Rocking Chair Revisited

It's almost seven thirty when I rush upstairs to the drawer full of pajamas. I'm behind. It's late. Bath time, then a story and a song, hugs and sloppy toddler kisses, and then I'll clean up the kitchen quick and hopefully the baby won't need to nurse just yet...

And in the middle of the routine checklist of my thoughts, I notice it.

It's covered, at the moment; several toddler sized button up shirts that I need to hang and put in the closet are draped over the back, and there's a toy tractor tossed on the seat. Wedged up against an armrest is a book - "Big Bulldozer!" embossed across the front. (I've got that bulldozer book memorized.)

It's the rocking chair.

Motherhood: Wrecking and Recreating Me in the Best Ways {Guest Post}

I'm excited to welcome back Natalie Brenner as a guest poster again today. Natalie is a fellow sister in the infertility struggle, victorious through Jesus. Welcome back, Natalie, we're glad to have you!

When she placed him in my arms, my whole body released a tension I didn’t realize it carried and simultaneously grew a necessary wound in my heart.

The gravity of a tiny life—which wasn’t tiny at all—shifted my whole world, changing me.

I breathed in his sweetness, only to exhale a gripping understanding of the sacred moments I was living.

There in the hospital we existed in complete complexity: immense and unexplainable joy crashing right into immeasurable grief and tragedy.

I could have never prepared for the sacred weight those moments held: his first mama placing him into my arms to become his mama.

Those moments changed me. Those moments of her deeming me worthy to be mother to her son changed me in ways difficult to process.

As I transitioned from childless and waiting to full arms and full heart...so much of myself changed.

Or maybe I simply became more of who I was created to be.

Either way, He has been using motherhood to transform me by placing a magnifying glass over my greatest weaknesses and strengths.

As she handed her son to me, making me mama, I stepped further into who He created me to be.

A confidence I hadn’t yet experienced bubbled up inside of me as I grabbed ahold of the commitment to protect, serve, and raise my new son with everything I had.This confidence created in me a bold courage I didn’t otherwise have.

Simultaneously a humility laid into me, bringing to focus the reality that I had so much to learn and so far to grow. A humility reminding me continuously that he is hers in a way he’ll never be mine, and vice versa. A humility reminding me there are so many hurt humans walking around due to their parents lack of humility...and I was not about to step into parenthood thinking I knew it all.




Becoming a mom has made me both more fierce and more gentle.

Motherhood has been teaching me the importance of courage and bravery, even when unpopular and uncomfortable. Motherhood has been teaching me the importance of sitting on my hands and listening to other’s experiences without trying to teach in return. Motherhood has been teaching me both speaking up and quieting down, honesty and grace infused in every piece.

Becoming a mama has changed me by inching me further along in my process of becoming more like Him. It is sanctifying in all the hardest ways, demanding my self-control and patience, demanding I set aside idols and ideals and control.

I’ve only been at this mama-thing for just shy of 19 months. By the grace of Jesus, I have two one year olds. Mothering has stretched me thin and also built me up. It has taught me patience and endurance. It has cracked my heart wide open in the best ways possible and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.



Before I was made mama, I thought motherhood would be hard...but I also thought it would be a delight.

It is. It is such a delight and such a gift and something I do my best not to take for granted.

Becoming a mom has changed me and wrecked me and broken me and is recreating me...and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

NATALIE BRENNER is wife to Loren and mom to two under two. She authored This Undeserved Life: Uncovering the gifts of grief and fullness of life which will be released September 18. She likes her wine red, ice cream served by the pint, and conversations vulnerable.

Natalie believes in the impossible and hopes to create safe spaces for every fractured soul. You can love Jesus or not, go to church or not: she'd love to have coffee with you. Natalie is a bookworm, a speaker, and a wanna-be runner. Connect with her at NatalieBrennerWrites.com and join her popular email list.

Preorder her book, email her “I preordered,” and receive pretty prints: This Undeserved Life
Facebook Community
Instagram
Website
Twitter
Free ebooks [grief guide + fundraising guide]

DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging habit, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. You may see a full disclosure by clicking on my "About" page. I will only promote products that I use, enjoy, or take a shine to. All opinions and reviews are my own and are not influenced by any compensation I may receive.

