My Miracle

I haven’t been able to blog for a while.

I don’t have writer’s block– it’s more like writer’s dam.

I have a barrier in my brain from thinking about writing anything other than this one thing.

You ready for it?:

After having Brooklyn, we have found out that we cannot have any more children. 

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This isn’t to say that with the help of medical intervention that we cannot possibly achieve the goal of another bundle of joy. We possibly can. We just don’t want to go that route because the risks far out way the benefits.

Why do I feel the need to even write this?

Because well-intentional people via social media or in my life always ask me when we are going to have another kid or why we don’t have one yet. The inquiring doesn’t bother me in any way but I am sick of avoiding it. Avoiding it, for me… makes me feel shameful. Like I am ashamed that my body cannot do what God made women to do. But that isn’t at all true. I am not ashamed. Nor should any woman that cannot conceive feel ashamed.

Am I sad?

Yes. Well, at first I was. Now there are just very few moments of sadness. I have come to terms with it. I am blessed beyond belief because I realize that to even have B is a miracle in itself. I am blessed that I was able to carry her and give birth to her.

Am I mad?

No. Not at all. I guess I can see why people would assume I would be. “God, how could this happen?… What did I do wrong?” I am not mad at God at all. I know very well His answer is “no,” and I am okay with that. I do not need to know His reasoning but only that I am happy where I am, blessed with what I have, and cannot drive myself crazy with the what-ifs and whys. I realize I gave birth to an amazing little girl and I am grateful for her. She is a miracle.

Am I hopeful?

Of course. I haven’t lost hope but only gained contentment. I am so content with just having B. More than content, really. Satisfied, happy, joyful. Yeah, that is it… I am so joyful. 

***

My purpose is to be transparent and encouraging. I want to be transparent because I want to be encouraging. I want to let those know who might be struggling with infertility that each journey is our own. One is not like the other. I only hope that those of you on your journey do not feel ashamed. You will have your moments of sadness, anger, and hopelessness. Then you might even have your moments of happiness and acceptance.

When we found out I wasn’t able to conceive without fertility drugs– I was in denial. I didn’t really take it seriously. I just conveniently told myself, “God will heal me.” It wasn’t until a few months later with no results that I thought back to that day. I started researching about the drugs I would need to take, my condition, and the condition of my health when I delivered B. Chris and I talked about it and we decided on not using medical intervention. It was not a risk we personally wanted to take. We kept living life and every now and again I would convince myself by some miracle I was pregnant and buy pregnancy tests. They were always negative.

A little over a year ago I had a serious run in with anemia. It changed my whole life– not because of the condition itself, but because it forced me to really deal with the fact that I will not be having anymore children. That I couldn’t bear a son to carry on my husband’s family name, that I couldn’t bear a sister for B to be as close to as I am to all of mine, or even for myself– one more chance to snuggle a baby that was all mine.

I felt the Holy Spirit comfort me. I felt a undeniable force of peace. I felt something telling me “no” when I wanted the answer to be “yes.” That was the catalyst that helped me freely cry, feel sadness, acceptance, and then lastly comfort in talking about it.

I have the most amazing family. My husband is amazing. He is so encouraging. He reassures me anytime that I need it that he doesn’t need another baby to feel complete. That he is far beyond blessed and happy with our family of three. We joke that we could never love another like B anyways. He offers me comfort with his humor. Comfort through his silence when I need to talk about it and he just listens. Comfort through his big big hugs and kisses on the forehead.

B is so comforting as well. She tells me she wouldn’t want me to put chemicals in my body to have another baby. She tells me that she is so happy with being the only child (no surprise there). She says that she is happy to just be us three.

I realize I am blessed to even have B. I realize that there are many many women who will not get the opportunity that I have been given so I do not and will not ever take it for granted. Here are a few things that I remind myself of on days that I need it the most:

Not being able to get pregnant does NOT make me less of a woman.

Not being able to get pregnant does NOT make me less desirable to my husband.

Not being able to get pregnant does NOT indicate I have done something wrong.

Not being able to get pregnant IS a hard thing to accept.

Accepting not being able to get pregnant does NOT mean you have given up hope.

***

Every journey is different. One is not like the other. This is not an outline of how anyone should or will feel. This is my journey. I am not ashamed. I am complete. I am happy. I am blessed.

Here is my miracle on the day she was born:

My Miracle

Thank you for reading!

Oceans of love to you and yours.

xo

It Is My Decision

B has always been really inquisitive. She says things that are immensely profound for a five (soon to be six) year old.

She doesn’t notice race, clothes size, or never uses words like “ugly” or “fat.” She truly believes every single person is beautiful and celebrates peoples differences. She makes me really proud.

And in my hardest of moments, she shines bright for me– to help me through

***

I made a very important decision for myself recently.

I have decided that it is best for me and my mental health and heart to not allow my biological dad to be apart of my life.

