  And I wanted an evening wedding with twinkle lights and candles.  It really did turn out BEAUTIFUL!

 

 

 

 

 

We picked out ALL of our own music.  J even remixed a song for our walk down the aisle as a married couple.  It started as the Wedding March, and then faded into ….. Ready for this?  “Another One Bites The Dust”.  Yup.  We were that couple.  I loved hearing the shocked gasps turn into laughter as people realized that it wasn’t just the music messing up, but rather us expressing our personalities the best way we knew how.

One of my very good friends from high school was the photographer.  We have some AMAZING pictures from the wedding.

I had so many people tell me “Make SURE you video record the ceremony!!  Everything will go so fast that you won’t remember it and you will want to see it someday!!”  So, I checked many different places out.  In the end, I was convinced to let some very long-time family friends record it for us.  We’ve known them forever, what could go wrong?

Imagine my disappointment as we fast-forward (see what I did there?) two and a half years later and not only am I still without a wedding video but FINALLY received a response to my multiple requests stating that they don’t even own the camera anymore and that the video was on the internal memory and never saved to a disc……….  That’s earth-shattering stuff to me.  I’ve been sick to my stomach all day.

You know how when someone loses one of their senses, all of their other senses are heightened?  I kind of feel like that’s what infertility has been for me.

It’s a loss.  A devastating, emotional, heartbreaking, everyday loss.  That reminds me that life is precious.

While longing for what I don’t have and mourning it, it reminds me to look at what I DO have and be grateful for it.

While our friends and families attended the wedding (of which I have no recording),  we are attending the marriage.

He still dances with me in the kitchen while I’m cooking dinner.

He still looks at me sometimes like I’m the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

He still tells me he loves me at the most random moments of the day.

He still makes me laugh at some of the most inappropriate moments.

So while we may have empty arms, we have full hearts.  And it all started on that magical day.

Happy Birthday!!

Today is my husband’s birthday.  He is officially only one year younger than me for three whole months!  I wouldn’t say I “robbed the cradle” but he sure makes it seem like I’m at least a decade older than he!  I’m grateful for him every day, but birthdays were created to celebrate people.  As we get older, birthdays become less about presents and cake and candles and more about family and experiences and who we’ve become.

My husband is a man of character – of Integrity.  He knows who he is an doesn’t feel the need to apologize for it.  He’s strong, capable, funny, smarter than he realizes, incredibly handsome – and he’s ALL MINE.  He chose me.  Of all the women in the world, I was the one that was lucky enough to catch his eye long enough to convince his heart.  He loves me for who I am and often who I am not.  He loves me for the things I can give him and in spite of the things I can’t…

I will forever be grateful to his parents for teaching him the difference between right and wrong and the conviction to stand up for it no matter what.  I’m grateful for the example they set for him in their marriage, and that I can be confident in the fact that when he vowed to love me forever – he meant it.

I love you, Mister.  Happy Birthday!!

MORE than Enough

As I sit on my patio this morning enjoying my coffee while the cool breeze of Fall blows around me, I realize – another year has come and gone. Our arms are still empty and aching, but our hearts – those are full. Life certainly has a way of never going just the way you planned it. Oftentimes, that’s a good thing. Other times? It can leave you wondering & imagining a million reasons why.

Friday, September the 6th, our 3rd IUI failed. I remember just a day before feeling that maybe, JUST maybe, it had actually worked! I even did something I don’t do after feeling the loss of miscarriage – I told a friend that I was hopeful. When, once again, that red flagged waved and a visitor I have grown to resent wholeheartedly came to town, I broke – again. I felt like my body had betrayed me, and my feelings had been in on it this time. Such a roller coaster, this journey of infertility. Very high high’s and extremely low low’s… often felt in the same moment. There’s no way to perfectly describe it to anyone that hasn’t been there and it’s nothing you want anyone TO understand. As I messaged back and forth with my husband about the tears that wouldn’t stop and the pain that spilled over no matter how hard I fought, I told him I was tired. Tired of trying. Tired of hurting him, tired of hurting me, tired of hurting everyone we loved. But I told him that even with how bad it hurt, I didn’t want to give up. His loving, patient response was that maybe it was time to “go a different way.” He told me that while he knew I wanted to be pregnant that maybe there was a child out there that needed US.

My husband is one of the biggest blessings in my life. I know I don’t say it enough. My sister and I were talking the other day about how the way we were raised has affected us and our marriages. Affection, touch – those things weren’t abundant to us as children. Not because our parents didn’t love us – of that there’s no doubt – but I think sometimes the rational need to provide overtakes the parental desire to nurture.

When I first met my husband, to say I didn’t like him is putting it mildly! I still recall a specific situation at work that drove me straight into the store manager’s office to tell them that I thought he should be fired. Being delicate is NOT my husband’s forte. Many tears have been shed as a result of my husband voicing his opinion – including mine. People thought I was CRAZY for dating – and then marrying – him. Ever wonder why someone is digging for gold in that rocky, dark, damp place? It’s because they just KNOW that if they spend enough time and dig deep enough, that an AMAZING treasure is going to be found. That’s my husband. He still surprises me almost every day. The support I get from him through this is unmatched. He’s my rock. I can see how badly this hurts him also… because I’m hurting and because I think he’s realized how much he wants it also. We’ve both learned so much through all of this, but what I’ve learned is that the people with the toughest exterior, usually have the softest interior – it’s just a matter of getting to it.

My husband and I have decided that we are going to begin looking in to – and embarking on – the adoption journey. In my search of things to keep my mind occupied – since this is the first month in a few that I’ve not had Dr’s appts & ultrasounds & pills & injections – I went to the Christian bookstore and began searching out books about adoption and infertility. A friend that works at Lifeway helped me find a book titled “Dear God, Why Can’t I Have a Baby?”. As I was reading through the Foreword by Drew Cline, a Christian Recording Artist, he gives his “Testimony of Hope” in reliving their infertility journey and at one point (after two failed attempts at IUI) says to his wife – ” ‘This should be done at home where we can love on each other in the privacy of our own home and marriage, not in some clinical test tube. Does God not think we’ll make good parents?’ To which my precious wife responded, ‘It takes more love to walk through this process, more sacrifice, more commitment.’ ” So. Much. Truth. I’m trying to get through this book. There is so much awesome stuff in it, but I seem to have trouble seeing the words as I read it.

Yesterday, I had a painful procedure done that crossed one more thing off the list of “Reasons Why We Can’t Have a Baby.” It’s nice to be able to eliminate reasons, but that just means we get one step closer to not having any reasons. I’ve resolved myself to give up the right to understand on a daily basis. I’ve said it before, I’ll say it many more times I’m sure, but it so perfectly describes everything in just two short words – God knows. God knows if we are ever going to have a baby that will look at me through my husband’s eyes. God knows if we will ever have a baby that will fulfill my mother’s curse of “having a daughter just like me.” God knows if we will adopt a baby that needed US as parents. God knows if we are going to have empty cribs but full memory banks. God knows. And while I’ve said that’s enough for me, I’m learning to let it be MORE than enough.