A Different Kind of Mother's Day

I woke up this morning and the first thought that ran through my head was simple: today is Mother's Day.

This is the first time I've ever celebrated the day with a baby in my arms.

And yet, as much as I've anticipated what this day would feel like, now that it's here...I can clearly see that it's not the first year I have celebrated being a mother.

Before I ever held Blake in my arms, I held that precious baby in my heart.  I prayed for him, planned for him, loved him and waited for him.  I dreamed of his future, I planned out his nursery, imagined the things I'd do and say with him.  I've been his mother since the beginning of time.  God planned him for me since before either of us took our first breaths.  The road we took to one another was a little bit more twisted and broken than I ever imagined it would be, but we're here now.  And standing here, in this place, looking back over the road traveled....I'm grateful for what it took to get here.  The potholes, flat tires and unforeseen detours were the very obstacles that led me to this moment, that shaped me into the woman that would be sitting here this morning while a baby boy sleeps peacefully down the hall.

And I think, it's in looking back that I find myself overwhelmed with a new understanding of the celebration of Mother's Day.

As I've said before, I truly believe that motherhood is a calling.  It is literally written upon the heart of a woman by the Creator, and just like any other calling that is divinely-inspired, it cuts deep.  It's consuming.  It's transformative.  It defines sacrificial love in a way that simply cannot be quantified.  And I know that when God raises up a woman and calls her into motherhood, He does so with the perfect understanding of the cost.  He knows her journey. He knows what will be asked of her through every turn and twist and pothole, and He knows that He has chosen the perfect person to weather the storm.  He knows that in the end He is gifting His precious daughter with a gift that will far surpass her wildest dreams.  And He also know that motherhood is not a destination.  It's a journey.  I haven't 'arrived' because I have Blake in my arms.  I may have thought that this would be the finish line as I was running the race, but man was I wrong.  I'll say it again: motherhood is a calling.  It's a calling I'll pursue my whole life through, as God raises me up to be the woman He intended to raise Blake up.

So as I sit here today, and as I remember all the heartache and brokenness of Mother's Days in the past, I want to speak directly to those still navigating the storms.

Happy Mother's Day.  

I celebrate your calling, your unconditional love, and your commitment to the precious children your arms ache to hold.  Please don't forget, in those dark valleys and in every detour, that you have been a mother since the beginning of time.  This journey you're on, it's long and it can be terrifying to not see what's ahead...but my dear, dear sister please know that it's that very heartache that assures you you've already arrived.  God has called you to motherhood, and where he calls....he enables. 

Today I am on my knees thanking God for the blessing of the call.  This road has been the single most important one I have ever traveled, and it will continue to be the greatest journey of my life.   

The Jump

This morning, as I was getting Blake's bottle ready, I heard a news story about the latest YouTube video to go viral.

It's a video of a 14 year old girl about to make her maiden voyage down a ski ramp and off her first jump.  I was totally mesmerized by the video, so much so that I over warmed Blake's bottle and had to start over (oops). 

Here it is:

Man, I love this girl's heart.  Such courage!  Just looking down that jump ramp makes my heart skip a beat.  I'm the girl that skis the bunny slope over and over because I hate the thought of racing down an incline.  What can I say?  My skis always cross and I end up doing an impressive face plant.  Yes that really happens.  Once, a five year old even skied up to me and asked if I needed help.  Yes, that really happened too.

Maybe that's what made me pause initially when I saw this video.  I was seriously impressed with her courage.  But then, after I'd fed Blake and plopped him down for some floor play, I went back and watched it again.  And again.  I think it was on the third or fourth viewing that I realized what I really, really liked about this video.

I love that she named her fear.  She acknowledged it.  Her voice shook with it.  She allowed herself to be paralyzed by it for just a minute.  And then, there....she.....went

I found that incredibly powerful.  And I also think it's a really good metaphor on faith. 

I have to admit, there have been a handful of times in my life when I've found myself standing at the top of that proverbial ski ramp.  And I've looked down and been absolutely petrified by the sheer intensity of what lay before me.  Dang.  It seemed like a long way down.  Standing at the top, it looked insurmountable.  Like there's no way in heck my skis wouldn't cross and send me tumbling head-first off the side of the ramp.

But it's in that moment, when you're standing at the top of the ramp, that you have the opportunity to name your fear.  To stare it down. 

And then, to just....let it go

In the video, once Zia gets to the bottom of the ramp you can just hear her whoopin' and hollerin' and celebrating her victory.   She did it.  That feeling of absolute euphoria was her reward.

As believers in Christ, we are in a unique situation as we stand at the top of that ramp.  We are absolutely assured of the euphoria to come.  A life lived for Christ will be rewarded with an eternal life in Heaven.  Fear is a tool of the enemy, but it doesn't have to make us weak.  Rather, we can use it to make us strong.  Because our reward is assured.  Every step out in faith is a step forward in obedience to the Father.  And this life?  Well it's kind of like the trip down the ramp.  It's fast, it's terrifying, there are a few moments when your skis start to cross and you're doubting whether or not pushing off from the top was realllllly such a good idea.....but then you reach the bottom.  And it's euphoria. 

I think Zia's example was a good one.  Her voice trembled.  Her fear was palpable.  But she didn't let that stop her, and her reward was great.

The next time I'm standing at the top of that ski ramp, I want to use her example.

I have no doubt my voice will tremble.  I have no doubt that my palms will be sweating and I'll be envisioning what I'd look like catapulting off the side, turning myself into a giant snowball.  Not pretty.  I might even give myself a moment to absolutely sweat it out.

But only for a moment.

Because I know that taking that leap of faith will ultimately be for my good.  And so I'll slowly inch my way towards the edge, because I know that the fear doesn't have to cripple me.

Because I know that my faith will grow when I reach the bottom unscathed

And because I know that what lies at the bottom of that ramp is worth the risk it took to get there. 

Because if it wasn't, my Savior would never have asked me to take up my cross and follow Him.  

Sometimes, my cross might look like that ski ramp.
 
So, in the words of little Zia......

'here goes.....something'

Something great.

Adopted by the Father

At the recommendation of my dad, I recently read this book.

I can't even really describe how much it surprised me.  It's about a little boy who almost dies on the operating table, and when he awakes, he tells his mom and dad about how the "angels sang to him" and how he visited heaven and sat on the lap of Jesus.

Mindblowing stuff, right?  I wasn't sure I believed it, but decided to give the book a read anyway.

It took exactly one night to read it from cover to cover.  I was riveted.  I had tears running down my face.  I literally took my breath away.  

And I want to tell you why.

At one point in the book, the author (the father of the little boy) is telling about a heartbreaking miscarriage that he and his wife suffered before the birth of their son, Colton.  He describes it as the single most difficult event he and his wife had ever weathered in their marriage, and shared the shattered hearts that resulted from the loss of their baby.  I cried with him as I read these words, because I identify with that sense of loss as the mother of 15 IVF babies...not all of whom I will ever have the chance to hold on his earth.

Later on in the book, the topic of this miscarriage comes up again....only this time, by their little boy.  I'm including the passage:

"One evening in October, I was sitting at the kitchen table, working on a sermon.  Sonja was around the corner in the living room, working on the business books, processing job tickets, and sorting through payables.  Cassie played Barbie dolls at her feet.  I heard Colton's footprints padding up the hallway and caught a glimpse of him circling the couch, where he then planted himself directly in front of Sonja.
  