(To set the scene to what happens next: I do not cry often or get overly emotional in front of B because she does have such a tender heart and feels so deeply, I would never want to worry her or put too much on her so she could only sense that I was hurting)

I explained to her that I had to make a choice for me and her and being that my biological Dad was very inconsistent, that it wasn’t healthy for him to be in our lives.

She crawled into my lap and said this…

“I do not think that Grandpa was prepared to be a Daddy to you when you were little. I do not think that he was prepared to be a Daddy to you now and I do not think that he was prepared to be a Grandpa to me now. I know that he loves you and me but he just makes bad choices.”

Yes, she said that. Just.like.that.

I always kiss her ouchies, reassure her when she is doubting herself, encourage her, praise her, and make her feel brave. I am her mother. That is what I do.

Today she did that very thing for me.

Those eyes of hers reassured me that it is “okay.”

That my decision was the right one and that it is “okay”

I won’t ever be happy with not having my dad in my life but “okay” isn’t bad either. I cannot control him. I can only control my actions, my reactions, and make my own decisions based on what is best for me.

It is my decision to maintain my healthy state of mind.

It is my decision to set the example for my daughter that not all relationships add value and to the ones that don’t, no matter how hard it may be, do not have a place in your life.

I do not know what the future holds for my dad and I but I know that he made his decision and I made mine and I will be…

better than okay because I have a wonderful life full of love that I am so grateful for.

It Is His Decision.

To grow up without your biological father is a profound thing…a life altering thing.

I cannot begin to wrap my head around why someone would not want to be apart of their child’s life.

Dealing without my biological father and with him has been interesting to say the least. My memories of him are vague and come in fragments. My experiences with him in these last two years are happy, sad, hopeful, and empty.

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He left when I was five. The few memories I have him are actually good ones. I remember him playing baseball with us. I remember him being really funny and a jokester. I remember him trying to do my long hair on the days that he would have us at his house. I remember him always being on the floor and playing with my brother and I.

***

From ages five to twelve– we had zero communication. I did not know him. I thought of him very little. It wasn’t until my brother’s funeral that I saw him. I was kind. I was open. I wanted to be apart of his life. He never called. He never wrote.

***

From ages twelve to sixteen– we had zero communication. I did not know him. I thought of him very little. It wasn’t until I ran away from home in one of my stupid teenage angst episodes that I tracked him down through a relative of his so I can really “get back” at my parents. He flew down the next day. I was so hopeful. We spent three days together. He was so easy to talk to. He was fun. He was really cool. He was raising another family that was not biologically his and  coincidentally were around my age. I tried really hard to be okay with it but it quite literally broke my heart. He went back to his home state. We communicated for a few months. The letters stopped. The calls stopped.

***

From ages sixteen to twenty seven– we had zero communication. I did not know him. I thought of him more often than ever before. Two years ago, I talked to Chris about finding him. We had a daughter, I had a whole family I knew nothing about, and I was getting older. My heart wanted to find out who that other part of me was.

Chris tracked him down and asked him if he was capable of being apart of my life before I spoke with him because he didn’t want to see me hurt. He explained my pain and my bio Dad reassured Chris that he wanted to be apart of me again.

Our first conversation was painful. He cried most of the time. I was brave. I was strong. I appeared to be at least… Inside I was wanting it to be really really easy for him to stick around this time because I felt some where that I had made it too difficult in the past and that is why he never stayed. The internal people-pleaser wanted him to be proud of me, I wanted him to see my life and want to be apart of it, and I wanted him to be my “dad.”

A few months after our first conversation, he hopped on a plane and visited us three. It was an awesome visit. I was very open and forgiving. We welcomed him in our home with open arms. It was wonderful. B loved him. Chris and him got along. There were talks of him “starting over with us” and moving down. I was so happy. My hopes were so high for our future. I had my biological Dad in my life finally and it felt marvelous.

He went home. The honeymoon phase ended.

The sorrow that I had buried for years started to resurface. I was hurting… bad. How could he have done this to me? He didn’t deserve my family to be in his life so easily. How could he have not even looked for me all these years? How could he have raised children that were not his shortly after deciding to not be apart of my life? What did I do to deserve this?

I sought help through a wonderful man at our church. He counseled me with such love and grace. For him, I am forever grateful. He helped me get healthy. He helped me see God’s love for me. I felt valued. I felt strong. I felt worthy.

I shared with my dad how I felt. I shared with him what I needed to maintain my mental health. He seemed on board.

But…

The calls got sporadic. The visits, fewer and far between. It was hard for him to hear how he made me feel. I get it. He deals with his own guilt and sadness. I get it.

But I am parent and these are my truths:

Nothing will ever keep me from my daughter.

I will quite literally lay down my life for her.

Her happiness is very important for me.

I will remind her she is worthy, strong, brave, and brilliant.

