I brought my girls and a friend to the beach yesterday, and happened to plop myself in front of a group of three moms and their kids. Clearly, they knew each other and had the afternoon planned well in advance. Based on the conversation I overheard and behavior I observed (one of the moms took 20 minutes to test her daughter on time tables), I deduced that these three were homeschooling moms.

“Sorry, you get a front row seat to all of this,” said one of the moms after lots of kiddo action transpired three feet from my beach towel.

“No worries,” I said. “I have another one at home who’d typically be adding to our chaos if he was here, so I totally understand. No problem at all.”

“How old is your son?,” she asked.

“13,” I replied.

“So you know way more than we do,” she said.

“Well, looks like two of yours are boys, so you’re quite experienced as well,” I added.

And that was it.

That was my interaction with ONE of those THREE moms.

After that brief interchange, we went about our own business. She continued conversing with the two moms. I continued chilling on my beach towel, watching my two girls and a friend play in the water.

I’ve been a mom for nearly 14 years now.

In the first 12 years of motherhood, I experienced the whole realm of working motherhood. I worked FULL-TIME, FOUR days a week, THREE days a week, TWO days a week, and ONE day a week at some point or another during those 12 years. All things considered, two and three days a week seemed to be the best fit for me.

But then I was called to step away from my work as a speech-language therapist to pursue writing and photography. In order to make a real run at writing and photography, I KNEW I needed to stop my therapy work entirely. So for the past 18 months, I’ve lived this very ODD life of being a full-time stay-at-home mom AND a mom who’s trying to launch two work-at-home careers.

Let me tell you, I’ve learned a great deal about stay-at-home moms during these past 18 months. More than I ever thought I’d learn. More than I ever cared to learn. Enough to give me a TRUE perspective on what it’s really like to be a full-time stay-at-home mom.

First of all, staying at home full-time in America is NOT a cake walk. For the most part, it is NOT valued by our capitalistic, work-centered culture. I don’t know the statistics and no need to go into the details, but everyone knows that the majority of modern-day moms work outside the home in some capacity. And most of the moms who stay home full-time have children on the younger side. So if you’re a mom of children of mixed ages like me (13, 11 & 4), the whole stay-at-home mom situation gets even more awkward and makes you even more of a rare bird.

In America, if you’re not actively making money, you’re not as valued. We like to believe we value full-time stay at home moms, but to be honest, now that I’ve experienced full-time stay-at-home motherhood, I’m not sure we do.

In America, if you can’t answer the question “What do you do?” with a real, active job title, you’re up a creek. “You stay at home full-time? Oh.” (Awkward pause. Person doesn’t know what to say. Person wonders what you DO with your day. Person wonders WHY you have an education but you’re not using it. Person wonders WHY you have solid experience in the workforce and aren’t “working” anymore. Think I’m making this up? No way. It’s humiliating and humbling.)

In our neighborhood, streets are pretty much EMPTY during the daytime. I’d go so far to say that our neighborhood streets are pretty much EMPTY during the daytime, even in the summer. When I’m home alone with my daughter during the day and she wants to play with kids, I can’t guarantee even ONE child will be available in the neighborhood. Maybe yes? Probably no. Let’s just say this…I’ve resorted to texting the neighborhood daycare lady so we can meet at the neighborhood park once in a while.

In America, if you’re a highly educated woman who’s staying home full-time with her children, you have days where you feel incredibly vulnerable. Is this really the right choice for me and my children? Am I wasting my college degree? Are my children really better off with me at home, or would they be better off at daycare or day camp where all the other children are having fun socializing and doing fun kid stuff together all day? Honestly, most of the time, I’m not really sure.

I’m new to this staying at home space, and won’t be here much longer. Only 14 months of staying home full-time before all three of my children are in school full-time. Once they’re all in school full-time, I’ll be focusing solely on writing and photography and other related PAID and UNPAID endeavors during the daytime hours. So honestly, I’m not really seeking long-term answers for myself. I’m grateful for the opportunity to have experienced stay-at-home motherhood, and when I look back at this time of my life, I know I’ll never regret it.

But here’s the thing.