"Mommy, I have two sisters," Colton said.

I put down my pen.  Sonja didn't.  She kept on working.

Colton repeated himself.  "Mommy, I have two sisters."

Sonja looked up from her paperwork and shook her head slightly.  "No, you have your sister, Cassie, and...do you mean your cousin, Tracy?"

"No." Colton clipped off the word adamantly.  "I have two sisters.  You had a baby die in your tummy, didn't you?"

At that moment, time stopped in the Burpo household, and Sonja's eyes grew wide.  Just a few seconds before, Colton had been trying unsuccessfully to get his mom to listen to him.  Now, even from the kitchen table, I could see that he had her undivided attention."

"Who told you I had a baby die in my tummy?" Sonja asked, her tone serious.

"She did, Mommy.  She said she died in your tummy."

....I knew what my wife had to be feeling.  Losing that baby was the most painful event of her life.  We hadn't told Colton, judging the topic a bit beyond a four-year-old's capacity to understand.  From the table, I watched quietly as emotions rioted across Sonja's face. 

"It's okay, Mommy," he said.  "She's okay.  God adopted her."
___________ 

I read that passage with tears freely flowing down my face.  God adopted her.  Those words just kept replaying in mind.  

A few paragraphs later, the story continues with Colton's exhuberant exclamation:

"She said she just can't wait for you and daddy to get to heaven!"

If I had been crying before, then these were full fledged alligator tears.  I almost feel like those few paragraphs changed my world, or at least, my view of the world.

When we started the IVF process, God blessed us with 15 baby embryos.  We celebrated.  We were joyful.  We wanted them all, and we never ceased to pray for them all. But, if you've been following our story for a while, then you know that we didn't get to keep them all.  Blake was implanted along with a twin, who never attached.  Others stopped dividing and died just days after conception.  Of the original fifteen, we have just four left...waiting for us.  

I'm always so careful when writing about this topic, because it's difficult to express my heart when it comes to how I feel about these lives.  I've also received some criticism from people who don't believe it's possible to honor God while simultaneously accepting the loss of these little lives.  I've written more about my thoughts on that here.  

For me, reading this little boy's account of meeting his sister in heaven rocked my world.  It brought all of my emotions back to the forefront, but in a different, more joyful way.  

And man, it really made me think.

God has adopted my babies.  His intention, from the beginning of time, was never for them to live out their days on this earth.  Their destiny was to forever live within the gates of heaven, adopted by the Father.  When I originally wrote about this, in this post, I titled it "Adopted and Loved".  At the time, I remember thinking that the title didn't really make sense, but it just felt right. 

And it really, really was.

God has blessed us with the gift of Blake.  He has placed him in our arms to walk alongside us on this earth.  But that's not the end of the blessing.  We may never get to hold all our babies here, on earth, but they are waiting for us.  I will have an eternity with them.  They walk the streets of Heaven, sitting on the Father's lap in the throne room even as I type this.  Not a bad way for this mama to picture her babies.

It's so easy to get caught up in this world.  After all, we live here.  This is our reality, all we've ever known, and our sense of time revolves around the day-to-day of this world.  But, wow, this life?  It's nothing.  It is literally the blink of an eye.   We can't yet comprehend that, because our humanity limits our understanding.  

This little boy's account of heaven opened my eyes just a little bit more to the blessing.  I prayed for God to make me a mom, and he did....fifteen times over.  He never intended for all of those blessings to be given to me at once, and He never intended for our little human household to be filled with fifteen pairs of little feet.  That doesn't negate what He did in my life for me, and it doesn't limit it.  My babies, those I'll never hold on this earth, have been adopted by the Father...and they are waiting for me.  For their mama. That is my eternal designation.

I have little Colton's words ringing in my ears "...and she just can't wait for you and daddy to get there"

I can't wait to get there, either.  In the meantime, my heart finds joy as I picture them sitting on the Father's lap as he tickles their tummies and whispers how much He loves them.  I know MY love for them could never compare to the Father's, but my breath-prayer this morning was that He gives them three extra hugs and kisses, today and everyday.  One from their mama, one from their daddy....and one from their brother. 

____________________

Maybe some of you are reading this post with a lot of skepticism, a lot of yeah sure the kid went to Heaven and saw Jesus.  Sounds like an over-active imagination, right?  I hear that.  I wasn't sure myself as I started reading the book.  For me, though, I had to ask myself this question: Do I, as a follower of Jesus Christ, believe that I serve the kind of God who would send His angels to comfort one of His little ones in their time of need?  I do.  Jesus loves the little children.  Do I also believe that God is a miracle-worker?  Do I believe that it is possible for Him to give a glimpse of heaven to this little boy?  How could I answer that any other way but of course?  Of course God could have offered Colton that glimpse of Heaven.   And if I believe those two things, then I don't need to analyze it any further.  So, for me, I choose to walk away from the book with a sense of renewed hope, and excitement. 

Infertility, revisited

I've written about infertility more times than I can count, and yet, as I sit down to write this post it just feels different.   And I am very aware that the difference in this case is the 3-month-old miracle sleeping soundly down the hall.

I know how immeasurably we have been blessed.

But as I sit here, I'm letting my mind wander ahead to tomorrow, which will be December 1.  And I'm remembering that day one year ago.  It was a defining moment in our journey.  It was the day we became parents.  I'll never forget the feelings and emotions I had as we left the clinic that day, and as we approach the one-year anniversary, I find myself thinking about and reflecting on four itty bitty lives who are currently waiting for me in that frozen nursery.  I think about them, and my heart flutters in anxious, eager anticipation. 

Today I am so cognizant and aware that our journey isn't over.  In fact, the majority of it is still head. 

As soon as Blake was born, we did two things.  We set up a college fund for him, and we set up an OHSU fund for his brothers and sisters.  We're going back in the summer of 2012.  If all goes as planned, we'll make a final trip to OHSU (hopefully with a lot of babies in tow) in 2014.  Statistically speaking, each of our frozen babies will have their best shot in the baby-maker before I turn 30.   And because we are committed to them wholly and completely as their parents, and because I'm young enough for the timing to work out, that's our plan.

That's our plan.  Even writing that sentence makes me cringe, because I know that my plan means nothing.  I know that writing the words won't make it come true.  After all, our plan was to have had our first baby two years ago.  Our plan was to have two pairs of little feet running around the house by 2012.  

But our plan was flawed. 

It was imperfect.  And all those months of waiting were not in vain, because while we thought we were waiting for a baby...we weren't.   

We were waiting for Blake.

And that wait was perfect, and beautiful, and necessary.  Today, my eyebrows do funny contortions when my friends tell me about their "plan" for having babies.  While there's nothing wrong with preparing for the future and setting goals, if I've learned anything on this journey it's that my plan all along should have been complete surrender to His plan.  

So now, as we gear up for our next tango in this ongoing infertility dance in 2012, I'm feeling deeply contemplative.  It's hard, even now, to downplay the anxious thoughts that fill my heart.  Infertility is brutal.  It never gets easier.  After Blake was born, my doctor wanted to put me on birth control.  But there was no need.  I can't get pregnant on my own.  That fact always hits like a slap in the face, even though I've learned not to let it sting.  I've embraced this facet of my life as an integral part of who I am, who God made me to be, and I am willing to lean in eagerly with every step that I take in step with my Savior.