He Is with Me + He Is Trustworthy {Guest Post}

I'm honored to share my little space here today with Natalie Brenner, a fellow sister in the infertility struggle, victorious through Jesus. I asked her how her journey of infertility and loss shaped her faith and her understanding of who God is, and I know you'll love her thoughts just as much as I do. 

I’ve always been a Jesus girl.

In middle school I had a crush on Ethan Souers and he wrote me a little note saying I was the most Christian-girl he’d ever known. My heart swooned and I was sure I’d marry him.

I didn’t marry him but I did carry around his flattering compliment. I carried it with me as a reminder that people notice when we have great faith, people see when we genuinely love Jesus, even when we aren’t trying to put on a show. I simply loved Jesus and wanted to love other people like Him, even in my flawed, awkward, middle school stage of life.

He was with me when my parents yelled and fought, I knew He’d be with me forever. He deemed Himself trustworthy to me at a young age.

What Surprised Me Most about Motherhood {Guest Post}

Lisa Newton has been a great support to me, and to a lot of other sisters in the infertility struggle, I'm sure. Her blog and her friendship have been mainstays in my journey through infertility for years, and I'm honored to have her here today to share with us! I asked Lisa to tell me about what surprised her most about becoming a mother, and I'm sure you'll enjoy what she had to say. 

Pregnancy After Infertility

Pregnancy after years of infertility is hard.

It's complicated in ways that I didn't expect. While lots of newly pregnant ladies are busy looking up bassinets and bonnets, I spend much more time researching potential issues and learning how to do injections. Financially, emotionally, physically... being pregnant after dealing with infertility is just different.

Granted, we've been very, very blessed with a healthy and easy pregnancy so far- I'm sure that many of my formerly infertile sisters could add many things to this list that I've been fortunate enough not to experience- but I've found that so far, the biggest differences are medical stuff, fear, jealousy, and guilt.

Come to the Table: The Invitation

Original Image used with permission- thanks to The Accidental Nomad

I'm sitting at a barely big enough kitchen table, the toddler determined to get herself into precarious situations climbing on stools and stretching her chubby little legs to hop from one chair to the other, your boys offering up commentary and asking for second helpings.

It feels a lot like my own childhood, crammed into a little kitchen full of noise and laughter and an occasional reminder to chew with mouths closed. Familiar.

And I realize how much I missed this.

Infertility has stolen so much, touched so many places in my soul that I'm still recognizing just how much its affected me.

It has changed the way I do friendship.

My adult friendships often make me feel unimportant, immature, like I can't relate. I love Bible studies with these women and the opportunities we have to connect over the Word of God, but when it comes to talk of potty training or discipline or pregnancy pains, I have nothing to contribute.

I listen and learn and squirrel away the information for a someday I know may never come. I take in the grace and wisdom of their experiences, but I still feel the pain of the not knowing. Of being "other."

Unexpected

I'm beginning to believe that positive pregnancy tests are actually just a deep rooted myth.

Nobody actually gets those two pink lines, right? It's all just an elaborate fairy tale. Because after almost four years of this, I've certainly never seen it.

Without getting into too many details, this past month was pretty disappointing. All the signs pointed to the strong possibility that I actually ovulated (which doesn't usually happen), there was some personal significance of this particular month, and I was so, so hopeful.

But the month came and went with a garbage can full of stark white pregnancy tests, and once again I'm disappointed.

As I lay on my husband's arm feeling sorry for myself, I noticed that he didn't seem nearly as crestfallen. Two years ago, that would have made me angry... but in the past few years I'm understanding that my husband lacks something that I cling to so tightly-

Expectations. 

Understanding Came Upon a Midnight Clear

When infertility is an issue, family gatherings and holiday parties can be minefields.

The questions. There are always questions.

When will you two have a little one?

You look so nice holding a baby... when can we expect one from you?

Don't you want kids?

Honestly, they almost always mean well, but knowing that doesn't help in the moment.

Good intentions don't keep me from, say, choking on that sip of sparkling cider, my face turning as red as those holiday napkins, and then hurrying to hide in the bathroom to cry. Not that I've done that. <ahem.>

The truth is, as well-meaning as they may be, the majority of the people asking those baby-related questions just don't understand.

They can't. They haven't been there.


It can be so tempting to just grin and bear it, put on a mask and hide my true feelings. Sometimes it's a bit of survival, too.

But when I'm not really being myself, really being transparent, I'm also not letting anyone else in.

It's different when it's with my sister, though.