Many days, I wish I could step outside to a village full of moms and children doing this motherhood and childhood thing together. The moms would chat about all the things that matter and don’t matter. Perhaps they’d begin dinner preparations together, or enjoy lunch together. The children would run, play and entertain themselves. There’d never be a shortage of kids, because staying at home to raise the children would be the norm. You’d always know that if you stepped outside, the village would be waiting. Kids here. Moms there. Support everywhere. People who understood your stay-at-home mom lifestyle everywhere. (I’m unrealistically optimistic, okay? I fully realize I’m not in Africa anymore.)

Since we don’t live in villages in America, it’s imperative that we not only embrace, but adopt and whole-heartedly support secret societies of stay-at-home moms that are already in existence.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms at the gym.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms at Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) groups.

Secret societies of stay-at-home homeschooling moms.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms doing playdates together.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms at the maze on Monday, toddler Tuesday at the mall, the park reserve on Wednesday, swimming at the pool on Thursday, and the zoo on Friday.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms who bring meals to one another when life gets crazy.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms who can lend a hand for an hour or two when you just can’t do this anymore.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms who get it, who understand it, who can say “yep, been there, done that, I totally get it!”

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms who can love and support and care for one another in the best and worst of times.

Secret societies of stay-at-home moms who do life together, who honor one another’s hard, hard work, who understand that this lifestyle has value and worth beyond measure.

I think I was sitting behind a secret society of stay-at-home homeschooling moms yesterday at the beach. Good for them! I’m grateful they have a space to joke “We need to go to counseling together,” and “I get so agitated with her dyslexia, dysgraphia and ADHD.” I’m grateful that one of those moms felt comfortable enough around the other moms to scold her child “Stop kicking that sand, move away, it’s getting in our faces!” and NOT feel like a “terrible mom.” I’m grateful they were able to eat lunch together and chat while their children played in the sand. I’m grateful they had an opportunity to feel supported and loved and cared for. I’m grateful they created this secret society for themselves.

Stay-at-home moms. Rise above the mainstream. Keep up those secret societies! Build them. Support them. Nurture them. Invite other moms to them. Never, ever forget that America’s in desperate need of secret stay-at-home societies. Never, ever forget that moms are in desperate need of secret stay-at-home societies.

If staying at home full-time has value and we want it to be more highly valued in the United States of America, we MUST find a way to support our stay-at-home moms and children.

Secret Societies of Stay-at-Home Moms.

They’re a solution to an epidemic of a problem.

Moms and children need support. Moms and children need community. Moms and children need love. Moms and children need to know they’re not going crazy. Moms and children need to know they’re making good choices for their family.

Period.

End of story.

 

This is a guest post written by my younger sister, Tiffany, who has a diagnosis of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Tiffany has shared a monthly guest post on my blog since February 2015. The purpose of her regular posts is to raise awareness of what it’s like to live with mental illness. Last month, Tiffany honored our mom’s unique journey through motherhood with a guest post thanking her for all the ways she’s supported my sister from childhood to current day. This month, Tiffany is honoring our dad with a special post for Father’s Day. If you’d like to read all the posts written about Tiffany’s journey, check out the mental health page. Without further ado, here’s Tiffany.

Who is my dad?

Those who have interacted with him know he loves people, always making small talk with people he comes across in life. My dad has always been a role model to me, and I’m sure to others as well. My dad is waiting another month to be put on the lung transplant list. My hope for my dad is for him to live a few more years without having to rely on oxygen. To take walks together, to talk a few more years and to have my dad around a little bit longer.

My dad has always been my cheerleader. I always remember him saying when I was younger and many times now, “Way to go Tiff, you can do it.” His encouraging words always seem to make me feel better. My dad has always pushed me further than I thought I could go. I feel that I succeeded in many activities and stayed strong because of my dad.

My dad worked two jobs while my sister, brother and I were growing up. He was a band director and a car salesman. He always left time to hang out with his family. Our family would have dinner each night and hang out with my dad while my mom was cleaning up from dinner. We would practice our instruments, fly kites, go to the park and play what we would call “tricks.” Our “tricks” consisted of being held up in the air with my dad’s feet and arms. We would sit on his foot and be pulled around, and we’d ride around on his back. My dad was the one who taught me how to pray. He would pray with us, and us kids would fall asleep afterwards.

My dad and I have always taken walks together. Before he was sick I could barely keep up with him. We’d talk about whatever and look at the stars together. One of the only consistent stars I can point out is the big dipper. We still have our talks, which we’ve had since I was younger, but they’re just different now. I am looking forward to the future, so we can take walks and fast walks again.