I know this is the path that God laid out for my feet to travel.  I know He has walked beside me every step of the way and remained faithful in my darkest days.  I don't feel the same fear I felt all those many months ago when we were waiting for our first miracle.  This time around, it's different.  Maybe, in some ways, the emotions are amplified because I know what's at stake.  Four little humans who are wholly mine.  My precious babies.  Blake's brothers and sisters.  I feel this season so deeply because I want them all. 

And so I'm spending this anniversary week--their anniversary week--in prayer.  For our future.  For our family.  For the babies who have now been on this earth for 1 full year and who I'm still longing to meet.  I think about them all time, wondering if they'll look like their older brother or if any of them will have green eyes like me.  They are all so precious to me, so much already a part of our family.  And yet, they aren't here with us.   

I've always found the waiting to be the hardest part, because it is so unknown.  But instead of dwell in the unknown, I'm choosing to dwell in the known:  

I know that God has the perfect plan for my family, and that it was ordained since the beginning of time. 

I know that our waiting has never been, nor ever will be, in vain

I know that my babies, born and unborn, are loved and cherished by the Father.   

I know that He has already counted all the hairs that have yet to grow on their little heads

I know that He had numbered their days long before any of us were ever born, and that nothing that happens on this earth can ever change the plan He had for their lives

And I know and trust in His timing

When I look into the eyes of my son it's like God is whispering in my ear, reminding me of all I'll ever need to know:  Your waiting has never been in vain.  You were waiting for this little boy, the one I intended for you.  I take faith in that, choosing to believe and trust that this journey has already been played out in the eyes of my Savior.  He knows my family and each member that is to be added to it.  And I know that His master plan is perfect.  As we enter into this next leg of our infertility journey, we do so with anxious anticipation as we await the grand reveal.

We're not waiting for a baby, we're waiting for our babies.  And so we will wait.  Because we are already so, so in love.

Redeemed

I spent about an hour one morning this week reading back through my posts from the last couple of years.  I ended my little trip down memory lane with big, fat tears running down my face.

Happy tears. 

Maybe that's so significant for me today because it hasn't always been the case.  So many of the tears I've cried throughout this journey have been tears of deep, profound sadness.  Tears of longing.  Tears of heartache.  Tears cried out of fear.  Tears that streamed down my face as I drove with the radio blasting, asking why, asking how and desperately pleading for an answer to my pain.

Well, now I have my answer.  The answer is, and always has been, Blake.  This little boy is the child God has been preparing us for.  This is the child that God knew, during every dark day, would someday be the one we'd have in our arms.  I can hardly wrap my head around the magnitude of that.  I can so clearly remember the heartache, the fear and sadness, but it's overshadowed tenfold by how God redeemed that heartache.  My timing was imperfect; my pleading so often in vain.  And you know what?  I wouldn't have had it any other way, because if I had gotten what I wanted when I wanted it, I would never have carried this precious little boy that God has intended for me since the beginning of time. 

The sorrow may last for a night, but joy comes with the morning.

It's absolutely humbling to look back now and see how God has worked in our lives and given us this story.  I once wrote about being in a desert, and about Adam and my commitment to preparing our fields for the harvest that we believed God was going to send.   Now, here we are, standing in a glorious downpour, and all I can think to do is raise my hands in praise to the One who has transformed our lives in such a tangible, real way.  There aren't words for the joy we feel.  There aren't words for the love that we have for the baby God has gifted us with. 

So many of you have asked me questions about infertility, or in vitro, or simply reached out and shared your own story of longing and loss.  Sometimes I hear your stories and it leaves me speechless, because the pain you feel is so tangible.  I can feel it.  I can remember it.   I know the pain of infertility is unlike anything else in life.  It's like being in a choke-hold.  It's hard to even breathe without being reminded of the heartache.  It's overwhelming. 

But I also know that God will redeem your heartache.  The desire to be a momma is God-breathed.  It's a promise written on your heart by the One who made you.  I believe that.   The path to motherhood looks different for all of us, but I know that we serve a God who will never leave or forsake you.  Your heartache is not forgotten.  Your story isn't over yet.

I am confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion 

Philippians 3:6 

If the Bible says it, we can believe it. 

For Adam and I, our story isn't over yet either.  Our journey to Blake was beautiful, it was perfect, and it was truly just the beginning.  We don't know where the rest of our journey will take us, but we do know that we are committed to walking this road with hearts full of thanksgiving and faithfulness.  How could we not?  God has already shown us so clearly that His plan is so much better than anything we could have dreamed up on our own. 

And for all of you who are knee-deep in the muck of your own journey?  I want to encourage you not to be weighed down.  Lift your eyes up to the hills!  Where does your help come from? Your help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth (Psalms 121).  There's really no one better to have on your team. 

The Release

Our pastor gave a wonderful sermon today at church.

So often, Mother’s Day sermons are focused on the incredible gift God has given us in a mother, and on all the ways that we are called to honor and respect the unique role that God has prepared especially and only for them.  And focusing on that is right and good.  A mother is an undeniable gift that God chose to bestow on us in our humanity, and as such, they should be honored and revered for the godly women God raised them up to be.  Godly mothers are a precious gift sent from the Father straight to earth. 

But in giving a sermon focused solely on that part of motherhood, year after year, a significant number of hearts are left out.  Heart that are called to motherhood, and yet may find themselves with empty arms.

And so today, I found my heart touched and tenderized by a sermon on the 1 Samuel woman; on Hannah.

Hannah was a woman who believed that God had called her to motherhood, and yet, she found her arms ached with the emptiness of a child.   We're told that God has "closed her womb".  She was despondent.  The Bible tells us that she “wept bitterly”.  She went before the Lord and made a vow, crying out, “Lord Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but give her a son, then I will give him to the Lord for all the days of his life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.”

Hannah pleaded desperately for God to answer her prayer for a son.  This is the part of her story that is familiar to many of us. 

But it’s the part that comes after that spoke to my heart as our pastor read the words today. 

I’ve read the story of Hannah and cried it out countless times, but I’d never stopped to ponder exactly what happened in verses 17 and 18.  It stopped me cold today.  In those verses, after Hannah had finished crying out to God, the Bible tells us that, “…she went her way and ate something, and her face was no longer downcast.”  On a first read, it’s pretty easy to brush right past those words. 

But I want to linger there for a minute. 

Hannah laid her requests before the Lord, she poured out her heart and left her anguish at His feet.  And then, she walked away.  Her face was no longer downcast.  She trusted God with the desire that He authored.  She dedicated her child, the one that she had yet to receive into her arms, to the Almighty God in faith and then released him into His care.   

Our pastor stopped there to make the point that God is big enough. Godly parenting means understanding the release; it means being willing to declare our full dedication of the children we pray for—either the ones we hold in our arms or the ones we are waiting to receive—and then to trust God to take it from there.

Wow.  That's big for me.  Walking through infertility made me dependent on the Father, but the release has always been hard.  Relinquishing my own meager representation of control in favor of His protection and care is a daily struggle.  And I think it's so hard because motherhood is a calling.  As God beckons us into relationship with Him, He draws near to our hearts and makes known His plan for our lives.  I've always known that my greatest calling in life was to motherhood.  I believe God wrote that promise on my heart from before I was ever born into this world.  And because I feel called so strongly, my desire to protect that God-given dream is almost insurmountable.  It can seem overwhelming.  But today, God made it so clear to me that I can trust Him with the desire He authored.  That I can just give it to Him.  That I can listen to His whispered assurances to my heart, and I can let him quiet my fears.  Because He is big enough. 