I will deny myself 99.9% for her. (The .01% is reserved for my “mommy breaks” LOL)

I have one chance at this. I will forever want to be better and do better for her.

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So you can see why it is hard for me to comprehend why this man… whose blood runs through my veins would rather make me feel worthless to spare himself a “hard” conversation with me or to even deal with the awkwardness.

I want you to know: he is a good person. He helps people. He is kind. He is generous. He is funny. He is gentle. I am actually really proud of who he is. There is just something that prevents him from totally present with me.

Maybe it’s because we didn’t forge a close natural bond when I was a kid?

Maybe it is because he cannot handle the guilt and shame that I represent for him?

Maybe it is because he is just too busy for me?

Maybe it is because he just really doesn’t want to be apart of my life?

I don’t know the answer to those possibilities. I don’t know why he never kept his promise of moving here. I don’t know why his calls have gotten to about one or two every two months.

I just don’t know.

What I do know is that all of his decisions are his own.

 But for me– I have learned FORGIVENESS.

Forgiveness for me is not “Okay-I forgive you. I will never feel sad or hurt again.” Forgiveness of this nature is active work. I have to ask God often to help me love him and forgive him. I refuse to allow anyone to have power over my life in the way that unforgiving causes. He is not capable of being the father that I have always dreamed of. This is my reality and it is okay. I will be okay. I am still blessed beyond measure.

Do not ever allow anyone to make you feel unworthy, unloved, or disregarded.

Thanks for reading xo

The Awkward Silence

I know that I will have some explaining to do– as I write this I know that it won’t make absolute sense because you don’t know the back story but I will have to save that for another time.


I woke up and it was raining last Saturday. I had beat the sun that morning because I needed to study a little more for one of my midterms. Math. Ugh. I hate math. I am so bad at it. I have to strain every atom in my brain to barely achieve an A. A low A at that. I am talking, 90.1%. Okay… moving on. So– I was up early. It was raining. My intention was to get to a testing center as soon as it opened so I could take my test and then rush home to get B ready for her dance pictures. I wanted to ask El Hub to drive me because it was across town and the rain was pretty gnarly. I wanted to– but didn’t. I didn’t want him to have to wake up B to take me because I knew that she was going to have a really long day.

It just so happened my dad was in town. I have two of them. One is considered my step-dad and one is considered my biological dad. The biological one was in town. The step-dad who I just call “dad” lives in my city. He raised me and my siblings since I was six so for me to even write “step-dad” is weird to me. He is just… my dad.

I didn’t feel comfortable driving in the rain and that distance but I couldn’t ask my dad that lives here to take me due to an obligation that he has to his church every Saturday. So I asked my dad that was in town. I awkwardly texted him:

“Hey– are you up?”

“I am sorry to even ask– can you take me to my test. I am nervous in the rain and it is far.”

Of course he said yes. I was glad to not have to drive but we had only reunited three years ago and he lives in another city so things between us are still pretty awkward. We aren’t usually alone. I have my amazing husband and wonderful daughter as a buffer to avoid the really weird circumstances that can occur with such a new and naturally strained relationship. I got in the car and the air was thick with silence. The awkward silence. The silence was so quiet yet screaming in my ear. I tried to fill it with small talk. I started to feel indebted to him. I started feeling like he didn’t have to do this for me. I started feeling like I shouldn’t have asked him. I felt like I should have drove.

We arrived. I took the test.

B.

Ugh.

He was waiting in the car as I came out of the building. He opened the door for me.

I sat down. Took a deep breath and remembered who I was…

Even though he decided to not be apart of my life for twenty-something years… That was not my fault.

When I was a little girl and cried because I felt abandoned… That was not my fault.

I do not owe this man a single thing.

I am not indebted to this man.

Him leaving was.not.my.fault.

I will not sit silently–

“Dad, I am thankful you came and took me. I know there are some things we have to work on. I feel that you need to seek counseling to help heal yourself like I have so we can have a better relationship. I know that it is hard for you to be apart of my life because I am an active reminder of your guilt and shame. I get that I say things that are hard for you to hear but I cannot be silent at the expense of myself. I have gone too far and have done too much to regress to an unhealthy me.”

I will not sit in awkward silence; with a jaded smile and glazed over eyes– just grateful he is even back in my life. He has to do the work. He has to give 100% because although he cannot make up for lost time… all hope it not lost for something new. I have forgiven the man that didn’t choose us. And I have let go of the notion that it was ever my fault.

Healing is beginning. It is not easy. Never one line going up. Always a windy road of sadness, sorrow, happiness, laughter, and maybe some awkward silences. I don’t know what awaits me when my biological father and I get to a really good place. I don’t know what that looks like, but I am excited. I pray that God strengthens me to be kind, strong, and ever-forgiving.

I hope I can offer encouragement to anyone that may be experiencing the same thing.I will share more as I continue with this blog. I think it is a great thing for me and my continued healing. Thank you for reading xo