My dad has been through my life during the ups and downs. After completing my bachelors degree from the University of Minnesota – Duluth, I worked for a few years in Minneapolis. After that, I decided to check out The Fashion Institute of Design and Merchandising (FIDM) in Los Angeles. My dad flew out to LA to look at the school and for places to live. I was going to live in Venice Beach.

During one of our trips to the Los Angeles area, we took the bus a few places. My dad was communicating with everyone. I told him that in LA, everyone doesn’t talk to each other. We had coffee at a place that ended up being my favorite in the hood. I left my dad at the coffee place and took off to hang with some new friends. We played music together. Then I went back to pick my dad up.

My dad came to visit a few times during my time in Los Angeles. On one of his lasts visits to me in LA was mass confusion. I was working with Jim Carrey as an extra in an airport scene in a movie, and I had to go and pick my dad from another airport. The people I was working with wanted me to change my wardrobe, and I did not want to stand in the wardrobe line again. I was crying and Jim Carrey asked what was going on with me. The issue was resolved. On my way to pick up my dad from the other airport, the battery on my phone died. I started getting psychotic! My dad was in LA for over two weeks, and I rarely saw him. I get very emotional when I think of our times in LA. My dad always introduces me as an actress. The truth is that I never envisioned myself as an actress. I do NOT have good memory skills. I was pretty good in the background, and I miss all the lights and cameras.

My kids have been able to utilize my dad as a father figure. He enjoys when they’re around if they are behaving well. We are working on that. My dad’s energy is very low right now, but we’re doing what we can. My dad has a boat that we try to go on as much as possible during the summer months. He reads a lot with my kids. He treats my kids similar to the way he raised us, always playing and big hugs and have a good day. I know my growing up years were great. I know that my kids and I are being helped the right way by my parents and others.

One guy in my history of my living has asked my dad for his blessing to marry me. I’ve known for a few years that I was not in the right place to get married, not yet. I wasn’t sure if my dad would be strong enough to walk me down the aisle. It just makes me sad. As I was walking out from an appointment at the hospital the other day, I was thinking to myself that I am prepared to take this journey alone. Then I looked down and noticed a fairly large diamond. I told the hospital I found it, but nobody has claimed that diamond, so it’s mine, I guess?! Either way, I am prepared for whatever God chooses for me. If I could find some guy who treats me as my dad has, maybe I’d make some sort of decision?!

My dad has always been the person in my life who I can talk to without being judged or feeling judged. My dad is a very positive person, most of the time. I have learned a lot from my dad’s style of living. I wish him many wonderful years ahead, full of love.

Tiffany

Three or four years ago, I started threatening my husband that I was going to cut my hair off super short and dye it blonde. I casually threatened and joked because I knew I wasn’t brave or bold enough to cut it all off. I casually threatened and joked because I knew my husband strongly prefers me and his girls to have long hair. That is, until one year ago when my husband shaved his head. He began to understand where I was coming from, and granted me complete freedom to go ahead and cut and color my hair however I wanted.

Okay. I know you’re going to roll your eyes, puke in your mouth a bit (if you’re my husband), or maybe even wonder “What in the WORLD is Amy thinking? Has she gone mad?” But think Miley Cyrus. Yes, this is the haircut I envisioned in my mind all those years. No need to go into details, but you know this cut has an even edgier styling option, right?

Why am I talking about haircuts and sharing photos of celebrities today, anyway? Because this seemingly random story about hair has a real-life application. There’s a bigger lesson to be learned here, and I didn’t realize it until I cut my hair.

So let’s go back in time a bit. I promise, this won’t take long.

I’m super low maintenance when it comes to my hair. When I say SUPER low maintenance, I mean it. I get my haircut twice a year AT MOST. I don’t make appointments ahead of time. I pretty much get to the point of emergency and take an appointment wherever I can get in. Hence, the longest amount of time I’ve stayed with one stylist in my adult life is maybe a year or two. I’ve only highlighted my hair a couple times, and have never had a full color job. Garnier Fructis is my shampoo of choice ($3 or less with coupon). Typically, I have ONE high-end smoothing product to help manage my frizzy hair, and that lasts me for several years because I use it so sparingly. Five minutes is the perfect amount of time for styling; anything beyond that is annoying and crosses into high maintenance. And anyone who knows me in real life knows that I love, love, LOVE ponytails. Ponytails are the best, especially when you’ve had the lovely experience of lice through your house twice in one year. Yeah, ever since that, I’ve worn the ponytail 5-6 days a week.