There are so many hurting hearts today.  So many 1 Samuel women who are desperately crying out to God and yearning for arms that are full with the blessing of a baby.  I know what that feels like.  My heart is tenderized to the journey.  And today, I’m praying for each of you.  I’m praying for God to draw near to your heart, that He may whisper assurances and grant you a peace that passes all understanding.   

I also pray that we all look to Hannah as an example of the faith we are called to.  Don't let your face be downcast.  Lay it at His feet.  Trust God with the desire that He has authored, because He is big enough.  

Adopted and Loved

I was staring at the latest picture of Blake today, the one where he’s sucking his precious little thumb and has his other hand tucked up so adorably by his face, and I couldn’t help but feel incredibly, immeasurably, undeservedly blessed.

I have a human being living inside of me.  God has gifted Adam and I with a little boy, and in August, we’ll get to bring him into the world.

I wrote a blog post I never published months and months ago talking about how infertility has softened my heart. I wrote about all the ways God has changed me and revealed little snippets of my own character that He needed me to work on.  He’s drawn me into Himself, and in doing so, stripped me of the blinders we so often can have when it comes to our own life.  And I’ve learned a lot.

The biggest lesson by far has been the way this journey has changed my outward view.  Walking through infertility has made me want to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve and instead wear the heart of my Savior.  God has given me a profound desire for a heart that listens more and judges less.

And that’s big, because it hasn’t always been me.

If you know me, then you know I’m an opinionated person. I’m passionate, and I believe in things strongly.  My heart breaks over abortion.  Nothing fires me up more than a good political debate.  I’m conservative in every sense of the word.  My husband calls me his firecracker (lovingly, I’m sure) and at times I have been known to be a bit sassy.  I come by these traits honestly (ahem, mom and dad) but I also know that they don’t necessarily reflect the heart of my Savior.
 
People don’t change because you yell at them. Hearts aren't softened by boisterous condemnation.  I can't change a life by judging an action.  Jesus came as a servant King.  He loved, and that’s what we’re called to do as well. 

And loving doesn’t have to mean agreeing.  Rather, it’s a conscious decision to love the person and let God deal with the sin.  How else can we be God’s transparent messengers of the Light in this dark, dark world?  It’s easy to condemn when you’ve never walked through the fire.  It’s easy to judge someone when you’ve never walked in their shoes.

And in light of all that, I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how different people approach infertility.

After walking down this road myself, I am profoundly aware that at some point, as believers in Christ, each of our paths split and morph into the unique journey that God has allowed, laid out, for each of us.  I absolutely believe that, and I can support and encourage the journeys of others around me even though they may not mirror my own.  Why?  Because God made us individuals.  He made our stories unique.  I recently went to dinner with two dear friends, and one of them put it this way: since God dwells in each of us, our relationships with Him are personal.  I can’t fathom His relationship or the whispered guidance He gives to others, and others simply can’t fathom His relationship with me.  That’s God’s plan, His design, to enter into the intimacy of relationship with each of us.

Even with knowing that, and believing that, it’s hard for me to deal well with people who look at my story, at the path Adam and I have walked, and want to judge.  Who want to somehow diminish the life of my son because of the way he was conceived.

In the past month, I encountered some very harsh criticism that hurt.  It hurt because I’m a people-pleaser.  I’m also human, and part of being human is caring about what other people think of you.  And I’m also a mom.  And as a mom, when you talk about my kid, you’d better be prepared for the claws.

And yes, it all relates back to IVF.

I’m not going to name names and I’m not going to point fingers, but I am going to share some of what was said.  I think it’s important, because I know I’m not alone in the path God has led me down, and I also know that my story is not my own.  I didn’t pick this path for myself, I never imagined myself on it, but nonetheless God has used it time and time again and allowed us the honor and joy of proclaiming His goodness and mercy and His manifested faithfulness in all three of our lives.  I am absolutely committed to being that transparent witness for what He has done for me, and this blog is one way I do that.

So I want to share more with you.

When Adam and I found out that our best chances for pregnancy were through IVF, our immediate reaction was one of fear.  I’ve blogged about that in the past.  We had visions of sextuplets, selective reduction and discarded embryos flashing through our heads, and we looked at each other and thought: no way this could be happening to us.

It was surreal.

In those early days, we were defined by our fear of the unknown.  We cried in each other’s arms, we renewed our interest in adoption, we tried to picture our family as forever just the two of us.  And through all of that, in each scenario, it felt wrong.  We weren’t fulfilled.  The God-given desire of our heart was for a family of our own; babies that were half of me and half of him.  And so we got on our knees.  We prayed that God would lead.  We prayed for the courage to go where led.  We prayed for a miracle.

There was so much God-stuff that happened during those days of fear.  I’ve blogged about it all before, so I won’t repeat myself, but what I will say is that God’s voice was clear.  We knew that God had laid this path out for us.  We knew His hand was upon this journey, and when God moves…it’s best to move with Him.

So we did.  And He led us to IVF.

I want to pause here because so often I read blogs or commentaries or articles about IVF as the “easy choice”. Couples who choose IVF are taking "the easy way out."  I’d bet my next paycheck that anyone writing those words has never experienced in vitro, because let me tell you what, it’s no easy choice.  There are a million considerations. It’s emotional, it’s physical…it's everything.  It's the commitment to a dream; a commitment to the lives of babies you have never met, and yet are wholly in love with.  There are no limits to how far I’d go to protect that.  I’d do anything. My life is secondary.  And I think that does reflect the heart of my Savior.  After all, He went to the Cross for me.  That’s the ultimate example of sacrificial love.

So when I ran across an article discussing IVF in a horribly negative light (and I use "ran across" loosely...it was dropped in my lap in a purposeful way), I was really offended.  The article referred to IVF babies as “a product” brought into the world devoid of any love relationship between mother and father.  A product?  Blake just kicked me out of sheer indignation at the thought, and I’ll come back to that in a minute.

The person who shared the article also shared her thoughts that IVF carries with it the necessary acceptance of a certain loss.  I would answer that with a question: Isn’t that what earthly love is? When you choose to love someone here on earth, you accept that at some point in the future you will lose them or they will lose you. You choose to put your heart and soul into loving someone for whatever time God gives you with them on this earth. Not one day is a given, no tomorrow is certain, and yet we choose everyday to give up that control to the One who has numbered all of our days from before we were ever conceived. That’s love, and it’s always worth the risk.

In our case, there just aren’t words to describe how it feels to long for the babies that we have yet to meet. We wanted them all, and we entrusted their lives to the Father long ago. They are our babies, the children we prayed for, and we rest in the assurance that this earth is not their home anymore than it is ours. We can’t wait to meet them, and the promise of that day to come is very real in our hearts.

Is that the acceptance of a certain loss?  Not at all, because we haven’t lost them.  Our reunion is still to come, and it will be so, so sweet.

This person also wrote that IVF is presumptive of God’s gifts. There's so much I could say here.