My sister and I are very much alike, and she's kind of my go-to person when it comes to dealing with some of the holiday family drama. We are similar enough that she really understands a lot of the struggles I'm dealing with, because she's been there.

That kind of empathy is important- it creates a special relationship. We can be transparent with one another, because she gets it.

Even So

Last Sunday, our pastor preached Psalm 127.

And it made me angry because it felt like a snot-nosed sister pushing on that dark blue bruise with her bony little pointer finger.

Ow. And, why would You do that? Why? 


It's not that I don't think the words are true-- I know and I believe deep in my bones that these words are truth and light and life.

I believe that children are a heritage from the Lord. Kids are treasures. I have seven nieces and nephews, I'm surrounded by kids at work, I love kids. I know. I know. I see them, I value them, I love them. Arrows, each one- they each have a purpose and a future that I can't possibly imagine.

I believe it. Yes.

But sometimes, the Bible hurts. 

The psalmist proclaims the power and provision and promises of God, and then goes on to break my heart with the very thing that God hasn't provided.

The Important Thing

I try not to pick favorites... but... I have a couple favorites. (Don't tell all the others.)

I stood at the check-in desk in the warm summer sunshine, and watched with a big smile as she got out of the vehicle.

She is one of my favorite campers.

Vibrant, kind, laid-back, and just a fun-to-be-around person. Her family's first summer at the Family Camp where I work was also my first summer, and somehow, that made us instant friends. The week when they come to the Bible Camp where I work is always my favorite week of the summer.

We greeted each other with a big hug, just like we've done for four summers, now.




And then she said it.

"We thought you might be pregnant..." 



I didn't expect it, honestly.


It's been years that we've been on this journey, and I'm coming to terms with our misfortune (slowly). It doesn't hurt as sharply as it used to, most of the time. But this one surprised me.

It wasn't really the infertility that hurt this time-- it was something else.

She was affirming a whisper, a voice in the vulnerable parts of my soul. A voice that I've been rejecting as strongly as I can.

See. hidden beneath her question, I heard the unspoken comment she was making.

Children are the important thing. 

It's a common narrative, especially in Christian circles. And I think we're mistaken. 

Read the Rest of the Post over at Amateur Nester-->

DISCLOSURE: In order for me to support my blogging habit, I may receive monetary compensation or other types of remuneration for my endorsement, recommendation, testimonial and/or link to any products or services from this blog. You may see a full disclosure by clicking on my "About" page. I will only promote products that I use, enjoy, or take a shine to. All opinions and reviews are my own and are not influenced by any compensation I may receive.

Promises in the Bible

Original Image used with Permission

The first few steps on this painful path were so... unexpected.

I didn't deal with it well.

I was angry and confused, but most of all, I felt so isolated. Infertility, like many other hurts in life, can do that.



Everyone in my life has kids. Many of my friends are on kid number two or three. Some have even completed their families.

Add to it the fact that I work at a Bible Camp- kids everywhere all the time, even babies and toddlers during the family camp weeks, and I’m surrounded.

I’m surrounded by the stuff of family life. The playpens and high chairs and strollers. The school trips and loose teeth.

My home is different than the houses of our friends, different than the activity at work. It’s quiet without the shrieks, chatter, and laughter of children.

In those early days, I really felt like the one still frame in a scene of activity. All around me there’s this flurry, fast-paced and noisy, but I’m standing motionless.

Frozen. Conspicuous because of what’s missing.

I stick out in the middle of all the life.

"I Didn't Want to Be That Girl!": A Study Review

I am insecure.

I worry about saying the wrong thing, about hurting my marriage, about wearing the wrong pair of shoes to the retreat and having people talk about me.

I'm concerned with what people think. I'm concerned about my deep, hard-to-root-out sin. I hate that I have such weak self-control.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again-- I am quick to point out my own mistakes and flaws.

I think many of us are. 

We see these things in our lives and think, "Ugh. I didn't want to be like that."

Workin' Maint'nence

"Mom! Can I go help Trevor?"

I heard his little voice from across the parking lot.

One of the families who lives and works at camp has four kids- and the two boys in particular, well, they really like to follow my husband around.

The boy sprints across the gravel toward the golf cart; a wooden sword, pushed under his tiny little belt, knocking against his knee as he runs.

Trevor waits for him to catch up, then pulls an extra rake out of the back of the cart, handing it to the breathless little boy.