Moving on.

I’d last gotten a haircut in early September 2015. I wore my hair in a bun while I was in Kenya, and kept the spirit of Kenya alive by wearing my hair in a bun EVERY SINGLE DAY from November 26, 2015 through April 26, 2016 when I finally got my haircut. That’s five months, people! I thought the bun was totally working until my former neighbor’s mom saw me in the store and said she barely recognized me because my hair was “so slicked back.” (I wasn’t sure her words were meant as a compliment. I, for one, loved the bun, but knew it was another trap.)

Time to get that haircut.

I’d been thinking and talking about that short haircut for SO long, that I knew this haircut was going to be TOTALLY SHORT or SAFE AND BORING (think ponytail).

Research phase began.

Maybe I should get something dark and edgy, like rocker Demi Lovato?

Maybe I should get something chic and sophisticated, like my one and only television role model, Megyn Kelly?

Ultimately, I narrowed my selection to two realistic favorites which I shared on my Facebook page so people could give me their opinions on the cuts. Julianne Hough rocking the short, but not TOO short hair.

Or Emma Watson rocking the safe, but definitely short style.

The rubber hit the road. It was time to decide. Money was budgeted. The appointment was booked. My decision was SAFE or SHORT, and I was going SHORT. I wasn’t 100% sure about the decision, but I was hovering around 97%.

This is me the night before the haircut. No makeup. Hair just washed and air dried. No products. No styling. My thick, frizzy inherited hair is a challenge to manage. Can you imagine how long it takes to tame this into something presentable everyday (besides a ponytail)?

This is me the morning of the haircut. Slicked back into a bun. The same way I’d worn it every day for the past five months.

Haircut time!

I went to a new salon and booked with a stylist I’d never met. Thank goodness I had a solid referral from a former patient’s mom I trust whole-heartedly when it comes to matters of the hair!

I showed the stylist all the short hair photos I’d pinned. She didn’t want to cut my hair quite that short since it was the first time she’d EVER cut my hair and didn’t know how it was going to respond. So we agreed on a slightly longer version, Carrie Underwood’s 2016 Grammy’s cut. I knew the cut was longer than anything I’d envisioned, but it was still MUCH shorter than any style I’d had since 5th grade, so I agreed.

“All this hair is weighing you down,” she said.

So off went the hair.

I didn’t bat an eye.

This haircut was long, long overdue.

It was freeing. A weight literally lifted off my shoulders.

I had a few errands to do, but knew my husband was eagerly awaiting the results of my big haircut. All the friends and family who’d weighed in on my haircut on Facebook would appreciate an “after” picture, right? So I tried a couple selfies in the car, but that didn’t work out very well. (Selfies are the worst thing ever. SO awkward!)

After the failed selfie attempt, I went into the mall to do my errands.

As I walked the aisles, I remembered that if there’s one vanity item I really do love and appreciate, it’s clothing. With the exception of a sports bra, I haven’t requested a clothing budget in forever and a day. I glanced at myself in mirrors, trying to determine if I liked this haircut or not, whether I looked good in it or not. Was I crazy for thinking this was a good idea? What’s more, I looked deep in my eyes and noticed they didn’t sparkle any more or less after the haircut.

That’s when I started noticing a difference. Right there in the mall. Right after my big haircut. That’s when I started feeling and SEEING a difference.

This wasn’t really about a short haircut. This was about proving to myself that it was okay to take a risk. This was about proving to myself that it would turn out okay even if it wasn’t perfect. This was aligning my outsides more closely to my transformed insides. This was about seeing myself differently. This was about seeing the world differently. This, in fact, had very little to do with my outward physical appearance and very much to do with my wellness, wholeness and perspective on life. This was about me learning to say no AND yes to what’s me AND what’s not me. This was about embracing my life and taking responsibility for how I choose to live it.

I needed to think, believe and behave differently than I had before.

I needed to see myself differently. 

I needed to see differently.

And that’s exactly what began to happen when I got my haircut.

I tried some more selfies that afternoon and again the next morning, but I never did share an “after” picture on my Facebook page. Guess it’s all here today, right?

Here’s the truth. The haircut wasn’t about everyone else, anyway. I didn’t need anyone’s approval or disapproval. In the end, the haircut was about taking the RISK I knew I needed to take.