I think it’s presumptive to assume that anyone can possibly hope to know God’s plan for the lives of others. I think it’s presumptive to imply in any way that the life of my son was spoken into existence by anyone other than his Creator.  That he is somehow "less" of a human or lacking a soul because of the path he took into our arms.  As a mom, I have a strong desire to defend my son.  But thank you sweet Jesus that I don’t need to.  Blake’s life speaks for itself. God’s amazing mercy and grace speaks through him, because Blake is His child, and God knew from the beginning of time the exact path Blake would take into this world. And that plan for his life was perfect, because it was ordained by the Father.

And everything I just wrote is exactly what I told the person who originally posted the article. 

So why am I sharing all of this?  Because I know we all struggle with doubts.  Because I know there are always going to people who want to engage in a shouting match to see whose voice echoes the loudest.  It's human nature.  We're imperfect, and all too often that imperfection brings us into head-on collisions with one another.

But we don't have to be a slave to it.

I'm not defined by what someone else thinks of me.  I serve a God who enters into relationship with us, who loves us wholly and uniquely, and who desires the same in return.  His ways are mysterious, and His panoramic squashes my Polaroid every time.  So I let Him define me. 

I don’t have all the answers.  I know that our path is not the path for everyone, and I respect and honor those couples who feel a different pull on their hearts.  Why?  Because it’s relational.  God uses our stories and our journeys in different ways, and that’s the beauty of His design.

What I do know is that God is my carpenter, and He’s still pounding out the imperfections so that my heart may mirror His.  Until that time, I pray that He makes me pliable, not rigid, so that His work may be done in and through me.

Infertility

I’ve been thinking a lot about infertility. 

You might read that and think it’s strange that I’m focusing on a part of my life that’s seemingly over, but let me be the first to say…..it’s not.  Infertility will always be a part of me.  And our journey, while on a hiatus for a couple years, is far from over.  We have four more babies in the frozen nursery at OHSU, and we'll go back for each one. 

Last night we were talking with some dear friends about our journey through infertility, and as Adam and I were sharing our story, I found myself stuck in a God-moment.  The moment struck me shortly after Adam talked about his own journey through fear, to faith, to God, and ultimately to a saving knowledge of his Savior and a baptism.  We talked about the people God placed in our lives, the fellowship He brought us, and the constant assurances He revealed to our hearts.  Now we’ve come full circle, and I can’t describe it any other way than to say it was an absolute wow God moment. 

I look at myself today and I almost don’t recognize the person looking back at me.  And that’s a good thing.  I’m different that I was; God has drawn me into Him, He has changed my heart and grown in me the fruits of obedience and trust.  He has revealed His faithfulness to me.  He has wiped away every tear and heard every cry.  I know and feel—from the deepest parts of my soul—His love in a way I have never known it before.   I’m wholly in love with my Savior, and my desire to serve Him and to honor Him consumes me.  I see the change in myself, in my husband, and it brings me to my knees.  God knew. From the beginning of time, He had the plan for my family, and He knew during every dark day what the future would look like.  He knew that there would come a day when I would carry our child in my womb.  He knew.  And all He asked was for me to trust.  I held a Polaroid that I was constantly analyzing from different angles, trying to make the picture change somehow, and all the while God held the panoramic view, and He was saying  just wait. 

And I feel privileged.  I am honored and humbled that God has given me, given us, this difficult road to walk.  Because who I am is not who I was.  And I don’t want to ever go back. 

So this leads me to the reason for this post.  I’ve been feeling a tug on my heart for a while now, and I think maybe if I put my thoughts into words I’m gain some clarity.

I’ve been thinking and praying about starting an infertility ministry.  

I know, for me, infertility was a very difficult thing to talk about with anyone (you might not know that from my blog, but keep in mind I started this a good 8 months into our story).  It felt taboo.  Talking to other women about my inability to bear a child gave me a profound sense of inadequacy.  It was uncomfortable—for me, and for them.  And if we’re being honest, if you haven’t experienced the heartache of not being able to have children, it’s hard to relate.  Of course it is.  That’s true with so many of life’s trials. 

I found an incredible support network through the blogging world, and I know I’m not the only one.  I’ve met so many amazing women—some of you are probably reading this right now—through this blog.  I’ve made friends (literally) around the world and become so inter-connected in the lives of these women I’ve never met.  I’ve read their stories, prayed for their own journeys, and felt the blessing of fellowship with these women walking this same difficult road. 

But it was still hard.  It’s hard to go through your everyday life missing that same support network. It’s hard to go to coffee with a friend and feel awkward for bringing up infertility when she asked the what’s new with you question.  It’s hard to contain the urge to knock over your coworker in a bear hug when you receive news that the Clomid worked this month and you’ll ovulate.  It’s hard because infertility will take over your life if you let it, and nobody really knows how to make that better. 

I was sitting in church the other day reading about the variety of outreatch/support groups they offered for (quite literally) just about everything; recovering from abortion, addiction, single moms, divorced families, blended families, etc. etc.  And I couldn’t help but wonder infertility wasn’t on that list.  It’s so often overlooked—so many women suffer alone, feel alone, when in reality they are so far from it. 

So that leads me to here.  I don’t know exactly where God is calling me to take this, or what an infertility ministry might look like, but I do know its purpose.  To offer hope, give encouragement, and ultimately, to offer meaning through the One who placed our feet on this difficult path.  I believe God chooses people to walk the road of infertility not to punish, but to reward.  I know this because I have experienced it.  For reasons we can’t always understand, God has placed us all on this road….so why not walk it together?

 _________

And so I ask you: are you walking the road of infertility?  If you are, I want to pray for you.  I want to come alongside you in this journey.  I want you to know you’re not alone.  There is a purpose, a plan greater than you could ever imagine, for every step of this journey.  There is a God who loves you, knows your every tear and longs to wipe them away.  I know the road you walk—the potholes, the pain, the hurt and fear—but I also know the joy.  It’s there.  Let’s find it together.    

Baby #2

I want to amend my last post just a little bit.

We have been profoundly blessed with the gift of this pregnancy, and our hearts overflow (more every single day) with thanksgiving for the life God has entrusted us with.

But I wanted to reflect a little more, because we transferred two, and we will bring only one into the world.  I want to acknowledge the loss of baby #2, because that little life was precious to us.

Our journey was unique.  Most people never get to experience what we experienced. Most people never know that there is a baby, a fertilized embryo, just waiting to attach.  Most people never know, because when the embryo travels into the uterus after fertilization, pregnancy can't be detected yet.  Most people never know the baby was there, and so most people can't miss the little life that could have been.  Most people never know they have experienced a miscarriage before implantation ever occurred.

But we're not most people.  We knew.  We've watched the promise of these babies develop from day 1--from each follicle that was stimulated in my ovaries, from each mature egg that was retrieved, and from each embryo that was created.   We prayed for each of those babies every single day, and after our transfer, we dreamed of what our future could look like with twins.  We knew.

As we've gone through this process, I feel like I've learned so much--about myself, and about the way pregnancy works.  It's such a miraculous process.  I now know that as many as 50% of pregnancies miscarry before implantation in the womb occurs.  That statistic is staggering.  Most of these miscarriages go undetected--they are called "missed" miscarriages because the mother never knew she was pregnant.  The baby just didn't implant.  The pregnancy wasn't to be.

