Checking in Emotionally

I don't deal with disappointment very well. In fact, it may be one of my biggest hang ups.

I actually don't get too genuinely excited about a lot of things, with grand ideas of how I want things to play out on a day-to-day basis. So, when I am excited, when I'm really looking forward to something, I get pretty ticked off when it doesn't come together.

Our trip to Europe was an excellent example of that. At the time, we were living in this teeny tiny place, not doing any infertility treatments, so we had some money to be able to travel. I felt like this was a once in a lifetime chance to see some really cool places, and I had a few particular things I was super excited about. The Louvre, for example, was definitely at the top of the list. We were literally running through that enormous museum, trying to see everything that was there, because I'm so determined to soak up us much as we can in all that we do. My dear sweet husband went along with all of our running, bless his heart.

One of the things I was excited about was the palace at Versailles. There are incredible gardens there and they have an amazing display of fountains all throughout the gardens. But they only turn the fountains on at certain times during the day. Once again, we were high-tailing it so we could make it in time to see the fountains turn on in all their glory. Instead, we got there just in time to see them turn off the fountains! I looked at my Versailles brochure and realized I'd messed up the times! My chance to see the fountains was gone.

I was so upset. I cried. I kicked at the ground. I said some words that I'm not supposed to say. I wanted to yell at everyone I passed and tell them this place sucked for turning on their fountains for a measly half hour every day! Yes, I had a full-blown adult-sized tantrum.

Good thing I don't have high expectations about a lot of things, huh?

I'm not proud of that. Not at all. I've really tried to temper my... temper. I try to keep expectations low, try to get the most I can out of something, even if it didn't work out like I'd planned. I try to act instead of react, to think long-term and ask if it's worth it to get so worked up over it. Not to say that I succeed, but I do make an effort knowing that it's one of my weaknesses.

As you can imagine, my skills in handling disappointment were tested more than ever when I decided to do in vitro. And we're not talking about fountains, we're talking about family, about life, about our own children.

Last time, when I ended up with eight embryos, I imagined my whole family was right there just waiting to happen. Statistics said I should have about two or three, even four, of those embryos turn into babies! Sweet deal!

I remember when I first got pregnant. We'd already been through so much disappointment that I figured this was it! We were done with that. We could finally be happy because I was pregnant now and we were going to have a baby. That dream materialized in my mind.

And then I lost it. I lost the pregnancy. And then another. And another. Six of those eight embryos didn't turn into children, they turned into heartache.

Coming away from all that, from all my miscarriages, from being let down again and again, I've learned one big lesson. Life is neither predictable nor fair. This is especially true with infertility.

It doesn't matter how badly you want it. It doesn't matter how much you deserve it. It doesn't matter how hard you pray, how faithful you are, how optimistic you are, or whether you're a good person. It doesn't matter if you've already been through the ringer. It doesn't matter if all signs points to a good outcome, if you have good reason to hope or if you have very little.

When it comes to making a baby, there is nothing I can do to make that happen. I cannot pray myself a baby, worry myself a baby, or hope myself a baby.

All I can do is wait and accept God's will.

The hard part is in knowing that God's will is not always easy. Not by a long shot. And I'm not a firm believer that everything in life happens for a reason. But, I do believe that we are on a journey that extends far beyond this life on Earth, that we are learning things here that we will carry with us, that are shaping us for things to come. And I trust that God knows me better than I do, that His vision extends far beyond mine.

Yeah, I would love to have a baby right now. Yeah, I really want to have more kids, to have a bigger family, and for Gavin to have some siblings. But for me and for my husband, we cannot know our journey here and how we will be shaped by it.

If it doesn't work out, then yes, I will be kicking at the dirt, crying and angry. I will pound my fists and wonder why in the world this has to be so doggone hard. I will be a little angry at the heavens and ask, "Is there no other way? Why must my suffering be so great!?"

But perhaps I am helping someone, either now or in the future, through my infertility journey. Perhaps our path will lead us somewhere we never expected and will bring us a joy we never knew existed. Perhaps my quest for children, and the enormity of that financial burden, will lead me to work at a job I'd never have considered, and will open up other doors for us, expand my horizons, and help shape me and those around me. Perhaps my own path will turn a different direction and I will go on to be more than a mother, but a woman who has the time and talent to shape others, to influence them for good.

And perhaps my life will continue to be hard and confusing and I will not know the purpose of my trials or the scope of my growth until after this life.

There's a famous scripture in the Book of Mormon that urges us to "...becometh as a child, submissive, meek, humble, patient, full of love, willing to submit to all things which the Lord seeth fit to inflict upon him, even as a child doth submit to his father."

That is where I am right now. I am far from patient, humble, meek, and full of love. But my trials have brought me to my knees and I have submitted. I submit my life to God because I cannot know what is best for me more than He does. It's not easy. In fact, it's downright scary because I know what the Father IS willing to submit me to and I hate to think that He wants to test me further! But all I can do is hope and trust.

As for this pregnancy, I am calm because I expect nothing. As a woman who does not take disappointment well, as a woman who has learned that nothing with infertility is fair or predictable, as a woman of faith who has learned that you don't always get what you think you deserve or desire, I have come to expect nothing.

I know that sounds depressing. It would be more exciting if I were to tell you all that I just have a good feeling that this is all going to work out and I'm going to get pregnant and have a baby and we'll be a happy family of two! Gosh, I would love with all my heart to be able to say that. But oh, how terribly sad if it didn't work out. I do still hope because, as I said, this is all unpredictable and things could go either way. But I cannot let myself build up an expectation that this will be easy, that we deserve things to go smoothly, that my body knows how to have a baby now, that the embryos looked good, or any of that.

Right now, I know there are people who are worried about me, who worry that I am stressing, obsessing, or whatever else. But there's really no expectation at all except for life to continue on as it has been. And ya know what, I thought for sure I would not even get pregnant with Gavin. I thought for sure his pregnancy would fall apart. And it all worked out. Like I said, my expectations mean nothing so I'm good with expecting nothing and hoping to be pleasantly surprised.

After learning about my embryo count, I was sad and disappointed. I cried while I wrote to you all about my anticipation and my huge let down, that only one embryo had survived. I thought I was safe in expecting only two. Still, in the disappointment department, I handled it pretty well and was feeling better by the end of the day.

One thing that helped was a song I heard on the radio, "A Thousand Years" by Christina Perri, which is the song on our video about us having Gavin. It made me think of him, think of all we went through, how we finally got success, and I felt that reassurance that this journey is worth it. Yes, there's a possibility that we will go through a whole lot more heartache before we get there, but I believe we can make it if we persevere, and if we can work hard enough to somehow fund it all. It was a friendly reminder of the blessing we have in our life and that more blessings may be in store.