Maybe I’m taking this too far. Maybe I’m overanalyzing this haircut. But what if I’m not?

What’s on your heart? What small or big decision’s been weighing on your mind for days, weeks, months or years? What risk have you been longing to take, but fear has stopped you for some reason? What do you KNOW you need to do, but can’t bring yourself to do it for any reason at all?

Here’s the secret. Nobody knows but me, but I’ve been saying YES to a lot of little things since I got that haircut six weeks ago. Saying YES to the haircut helped me see myself and the world differently, which gave me confidence to say YES to a bunch of things I wanted and needed to say YES to.

So what’s your YES today? What risk do you need to take – small or big – to propel yourself forward in life? Perhaps you need a haircut, too? Or perhaps it’s something else, anything else. I’m believing somebody’s out there, somebody’s listening, somebody needs to hear this.

TAKE the RISK.

Do it.

See your life differently.

See life differently.

See differently.

It’s a joy to introduce you to Disa who’s sharing her unique journey to and through motherhood as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Disa and I went to college together. We attended the same campus church, were student deacons together, and I’m sure we had some overlap of coursework as she was majoring in education and I was majoring in speech-language pathology. Disa is now a mom of FIVE, including a set of QUADRUPLETS! Today, she’s sharing the hidden blessings she’s found as a mama of quads. I think you’ll find her post interesting, enjoyable and easy to read. And yeah, there are a bunch of super cute big brother + quadruplets photos you won’t want to miss! Please extend a warm welcome to Disa.

As anyone will tell you, being a Mom is a blessing in so many ways. For the past six to seven years especially, I have been spending many days thinking about the hidden blessings that have occurred in my life. For me, some are very evident, and some took me a while to realize the blessing God was busy creating for me.

I am a daughter, sister, wife, mother of a nine-year-old son, six-year-old daughter and THREE six-year-old sons (QUADRUPLETS). I am a planner and organizer, and until the end of August I had been a stay at home mom for the past five years. Now I am back to work teaching 4th grade. I always knew I wanted to be a teacher. I didn’t think I could ever be a full-time stay at home mom, but I loved that a teacher offered some stay at home mom opportunities for me. I knew I wanted this long before I went to college or was even close to becoming a mom. I also knew I wanted more than two kids; four kids was what I thought would be perfect. 25+ years later, I am back to teaching again after being a stay at home mom for the past five years to care for my busy family. (I got my four children, just a little different from how I thought or planned!)

Finding out we were pregnant with quadruplets was an extreme shock and took us forever to fully grasp, maybe it still hasn’t sunk in. We knew having four babies at once was a HUGE blessing but seeing all of the blessings it would offer is still coming into view for us. Upon finding out this news, we were struck with worry. How would this affect our then three-year-old son? How would we financially handle this? How would we fit four more children in our modest three-bedroom home? How can we handle four babies, a three year old, and still have some form of a life without living close to any family? How would all of this affect us mentally and emotionally?

Our nearest family members were three plus hours away. We thought for sure we would need to be moving closer to family, but the thought of trying to sell and move while pregnant was too much for us. From the instant we told our families the news, they were by our sides. They made extra trips to visit, took care of our son, found extra baby things we would need, and prayed. They are family, we knew we could count on them regardless of the distance.

Early on in my pregnancy, I remember a good friend of mine coming and offering to help me in the classroom once a week right after she was done volunteering in her daughter’s classroom. My first instinct was to say no, but I distinctly remember a voice saying to me, you need to say yes, you are going to need a lot more help in the next few years, you better start saying yes now.

At school, my coworkers were amazing. Once they found out I needed to rest as much as possible, but needed to work as long as possible too, they started doing little things like walking my students to lunch and other places so I wouldn’t have to. They also started preparing food for me and my family twice a week starting in December and continued to bring dinners to us until the end of May. It was amazing to not have to worry so much about food and grocery shopping.

A good friend from church started a list of people in church who would be available to help when the babies come home from the hospital. For at least the first two years, I had helpers come spend time with us. It allowed me time to run errands, spend time with our older son uninterrupted, and just give me a break to save my sanity. Little did we know this would create some incredible bonds for all of us. Because of the connections we have made in the past six years, we have rooted ourselves in our community. We have gained some wonderful “extended” family. One of our helpers lost her 50-year-old son to an accident just before our babies were born. The time she was able to help hold and play with the babies was healing for her too. We are still close with all of them and they are still available to help when needed.