I guess there are some who would probably prefer to never have known that a baby was lost.  Maybe in some ways it's easier to move on without knowing.  But not for us.  We are so glad we know.  That knowledge is yet another gift from God.  I may never have gotten to hold that baby in my arms, but those two weeks I carried it inside my womb are precious to me.  We are thankful that we can mourn the loss of that baby and commit the tiny life back into the waiting arms of the Father.  Thank you, Lord, for giving us that chance.

Our commitment to our babies--the one currently growing as well as the four waiting for us in the frozen nursery--is absolute.  We love them all.  We will give them all a shot at life, and we will continue to pray for and dream of our family with each precious baby added to it.   I can't wait to see the picture come together.  The loss of a baby is heartbreaking, but the joy of this pregnancy reminds us that God holds the blueprint.  From the beginning we committed this process to God, and we wholly believe that His hand is guiding the final formation of our family.   
 
We trust You, Lord.  

Fears

I admit it, I'm afraid.

For the past week, I've really been struggling with my fears for these babies.  I find myself obsessing over questions like:  Are they okay?  Are they growing?  Why don't I have more symptoms?  Should I be more tired/bloated/nauseous? Why hasn't morning sickness started?  Why aren't my boobs sore? Shouldn't I need to pee more often? (and the big one) Are we going to miscarry??

If you could see my internet browsing history, you'd notice I've turned to Google on quite a few instances to calm my fears. 

And it just needs to stop.

Yesterday, all of this come to a head as I sat on my couch, drenching my husband's shoulder in hot tears, and cried out all of my fears for our babies.  We sat that way for a long time, Adam just listening.  And when my cries had finally dulled to a whimper, he looked at me, smiled, kissed my nose and said: Oh baby.  Hasn't God already taken us this far?  Hasn't he been faithful every step of the way? He's not going to abandon us now. 

I love that man. 

We sat and talked for a long time after that, both realizing we had the same fears, but also realizing that this isn't a journey we can walk alone.  And it was then that I realized some very important things:

1. I'll never stop worrying about these babies.  I'll never stop wanting what's best for them.  I'll never stop longing to protect and insulate them from all the pain and trial this world has to offer.  And I think that's okay.  But I also realized that all that worrying isn't going to do me a darn bit of good.  Because, let's face it--as much as I love them and want to insulate them....I can't.  There's nothing I can do.  I have to give them over, wholly and completely, to the One who knew them before He ever placed them in my womb.  I have to trust that He has already numbered all of their days, and I have to know, deep in my soul, that as much as I love them....it doesn't and never will compare to His love for them. 

Phew.  That's hard...but God's leading me through this one, and I'm determined to follow.

2. I need to stop assuming that my pregnancy will conform to what other people may experience.  I need to stop wishing for symptoms (lately, praying for morning sickness....I think that might be a sickness in itself) and neglecting to give thanks for God's faithfulness, and the easy ride I've had so far.   I need to remember that God has already given me so much to be grateful for--first and foremost, a pregnancy that we prayed for, dreamed of, and waited over a year to be blessed with--but also for two separate beta tests that revealed hCG levels that were not just present, but that were in the high range for normal.  And let's not forget that our due date is five years to the day after Adam proposed.  These things are not coincidences.  God knows what a worrier I can be, and I know He has given me all these signs to say look, little one, I'm here and I don't want you to be afraid.  Just trust me!  What a blessing, that in my weakness, He is strong....



So now, we wait.  And we trust.  Our first ultrasound is Monday morning, and at that appointment we'll be able to see the sac, the little tiny baby, and hear the heartbeat.  I'm still praying for two babies.  That's how many we put in, and that's how many we want out. 

Between now and then, Adam and I come to you again asking for your prayers.  First and foremost, for our babies.  We ask you to join us in praying God's protection over them as they develop and grow. 

But we also ask you to pray for us, as parents.  That we may learn, each day, to give up more of who we are in favor of who we are becoming in Christ.  We ask you to pray for peace, that we may feel it and know it deep in our soul, and for trust as we commit these precious, tiny lives to the Father. 

We still have a lot to learn, but the three of us (Adam, me, and our Savior) are going to keep walking this road together......one step at a time. 

"I lift up my eyes to the hills—
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth."

Psalms 12:1-2

One more thing....

Today, Adam and I realized something that was pretty amazing.

Our due date, 8/24/2011, is exactly five years from the day that Adam asked me to marry him (8/24/2006).  Can I get an amen?

I don't know how I managed to miss that for a good solid week, but when it hit me today I couldn't help but laugh out loud as I thanked God for his incredible faithfulness.  Seriously.  How cool is that?  All my silly little plans, all my prayers that started with "you know God, this would be a GREAT month for a baby, because nine months from now is...."  and now this.  I couldn't have picked a more perfect day to welcome a baby into the world, and of course, God knew that all along.  He has (again) revealed His sovereignty and faithfulness in my life.  What a mighty God we serve!!!

"May Your unfailing love be my comfort, according to Your promise to your servant."

Psalms 119:6

Catching Up

This post is going to be my attempt at catching up on all the excitement of the past few weeks.  And prepare yourselves...because it's a long one!!  

I'm starting (instead of ending) with a prayer request..because this post is long, and if you read nothing else I want you to read this!!

Prayer Request

Adam and I knew from the beginning of this process that we would not wait until after the first trimester to share the news of our pregnancy.  How could we?  We’ve asked you to pray with us and to walk this journey alongside us.  We have been so touched at how deeply so many of you have felt this right alongside us.  Not just the low moments, but also the incredible highs.  My heart was so full of love on Thursday, even before we found out, as I read your texts, emails and comments sharing your own excitement and anticipation of the results we had yet to receive.  You have felt this with us, and we are touched.
 

As of today, I’ve five weeks along.  I know that qualifies me as just a teeny-tiny bit pregnant.   I also know that the first trimester can be a dangerous time for growing babies.  And so, our greatest prayer request is that you just cover (smother!) our babies with prayers.  That you join us in praying God’s protection over them as they grow and mature inside of me, and that they be delivered safely into our waiting arms in August.  

Adam and I have claimed this verse for these babies, and have been praying it over them every night:

“He tends to His flock like a shepherd, He gathers the little lambs in His arms, He carries them close to His heart.” Isaiah 40:11

Will you join us in praying that God will gather these little lambs in His arms and carry them close to His heart?  That His mercy and grace will cover their lives from head to toe, and that He will guarantee their continued health and safety over the next 8 months?

Fertilization Report

On Tuesday, December 7^th we got our final fertilization report.   

Apparently the first time around there had a bit of a miscommunication, because out of the 15 that fertilized, the 13 babies we thought had made it to culture was actually only 12.  The others had never divided.

Those 12 were then placed in culture for five days.  On the day of our transfer (culture day 5), we had two blastocysts that were healthy and strong and ready for a shot in the baby-maker!  Those are the two that were transferred, and we now know, (at least one) attached to the uterine wall. 

At that time, the embryologist told us that we had several that had not divided since day 2.  She explained that they had “arrested”—meaning, they were no longer growing.  She also told us that we had a few others that had begun to degenerate; again, they were no longer dividing.  We also had some that looked great—that were on the verge of becoming blasts and were healthy and happy in their culture environment. 

