Thursday, September 29, 2011

The Persistence of Thoughts

The kids run, they play, they laugh. I watch, I listen, I giggle.

Inside, I wonder: Will they be it for me? Is my body done?

I have no way to know.  No fortune-teller reading my palm and telling me, with an honest conviction, what my future holds--kid, kids, and more kids.

My womb, it's empty.  My heart, it's aching.

Have I tempted fate too much? When is too much?  Two children, three miscarriages, what now?  Do I stop?  Do I wait?  Do I hope?

Prayer.  Sometimes I wish I could rely on God, but He has let me down.  Too often.  With the idea that if I do as He asks, certain blessings will follow.  I did--still do--but I know the truth and can no longer be fooled.  It is much easier to believe in a higher power in the Universe than to believe in a God that allows so much pain and hurt--not just in my life, in those around me, in those women and men's lives that I don't know around the world.  The suffering of the children from hunger, abandonment, rape, and so much more.

I prayed my heart out.  I had blessings--several.  All pointed to something I thought I heard: I was doing the right thing and would soon be holding a healthy baby.

Wrong.  Three times over.

But, in my heart, I want a baby--babies--still.  The chaos, the messes, the crazy days are what I crave. I am in a better place, much more mentally and emotionally stable; however, when does it become over-kill (excuse the unintentional pun)? When does one stop? Miscarriages, pregnancies, all these things are not easy--on the body or the psyche.  Is it worth it to drive me to the brink of insanity, a place in which I am teetering on the edge already?

A fortune-teller.  That is what I need.  With other things in my life--employment, school, and growing--I have at least a basic outline.  I know things can change, on a whim, but those changes will be relatively expected.  I do not know, unfortunately, what our family size will be; it is unrealistic, and a bit silly, to expect that I, of all the infertile women, will have the gift of a healthy pregnancy soon.  See, there is a possibility that I will, but there is a possibility that I won't.  And that is the truth, a place I would rather be than to misplace my expectations on a slim chance.  I mean, I did tell myself that if I had a third miscarriage, I would not try anymore because the pain would be too intense for me to try again.

This is where I wish I could be okay with my two kids.  I am happy with them, overjoyed that they are in our family; however, I can't shake the feeling that there is an empty space, empty spaces, that need filled.  I want it to go away, beg that it will go away. Instead, I remember my dreams, my hopes, my desires, and those memories refuse to desist in haunting me.

Possibilities in life are endless, but sometimes I wish I could just know the outcome for one thing.


  1. Not Knowing is one of my biggest challenges too. I am a planner, a worrier, an organizer, and I just can't deal with not being able to know the outcome of any given plan. I have no answers, just empathy for your journey. You are an amazing woman, mom, thinker. I hope the next step presents itself to you without any further anxiety or heartache.

  2. I don't believe in fortune tellers, Amber. But I do believe in you.

    I understand the ache; you know my story. You know I wanted more children. You know there was an "almost," but so late. Too late.

    Whatever comes, you can create beauty and meaning. And you have so much time ahead, still. Small comfort on the days when the emptiness is cruelly overflowing. But on the other days, perhaps that knowledge will ease things a little bit.

  3. Sometimes I wish I could rely on God, but He has let me down.

    Oh, no, no, no. Never. Remember evil and suffering in the world is the result of OUR choice -- mankind's choice -- to bring original sin into the world. God allowed it because He respected our free will and didn't want us to be mindless puppets.

    I really, really recommend C.S. Lewis' "The Problem of Pain" and "A Grief Observed". Also Peter Kreeft's "Making Sense of Suffering" - there's an excerpt here.

    When we suffer, God suffers with us. He doesn't cause our suffering; He allows it out of respect for our free will.

  4. Have the doctors been able to tell you anything? I always find that the more I know, the better I cope, even when the coping is precarious and fleeting. I don't know how it will all turn out, Amber, but I wish you peace, above all else.

  5. Maybe I will come back to this, Joanna. At the moment, though, there is too much anger and pain directed up to see this.

  6. I am with you, knowledge gives me peace--even if it's something I don't really want to hear. But, in this case, there really aren't answers. Just the counsel to "try again," and "this is probably a random occurrence."

  7. Wouldn't it be nice if it were as simple as "if you are good, then you get ___(your choice of prize)___." Life just really sucks sometimes, especially when we feel cheated or lied to. I feel similar things, though the brunt of my anger is directed towards my dad and it's really hard to find the the direction I can mentally go with this. But life was meant to be a challenge, that much I know.

    I really hope things stabilize enough for you soon. Mental illness is so trying.

  8. Amber, wouldn't it be great if we could plan and create exactly the life we envision exactly how we wish it to be? That emptiness can be overwhelming, unbearable. Two thoughts - give it time. Allow your body to heal from the trauma of miscarriage and your mind to find some peace. Then think more. You are young, there is time for so many different choices. Even if - and it sounds like an if from the medical side- you cannot have more children from your womb, there are so many, so many who need love. There is no mandate in this that you cannot have the family you hope for. It just may be different then your vision. That in no way negates the powerful feelings you're having.
    Big hugs to you!

  9. I have been trying to think of some wise and comforting thing to say all day, but I got nothing. All I can say is that I'm sorry. It is hard to not know what the future has in store. Especially when you want something so badly. I wish you well while you try to make it through such difficult times.

  10. We're beginning the process of foster care. It's been in the back of my mind for a long time and it just feels right. You could look into it, too.

  11. I'm purely curious... have you thought about adopting?

  12. I often wish for a fortune teller too...I'm sorry you're struggling with this.

  13. Oh, I know it's heartbreaking - not through my own experiences, but friends. You have to decide what you can take, emotionally and physically, and what your family can take...big hugs!!!

  14. I understand this, Amber, though I haven't struggled with it personally. My best friend is currently healing from her second miscarriage in a year after at least 5 years of trying to get pregnant at all. The first miscarriage was at 4 weeks, the second at 15 weeks. She said to me: "Each time, I carry longer. Surely soon I'll carry to term." The loss is heart breaking, but she refuses to give up hope. I don't know how she reconciles it, except that she has no choice lest she give up her dream of carrying a child. I'll just say to you what I say to her: I'm so sorry.

  15. I came across this talk while at work, and thought about your situation. President Uchtdorf gave it last week at the General Relief Society Broadcast. I think it has a little something for everyone.

  16. Amber -- I know about the empty spaces... An hour ago I was balling on the couch, thinking I should have an almost one year old crawling around, tugging on the puppy's ears. I worry that this empty space will always be there - always waiting to be filled.
    I hope there are more babies in your future.. I'm sorry for your pain, so deeply sorry.

  17. This is so well written. And I sadly also have no wisdom to impart, but I hope that you'll find peace in whatever happens.


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