We knew I would need to stay home with the kids for several years, so now we are significantly cutting our income and more than doubling our family. Also, remember I thought I wasn’t cut out to be a stay at home mom, full time anyway. But, amongst this struggle we knew we needed to do something different. Our three-year-old son was really having a difficult time going to daycare the weeks and months before we found out we were pregnant with quads. We knew we needed to make some type of change, but we were not sure what that would be. In reality, I don’t think I would have ever considered staying at home with my children if I had only been pregnant with one baby that time around either. Funny how God works in these situations.

The more I stayed home with the kids, the more I realized how much I enjoyed it. I was there for all the little things. I remember calling my husband on more than one occasion to thank him for working so hard, so that I could stay home and be there for the little things. Like the few times my son forgot his tennis shoes and he didn’t want to miss gym as it was his favorite class. I was there to get them to him. I was able to make myself available to volunteer in his classroom every week. I was available for the little programs and events in the class. I could stay home to take care of sick kids without having to worry about missing work. I had the time to bake and cook for my family. We had time to do little projects, play games, just let the kids be kids and stay in their warm winter pajamas all day long as we weren’t going anywhere and it sure felt good on a cold winter day. I was able to get involved in our local MOPS group and meet other Mothers of Preschoolers. Being it was difficult to leave the house with five kids, I was able to have moms over for coffee and playdates. Connections I was able to make because I was at home. I didn’t realize these little things were so important to me, but as I stayed home I began to realize how much I liked doing all of those little things.

If there is any suggestion I can offer to mommas regardless of the number of children you have, remember: there can be hidden blessings in everyday life, just be open to watching for them and willing to say yes to any help that is offered to you. Above all, have faith. God will provide in ways you may not be ready to see yet. I am still working on this daily.

 

 

 

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 10 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. There, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!

It’s a joy to introduce you to Caroline who’s sharing her unique journey through infertility as part of our month-long guest post series, Special Mamas. Caroline is not a mama yet, but I can assure you she’s on her way to becoming one! Caroline and her husband, Mike, tried for years, met with fertility specialists, tried infertility treatments, and experienced more than one miscarriage. It’s been one roller coaster of a very long journey. Caroline and Mike have now decided to grow their family through adoption. Caroline’s words are thought provoking and heart warming, and prove that if we’re able to look beyond our circumstances, God is faithful to weave a beautiful story through our lives. Caroline is a very special woman, and will undoubtedly be one very special mama. Please extend a warm welcome to Caroline and her husband, Mike. (And be sure to click the link at the bottom of the post so you can follow their adoption Facebook page!)

Our story began in graduate school. We dated for a year and married six months later. During our engagement, we chatted about our future plans as a couple – what we wanted our family to look like, where we might live, etc. We were both pretty independent and wanted to have a solid foundation of at least two years of marriage before growing our family. We agreed that at least three children would be nice and that a warmer climate, like here in Virginia was ideal. The two year mark came and went – after another couple years it was time to face the facts, we needed to get some help. I remember the first appointment with the fertility specialist. Wow. That was something.  The doctor asked us, “Why do you think you are here?” As we began to share about the challenges we faced trying to conceive, he interrupted us by stating, “You are here because you are infertile and you want me to help you have a baby.” That was the first time we were told we are infertile. It was a hard diagnosis to stomach. At the time I was working for an adoption agency and was very familiar with “unexplained infertility.” It seemed to be the diagnosis for many whose adoption journey began with infertility. Although I was familiar with it, I never thought it would be something that we would have to deal with.

It was somewhat of a relief to get the ball rolling and start the testing process to better understand our “unexplained infertility.” The testing revealed some minor deficiencies that were easily corrected and we felt optimistic moving forward with medications and IUI (Intrauterine Insemination) procedures. We attempted several IUIs, all unsuccessful. We decided to take a break from infertility treatments and went to California to connect with good friends – time to relax. To our surprise, I became pregnant shortly thereafter.  I was in complete disbelief (I think I took about four tests to make sure each indicated a positive result). We were so excited, but a little skeptical because it had been so long and we weren’t sure what to expect. We only told close immediate family members because we were so early in the pregnancy. Since I was a high risk pregnancy situation, they asked me to get blood drawn every other day. Unfortunately my hCG levels began to drop and they indicated I should expect a miscarriage. I remember the day well. I was at work in the middle of typing up an adoptive home study when my phone rang. It was the nurse who told me the news. I don’t believe I ever felt such instant, gut wrenching grief. I instantly began to weep. My colleague heard me and approached my office. I could not even speak or communicate I just continued to sob. I called Mike and tried to get out the words and eventually did. He was calm and collected, but also very disappointed. One minute we were on cloud nine and the next we were in complete despair. How was this possible and where was God?