After talking about it with our doctor, we decided to hold the “on the verge” embryos in culture for an extra two days to see if they would divide any further.  Adam and I made it clear that any division—and we didn’t care if we were talking one cell a week—indicated a living baby and we were determined to give it a shot at life.  The embryologist told us it was “improbable” that these babies would ever attach and be born.  We told her our God is the miracle-maker, and as long as these babies are dividing, they are alive and precious to us.  She agreed to do as we had asked, and freeze any baby that was dividing...regardless of how fast.

Two days after the transfer, we got the call with the final fertilization report.  Originally, our doctor had told us to expect that about 1/3 of the fertilized embryos would make it to be transferred and/or frozen.  That is just the natural atrophy rate that they undergo.  For us, out of our original 12 in culture, we transferred two and froze four….for a total of 6. 

When I got that news, I immediately felt hot little tears running down my face.  I was thrilled with the healthy embryos (all four that were frozen had made it to blasts) but was also mourning the loss of our other precious babies.  I was already in love with them.   

I called Adam, who called OHSU, and we asked for more information about those that we’d lost.  I wanted to know everything about their lives, and everything about how they had died.  We learned that three had degenerated to the point where no cell division was happening, and the embryo itself was losing its cellular integrity. The other three had all arrested—they were held in culture until day 7 (at our request), and those three hadn’t divided since day 2.   That gave us the closure we needed.  We believe that life begins at conception, and because we believe that, we also believe that God has already welcomed these precious babies back into His arms….and someday, when we get to heaven, we’ll meet them.  Between now and then, I rest in the knowledge that they are in the presence of their Father.  And I've asked Him to give them a giant hug from us. 

So now here we are.  We’ve got babies (hopefully two) in the oven, and four in the frozen nursery.  We pray for all six of those babies on a daily basis, and we ask that you join us. 

December 16, 2010

As you already know, December 16^th was a day that forever changed our lives.

At 7:30AM, we had an appointment at OHSU to have blood drawn.  It was a quick appointment—just a needle stick—and then we were headed back to Salem with the understanding that we would hear the news (pregnant or not pregnant) after 2PM. 

Adam and I both went to work.  Since we wouldn’t hear until late in the afternoon, there was no reason to take the whole day off.  Instead, we both took a half-day, and after a very anxious morning, I picked up Adam from work and we went and had lunch.  By the time we had finished eating, it was a little after 1, and before heading home we decided to take a drive and tour the tornado damage in and around Aumsville.  We had just gotten into Shaw (about five minutes from our house) when my phone started to ring.  It was only 1:46.  My heart was pounding out of chest. 

It was OHSU.

I frantically told Adam to pull the car over, and as soon as it was in park, I thrust my phone into his hands and told him he had to answer.  From the moment he picked up the phone, I knew it was good news. 

Is this Adam?

Yes

Adam, this is Christie.  I have your test results.  Are you ready…?

(deep breath, eyes locked with mine) We’re ready

Mandy’s pregnant!!!

(tears, tears, and more tears)

She gave us some other information—my beta level was 144 and my progesterone level was 20 (both good)—and made another appointment for a second blood test to check my levels the following Monday. 

But I wasn’t really paying attention to any of that, because I had just found out I was pregnant.   

Adam hung up the phone, we prayed prayers of thanksgiving—tears falling, hearts soaring, love abounding—and held each other for a long moment.  What precious time.  After more than a year of waiting, hoping and praying…our Almighty God, in His goodness and love, absolutely delivered.  He walked us through the valley and put our feet on top of the mountain.  He is worthy of ALL our praise!!

After that, we needed to tell our family.  I had told my parents the week before that I was taking a half-day so that I could surprise Adam with the news while he was at work.  However, in reality, this was a set-up so Adam and I could surprise my parents with the news.  Since this process hasn’t exactly been secretive, it was really the only way we’d have the opportunity to announce our pregnancy. 

The first phone call I made was to my mom.  She was out shopping.  I told her that I didn’t want to get the call from OHSU all alone, and asked if she would meet me at my parent’s house to wait it out with me.  Of course she agreed. 

Then, we drove to my dad’s office.  Adam called him and told him I was having car trouble at school—something about the alternator—and asked if he could borrow my dad’s truck to go help me out (we carpool to work).  Of course my dad agreed, and said he’d meet Adam in the parking lot to hand off the keys.  When he came out of the building, I was standing in the bushes and Adam was on the opposite side.  He saw Adam immediately.  As he handed Adam the keys, he started asking about what was wrong with the car and offering his jumper cables…..

The whole time he was talking, Adam was grinning at him with this stupid grin on his face. 

I think my dad was starting to wonder what was up, and he looked over his shoulder to see what Adam kept looking at.  That’s when he saw me.  He knew immediately.  He enveloped me in his arms as we told him he was going to be a grandpa.  What a special, precious moment.

Then we drove to my parent’s house to meet my mom.  We decided that I would go in first, and after a few minutes, Adam would follow.   So I went inside, found my mom at the kitchen table, and started chatting with her about the day.  She was so anxious and excited to hear the news. 

We had just started discussing whether or not we should do some shopping while we waited when Adam walked in the door.  My mom knew immediately.  She screamed, cried, and held us both in gigantic hugs. 

After we had celebrated a while, my mom informed me with a smile that she had already known.  She said she had been driving to the dog groomer earlier in the day when tears just started rolling down her face.  She knew then.  God has told her, placed in on her heart, that I was pregnant. 

It was such a gift to be able to celebrate with my precious parents.

After that, it was a whirlwind of phone calls.  I had been desperately trying to get hold of my brother at work, and Adam had been busy calling all of his family and filling them in.  Everyone was excited.  We felt so blessed and so loved. 

Recent Updates

On Monday, we were back up at OHSU at 7:30 to have everything confirmed with a second blood test.  They wanted to see my hormone levels rising appropriately, and just like last time, told us we’d get the news after 2PM.  

We were thrilled to find out that my hormone levels had risen from 144 on Thursday to 754 on Monday.  They were only looking to see a 60% increase from Thursday to Monday, and clearly, we exceeded that. 

Now we are anxiously anticipating 10AM on January 3^rd, when we will hear the heartbeat and see how many babies are currently in the oven.  We’re praying for two—that’s how many we put in, and that’s how many we want out!

The harvest

There are moments in life that literally take your breath away. Moments that you know, no matter what else happens in your life, you will never forget.

For me, the first was the day Adam proposed.  I can remember everything about that magical night, right down to the clothes I wore and the way he squeezed my hand extra hard as we made our way up to the lighthouse.

The next was our wedding day.  Nothing will ever match the feeling of JOY I felt as I stood before all our friends and family, in the sight of our Lord and Savior, and took vows and made promises to last my whole life through.   

And the latest?

Getting the phone call that we’ve been praying for and dreaming of for over a year and a half.   

We’re going to be parents. 

Oh the joy!!

Thank you for praying, for loving on us, and for feeling this right along with us.  We are so touched.  We ask now that you keep praying.  This feels so much like the finish line, but I’m only four weeks pregnant and these babies are just beginning their journey into our arms.  Please join us in covering them in our prayers—praying for their protection and continued health and safety.  We’re so in love.

We have scheduled our ultrasound to hear the heartbeat (and see how many babies we’ll be welcoming into our arms) on December 30^th. 

I have so much to say, so many feelings I want to express…but for now, I just want to give praise.