To My Pregnant Former Student

It's been awhile, hasn't it- a while since I taught you English and grammar and how to read Shakespeare. Two years, I think.

I don't think you were expecting to see me walk into the restaurant where you work this lovely Saturday morning. It's always kind of weird to see teachers out of a classroom setting. I know it always felt Twilight-Zone-y to me.

A lot has changed- I'm not teaching anymore, for one. But I'd say things have changed for you even more.

That plain white canvas apron around your 17-year-old waist can't conceal the fact that you're carrying a heart below your own.

The Answers (The Ones We Know Right Now, Anyway)

I realize that as some of my friends and family have become my (ominous music) blog readers, there has been some surprise about our struggle with infertility.

Because many of our dear family and friends... didn't know that we were dealing with this.

Honestly, this journey that we've been walking is so private, so personal. I still don't talk about it well. I still have wrong attitudes, hurt feelings, and lots of sore spots about it. And it's a long convoluted story... and how much do I share? It's just awkward.

But when I started putting words out on this blog, sharing what God's doing here in this time, here in this moment, here in my life... well, it's all kind of colored by the journey we're walking right now.

You know?

Every realization, every reminder of God's faithfulness, His goodness, His grace, comes back to what we're struggling with in this moment.

The way I see God is through the lens of infertility. 

That's the season I'm in.

And that's why I chose to share a little more about our journey.

But I also realize that I've left a lot of gaps- a lot of information unsaid, a lot of questions unanswered. And honestly, a lot of that was because we didn't have answers. And a lot was because it just didn't fit in this space.

This isn't an infertility blog. That's not the purpose of this little corner of the internet. So I didn't give many details, didn't share many thoughts on all that.

But that doesn't mean that I don't have stuff to say.

I want to let you know that even if you learn that you're not able to have children, or that having kids will be a struggle, it's okay. Life moves on. God is still good. I want to be an encouragement to those on this same path.


So today, I'll be sharing answers, the ones we know anyway, and filling in some of those gaps in our story of infertility.

Read the Post at Amateur Nester-->

Love Your Body

I was the smallest kid in my class. Always.

Even still, I'm the smallest adult in most venues- it's part of being a whopping 5'0" tall.

It never really bothered me- and it still doesn't.

In fact, being tiny kind of became who I am. My identity. 

Read the Rest of the Post-->

In Season: Finding the Fruit

I’m in a season right now. A season when fruit seems hard to come by. I often feel unproductive- like my spiritual legacy is stunted somehow by my physical infertility. It’s barren time- or it certainly seems that way.

I think many of us have been there. Whether we've walked a road of infertility (like mine), or suffered losses and grief, stagnation, difficult marriages, unfulfilled dreams- it’s easy to feel like our lives offer little fruit.

Happy Mother's Day! (and why you don't need to feel sorry for me)

There's been a bit of talk around the interwebs about Mother's Day coming up this weekend. About how it's important to be sensitive to those who have empty wombs, to those who have lost children, to those who are struggling with infertility, like me. About how pastors need to recognize us as well.

Most of the time, yes. I'd agree. Sensitivity and awareness are important.

But when it comes to Mother's Day, no one needs to take my feelings into account. You don't need to feel sorry for me on Mother's Day.

Mother's Day is not a day when I feel sad. 

See, I have my mother. Not only that, but I also have my grandmothers, and an awesome mother-in-law. They're all still on this side of heaven.

I'm one of the blessed ones on Mother's Day.

See, Mother's Day isn't about me.

It's not about you, either.

Love, A Friend Still Waiting

Dear Friend,

Today, you posted a smiling picture of yourself- two actually, to compare your baby bump now with the way you looked twelve weeks ago.

I took a moment to look at that picture, to notice the sparkle in your eyes and hand on your growing belly, right over the little one being knit together inside of you. What a miracle.

And if I'm being completely honest, yes. I felt jealous. The kind of jealousy that makes me feel like I've been knocked in the stomach after playing Red Rover on the playground.

Rocking Chair

We're nearly three years into this grand lesson called marriage, and we've learned a lot- about ourselves, each other, marriage in general. All that knowledge is mostly good.

But one thing? One thing we've learned stands out... it's something I'd rather not have had to learn. We now know that getting pregnant- having kids- probably isn't going to be easy for us.

I could go on and on about my cycle length and my hormone panel results and basal temperatures and the doctors and the plans... but I won't. Not in this post, anyway.