Chasing hope.

It hurts to have hope.

I feel like I have been on such a roller coaster of emotions lately.  Normally, I'm pretty even-keeled, but life has thrown so many curveballs over the last year or so that I sometimes don't know what to do.

Another dreaded phone call came yesterday.  You'd think that we would be used to these by now, but I still feel like I'm going to be sick every time.  After my surgery a couple of weeks ago, we started to hope again.  Everything on my end was clear.  I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I started imagining how we could tell our families that I was pregnant.  Except that I probably won't be.

"Mrs. Fenrick?  We have the test results from your husband's surgery.  Do you have a pen and some paper so that you can write down some numbers?"

Scribbling madly as I tried to cram lunch down my throat on the way to work, I was only halfway listening.  I was so certain that the odds would be in our favor.  And then the pen dropped, I was looking through blurry eyes at the red traffic light ahead, and I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie.  I know that wasn't the news you wanted to hear."

After Andrew's surgery in April, we were told to wait several months to determine whether or not it was successful.  Not only was it not successful, but his condition is actually far worse than it was prior to surgery.  No, not the news we wanted to hear, especially after the miracle on my end. 

IVF is an option...for people who have fat stacks of cash just sitting around (not us).  I'm not sure we would try it even if we did have the money.

What I want more than anything at this point is not even a baby.  I just want peace.  I want it to stop hurting so bad.

A lot of people have asked us how they can help.  That's a tough question to answer, because there isn't a lot that anyone can do.  The most meaningful words are often, "I'm sorry," "That really stinks," "I love you," "I'm praying for you," or, "I don't understand it either."  Thanks for asking us how we're doing, and mostly for just being present in our lives.  Nothing is more lonely and scary than feeling like no one cares.  Thankfully, we have never felt that that is the case.

On the other hand, some words are very difficult to hear.  I am so glad that people have amazing pregnancy stories when doctors told them that their chances of conceiving were impossible.  However, that doesn't happen for everyone, and it may not happen for us.  I do think that one day, our story will have a beautiful ending, but that ending may not be pregnancy.  I don't want to hold onto false hope and wrap my mind around something that may never come to fruition. 

And finally, a quick word on abortion, because it has been heavy on my mind (and we're on the subject of babies).  You had better believe that I am against abortion, as someone who wants a baby.  But I am often not for the approaches taken in opposing it.  On a personal note, I have to say that when unborn children and babies become such a valuable commodity, to the point that all other issues are ignored, it sure does make people who are unable to have children (like us) feel small and insignificant, as if we have nothing to contribute to society.

More importantly, though, there must be other issues that matter aside from abortion.  Life outside the womb must be just as highly esteemed as life within it.  Why don't we do more to care about kids in DHS custody or foster care?  I'm not sure if you've noticed, but that is a pretty messed up system in Oklahoma.  Why don't we value the lives of kids with special needs more?  Why don't we help children, women, and men who are being abused in ways that I can only imagine?  Why don't we look for ways to give to the public school system, where so many children and teens spend their time?  Why don't we care about the story of that woman who is walking through the doors of Planned Parenthood?  These are people, too, and people matter.  Life is valuable in the womb, yes.  But please, let's be just as careful to value and protect the lives of those right next to us.

I could say more, but I'll leave it at that for now. 

Restless

It has become very apparent to me in recent days that I do not know how to rest.

I know, resting seems like it should come naturally.  Not for me.  Two days after my surgery, I went back to work and was already freaking out about laundry, behavior intervention plans, catching up on lesson plans, and cleaning our "dirty" house. (If you've ever been to our house, you've probably noticed that I have some OCD tendencies when it comes to cleaning.)  Four days after surgery, I set out to run 18 miles.  (My body quit after seven.)  It has now been two weeks since the operation, and I'm back to working 60-70 hour weeks, running 4-5 times per week, and trying to somehow fit in all of the other things that every "good wife" does. 

I lost my keys a couple of days ago, only to find them in my running shoes. This morning, I got almost 15 minutes away from the house before realizing that not only had I left my lunch in the fridge, but I also wasn't wearing any shoes.  Do you think I'm trying to do too much? 

Why do important things often seem so urgent?

Why are our friends/significant others often better judges of our own stress levels than we are?

Why can't I just...slow...down?

I'm not sure of the answers to any of those questions.  I'm just hoping to find some sort of balance.  Work is important, but I don't want to be defined by my job.  Running is good for me, but maybe not when my body is in recovery mode.  A clean house is wonderful, but no one feels very comfortable in a museum.     

Sometimes, I get mad at Andrew for sitting on the couch and watching a show instead of running around like a chicken with his head cut off.  I often think that everyone should operate in the same way that I do, and that people are lazy if they do not.  This, I realize, is unfair and ridiculous (and my mode of operation doesn't work well anyway).

Resting.  I want this to happen more often.  For starters, I backed out of the marathon that I was supposed to run in November.  If you know me at all, that is sad and disappointing... and also a huge step in the right direction. 

 

 

A Miracle

Disclaimer:  I'm still a little groggy from surgery, so I'm hoping this blog won't sound totally crazy.  Andrew jokingly told me that I should have blogged yesterday, when I was still under the influence of all kinds of pain meds and anesthesia.  I have no idea what might have come out of my mouth then (and still really don't know what might come out today).

***
Saturday, 11/26/11.
(a prayer from my journal)

"Take the dearest things to me if that's how it must be,
To draw me closer to Thee
Let the disappointments come, lonely days without the sun
If through sorrow, more like You I'll become."

*** 

There have been so many days in the past year when I wish that I never would have prayed that prayer.  Little did I know that almost everything in which I placed my trust would be ripped out of my hands.  And when that happened, I stopped praying altogether.

Lately, I've started praying again.  Simple, childlike prayers.  (God, I need help.)  Honest prayers.  (Lord, I have no idea where you are or if you care.)  Sometimes angry prayers.  (Why does it have to be THIS hard?!)  Desperate prayers.  (I just want all of this to go away.)  Not always the prayers you're "supposed" to pray (like, "I am so thankful for this big mess because I know it's all for my good!").  I pray the things that come from my heart, like David did in the Psalms, and I am becoming more and more convinced that He hears.

What happened yesterday in the operating room is nothing short of a miracle, and honestly the last thing I was expecting.  Andrew came in afterward and said, "Babe, great news!  You're fine!  The problem is gone."  Just like that.  Big tears rolled down my cheeks, and for the first time in a long time, they were tears of relief and joy.  I don't know if this automatically means that I will be able to get/stay pregnant now, but it is certainly the best news we've gotten since this whole process began almost two years ago.           

The pieces of the puzzle are slowly starting to fit together for me.  Six months ago, no one could have convinced me that they would.  People's words are meaningless unless, in your own heart of hearts, you actually believe them.  I'm scared that maybe things still won't work out the way I had planned, but perhaps what I plan and what I actually need are not always the same thing.

In November last year, I prayed for God to increase my faith.  In his own way and time, he has.  I'm not the same person I was, and that's actually a good thing.  I don't like being stuck in a pit or being dragged through the mud, and maybe I have more pits ahead.  But somehow, and I can't even explain how I know this to be true, He is there.  Thanks to those of you who have prayed with and for me when I haven't had the words.  He truly does answer the cries of our hearts.