We decided to take a break and grieve and process before moving forward with an IUI procedure as previously planned. There were days we felt sadness, other days we felt anger, and some days we distracted ourselves in an effort to not feel. Thankfully, we are both trained clinicians and held each other accountable to communicate and deal with the loss and grief individually and together as a couple. Many conversations and prayers later, we felt it was a good time to move forward again. The IUIs and medications began and continued, to no avail. Each unsuccessful attempt began with a glimpse of hope and ended with many questions, doubts, and frustrations. It had been about five years of trying now and not only had I become older, but my body had taken a toll from all the medications and procedures. I was emotionally and physically worn out. So again, we decided to take a break from actively trying.

One day, I was reading Facebook and an ad popped up on the screen that indicated the early signs of pregnancy. Most days I would roll my eyes and ignore it, but for some reason, I opened the link. My cycle was a bit atypical so I thought maybe there is a possibility that I could be pregnant given I experienced some of the minor symptoms the article described. Sure enough, the pregnancy test was positive. I was in complete disbelief. How could this be? I wasn’t on any medications nor had we sought any treatment that month. I called my sister to share the news and my doubts that it was accurate. She suggested I get another test. I took four more tests and all indicated I was pregnant. I didn’t know whether to feel excited or to brace for grief. I shared the news with Mike who responded very excitedly, which was not typical of his personality. He is usually very relaxed and laid back, but he was overjoyed. We called the doctor and again went through blood testing. It was interesting timing given we were headed to a family beach vacation the following week. My hCG levels were increasing. I was so grateful. Then came the third test – the levels had dropped. We knew what to expect and it could not have been worse timing given the planned vacation. I was disappointed, but I think in the back of my mind, I had doubts from the beginning and thought it may end as the previous pregnancy – in a miscarriage. Mike, on the other hand, felt immense grief and sobbed. This was the first time I had seen him really grieve on a deep level. It was awful. We felt completely helpless. 

Soon after, Mike brought up the option of growing our family through adoption. I was ecstatic! Adoption has always been on my heart. At a young age, I watched the commercials for child sponsorship and would dream about adopting one day. During high school and college, I nannied for two children who were adopted. After graduate school, I worked with adoptive, expectant, and birth parents through my work as an adoption specialist. Adoption has always been an important part of my life. Although this was something Mike and I chatted about early on in our relationship, I knew first-hand the importance of both Mike and I approaching adoption as a viable option together. Mike’s suggestion was confirmation we were both ready to begin the adoption journey.

We were drawn to the beauty of adoption because it reflects the acceptance we both feel through the Gospel. However, the emotional cost associated with beginning a new journey came with new uncertainties. It came in waves, questioning if we had set out on another path with no answers – would we ever complete our family? We had many conversations together and with friends and family about our anxieties. So many prayers. It felt like we were leaving something we knew – albeit something that was unsuccessful – and venturing into new ground. God has been faithful to remind us of his goodness regardless of the outcome. We are excited and hopeful that at the right time God will bless us in the way He sees fit.

We wanted to share this story not as a therapy session for ourselves (maybe a little), but to hopefully help someone else feel normal. One of the challenging things during this process has been feeling “different” – having to deflect questions about why you don’t have any kids but you’ve been married for 8 years. It can play on your mind and lead to some untrue conclusions about your purpose. We hope that through our story we can help expose some lies about what it means to be “infertile” and offer hope that God is good regardless of that diagnosis.

We have created Facebook and Instagram pages to document our journey and help spread the word. If you or someone you know is considering adoption please message or email us with any questions or comments.

 

 

 

This post is part of a month-long guest post series titled Special Mamas. The series runs all May and is in honor of moms who have unique journeys to and through motherhood. To read all 10 posts in the Special Mamas series, CLICK HERE and you’ll be directed to the introductory post. There, you’ll find all guest posts listed and linked for easy reading!