And this is my prayer in the harvest

When mercy and providence flow

I know I’m filled to be emptied again

The seed I’ve received I will sow

We are so thankful for the precious, precious gift we have been given.  God has entrusted us with a life.  It's humbling.  It brings us to our knees.

More to come....

Without futher ado....

.....I'd like to introduce you to my babies!!!

This will be the first photo in the baby books.  Miraculous.  If you blow the picture up and look right where the tip of the arrow is pointing, there is a tiny white dot....those are our babies!

Pregnancy test the week of Christmas.....no better present than THAT!

Please join us in covering our precious babies (inside the womb and out!) in PRAYER!

A letter to my babies

To my precious, precious babies,

You don’t know this, but I’ve been writing letters to you for years. 

The first time was right after daddy and I were married, when we were living in our 900-square foot condo and would sit together on the couch, laughing and dreaming about the future we’d create together. 

I started writing letters to you way back then, because I wanted you to know that you were already part of those dreams.  We could never have imagined a world without you in it.  We loved you even then.  

It’s important that you know that, because it’s important that you know how much we’ve always, always wanted you.  We planned for you from the very beginning. 

As your mommy, I’ve been dreaming of you my whole life.  I’ve dreamed of counting your ten tiny little fingers and toes, I’ve longed to hear what your giggle will sound like, and my arms have ached with the emptiness of waiting to hold you.  I’ve wondered how your daddy’s big, beautiful blue eyes will look on a tiny baby, and I’ve smiled in sweet anticipation of you inheriting his silly sense of humor.  God has blessed you richly, little one, in the gift of such a wonderful, loving daddy.  I can’t wait for you to meet him.   

I smile as I anticipate experiencing all your firsts.  I can’t wait to comfort you when you cry, to see my own incredible joy reflected on your face every time our eyes meet, and to watch you grow into the person God made you to be.  

I just can’t imagine loving you more than I already do, and I haven’t even met you yet.  When that day finally arrives, oh the joy that will fill my heart. 

Our journey to you didn’t go as we had originally planned in those early days of marriage, but as we look back now, we wouldn’t change a thing.   The path we’ve traveled has been bumpy and filled with heartache, but it was also filled with joy.  As we look back, we can see that it was the potholes along the way that have made our journey to you so beautiful. 

God’s plan has been perfect. 

He has walked us through the heartache of your absence—of waiting for you, praying for you, and fighting for you.  There were moments of pain and tears that will only be overshadowed by the joy we feel when you’re finally in our arms.  That’s the sweetest anticipation I’ve ever know, little one. 

December 1, 2010 was your conception day.  I’ve been calling this your Hope Day—the day that God blessed us with the hope of you.  I want to celebrate it with you each year of your life, I want to tell you about our journey—your journey--and I want to encourage you with the love of so many who have prayed for you for so long before your birth. 

You are precious to us, and our hearts yearn for you.  We will love you all the days of your life.    

Even now, as we await your birthday, we pray daily for God’s protection over you—that He will bless your little lives and deliver you safely into our waiting arms.

We can't wait to meet you.

With all of our love,

your parents

Forever Changed

We got the call.  We're parents.  I can't explain that joy.......

Here's the run down:

Of the 46 eggs they harvested from me yesterday, only 15 were mature.

I just have to pause here and give some praise.  46 eggs and 15 were mature.  Not 14, not 16, but exactly fifteen.  Fifteen was the maximum number of eggs we had agreed to inseminate based on what we believe and based on our commitment to each embryo as a baby.  What an awesome God we serve!! If only 20 eggs had been collected, as our doctor anticipated, we wouldn't have ended up with enough for insemination.  I thought 46 was overkill, but God knew the perfect number.  Thank you sweet Jesus.

Our doctor expected that if we inseminated 15, we might end up with around 8 that fertilized and became embryos, and when all was said and done, we'd take maybe two or three babies home from the hospital....and he thought that would be a generous estimate. That accounts for embryos that (just like in nature) will stop dividing and are no longer alive and growing, as well as those that are transferred but (just like in nature) never attach to the uterine wall.

So, when we got the call this morning that all fifteen had fertilized, I just about hit the floor.  That's a 100% success rate right there.

Shortly thereafter, were told that two of the embryos did not make it to culture.  That means that they did not survive to make it to their own little home-away-from-home for the next 48ish hours until the transfer.  We mourn the loss of those babies--our babies--and pray that God will envelop them back into His arms, since ours will never get to hold them.  I know that God's plan is perfect, and we simultaneously rejoice in the 13 that are now growing.  We are committed to each and every one of them.  Their shot at life is guaranteed, because we'll come back for them all.

And I'm a mom.  Adam is a dad.  Those are OUR babies--half of me, and half of the man I love.  They're ours, no matter what the outcome.  I've waited so long for this, and the feeling I have just knowing that they're there, waiting for me, brings me to my knees.  Nothing compares.  Nothing.  It's joy like I've never known.  God has been so faithful to us, and His hand ever-present in this whole process. Thank you Lord. 

Our most fervent prayer, for now and for always, is for our babies.  Please join us in praying God's protection over these sweet little ones that are now growing and waiting for their chance at life.  Some of them will wait longer than others, and we ask you to join us in praying that God will "gather the little lambs in His arms, and carry them close to His heart" as He promises to do in Isaiah 40:11.  They are precious to us, just as they are to God. 

Those are our babies.  All 13 of them.  And we are in love.

December 1, 2010

Happy Conception Day to my babies!!!  As I type this, there are baby Breitensteins growing and dividing and waiting for the chance to be born.  We are SO committed to giving it to them. I keep thinking about their little lives.....I am wholly, completely in love.  <3

Today went well.  God is SO faithful, and we continue to be in awe of his mercies that are ever new.   I woke up this morning with excitement and joy.  We felt your prayers just surrounding us, and we were both so at peace as the whole thing got underway.  Thank you.  We love our doctor, and know that God has placed him in our lives for a reason.  We also got to meet the lab doctor who will actually be making our babies--what a kind gentleman he was.  I shook his hand and told him to take good care of my precious little ones :)

Our doctor had expected to get 20 or so eggs to choose from, but when it was all said and done he ended up extracting a whopping 46.  The anesthesiologist said is the most she'd ever seen taken out of one person! Obviously, they aren't going to use all of those to create 46 embryos, but what it DOES mean is that they'll get to choose the very best ones to make our babies <3 We are expecting a call tomorrow telling us how many embryos fertilized, and then sometime between Saturday and Tuesday they will be transferred back to my baby-maker.  Amen and hallelujah!!

Right now, I'm lying in my comfy bed with my two four-legged babies sprawled out beside me.  My wonderful husband had been an absolute saint today, catering to my every whim and making sure I'm taking all my medications at the right time.  I feel good (admittedly due to some pretty sweet pain meds) but a little uncomfortable.  Because they took so many eggs, my doctor asked me to spend the day in bed to make sure I don't develop hyperstimulated ovaries.   At the moment, they kind of feel like beach balls with little spikes on the outside.  But, like I said, all is well in the world once I pop that pain pill :) A little loopy and a lot tired, but good.  And don't worry, I spell checked this three times to make sure you aren't a victim of my sloppy typing today :)

But I don't even care about all of that.  I'd do it over again in a heartbeat.  Why? 

Because Adam and I made babies today.