I started working on this video a while back to chronicle our journey through this pregnancy, and I wanted to share it with my blog "family."
It has some never-before-seen-pictures (belly shots and the like) that are very special to us, and I hope you'll enjoy watching it.
The song--"Starry Night" by Chris August--was one that I listened to time and time again during the worst part of my grief. I especially love the line, "And I'm givin' it all to the only Son/ Who gave me hope when I had none..." because it feels so appropriate to our situation. I even quoted this line when I announced my pregnancy on facebook--not that my "hope" stems from finally having a "successful pregnancy," but because He truly gave me hope when I had no strength left. He has been so faithful to me throughout this journey, and so...
As the song goes...
"Let the praises ring
Because He's everything!"
Enjoy!
Learning to Soar for Jesus
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label pregnancy. Show all posts
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
It's A...
...HEALTHY baby girl!!!
Again, thanks to so many of you who have continued to pray for us. She is wild--wouldn't be still for any of the ultrasound (I believe our tech called her "crazy"...so at least we know she definitely belongs to us...), and she appears to be perfectly healthy. Praise God!!
Here are the other pictures we received today. Again, couldn't be more thankful to those of you who have kept on praying!
 |
| Sucking her thumb :) |
Thursday, August 11, 2011
The Suspense Is Killing Me....
I used to love the show Full House. I've for certain seen every episode at least three times. Every afternoon at 3:00 pm, my rear end was parked on a sofa cushion and ready to listen to the theme song...
"Whatever happened to predictability
The milk man, the paper boy, the evening TV,
You miss your old familiar friends, but
Waiting just around the bend...
Everywhere you look,
Everywhere there's a heart (there's a heart)
A hand to hold onto
Everywhere you look
Everywhere there's a face
Of somebody who needs you
When you're lost out there and you're all alone
A light is waiting to carry you home
Everywhere you look."
Ahhh. The good ol' days.
I remember there was an episode where Uncle Jesse was preparing to go to a cocktail party with his fiance Becky, and he was intimidated by all of the "smart people" who were sure to be attending. To give his intelligence (and ego) a boost, he gathers a multitude of literature and begins to "read."
In order to get through all of them in the short amount of time he has, he vows to read the first and last sentence of each book.
Picking up A Tale of Two Cities, he reads aloud, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." Flipping to the last page, he recites, "It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done."
He chuckles and remarks flatly, "Wow. Surprise ending." The laughtrack is cued and they go about solving their problems in the half hour allotted.
It wasn't until I got to my senior English class and actually read the book that I realized how ironic this part of the show was because it is, in fact, a surprise ending (and a tearjerker, I might add).
But of course he didn't get that from reading two sentences in the book. How could he understand? He had completely bypassed the story.
My family is awful about trying to guess endings to movies and television shows. As soon as we hear that there's a "surprise" or a "twist," my mom especially picks through her brain and announces her guesses to the rest of the viewing party before the opening credits have begun to roll...
"She's gonna get together with him."
"He's gonna die."
"He's already dead."
My dad will groan and moan and tell her to quit guessing because it ruins the suspense. When, inevitably, one of her theories proves true, she sits back in her chair with a satisfied grin and says, "I knew it."
Isn't it that way when we try to guess what the future will hold?
People visit fortune-tellers, read tarot cards, shake a magic 8-ball because the suspense is killing them. They want to be prepared for what's coming. They want to know what's coming.
But...what if you could know the future? What if you could read the last sentence of the book that is your life? Would you be content? Would it ruin the surprise?
Or, like Uncle Jesse, would you even understand it?
For almost a year now, I've been stuck in a chapter of my life that I've been praying will end. Now. Now. Now. Page turn after page turn, and the main character continues to be deeply flawed and stuck at a fork in the road between bitterness and acceptance.
Frankly, I would love nothing more than to flip to the end of the chapter to see what happens. Where will I go? What will I do? Who will I become?
How will all of this resolve?
And wouldn't you know it? After patiently waiting to find some redeeming quality to the story, well, by golly, here comes a twist...
I've written at length about how difficult it has been to watch the pregnant women in my life as they grow and plan for their upcoming ventures as new moms. One in particular was extremely hard for me to accept. It was horrible, awful, could-not-have-been-worse timing, and it left me with an unfortunate bitterness that persisted for most of her pregnancy. I'm not proud of it. But there was so much anger, so much resentment, so much yuck that went into it that my heart could barely handle the sting.
Only my mother and my husband truly know the depth of pain that I felt throughout her pregnancy.
It wasn't until a week or two before her due date that we actually opened up to this couple, aired our dirty laundry, and came together with empathy, understanding, and true fellowship. The meeting that we shared was divine in nature and just what I needed.
And wouldn't you know it...
As the Lord would have it, I got to be there with them the day their baby was born. I got to watch them become parents, the excitement and anticipation scribbled all across their faces, their inexplicable joy when they finally saw the lovely face they had waited months for.
And I was the first to hold.
There's so much I wish I could share but won't for certain reasons, but I just kept thinking, Wow. I could never have dreamt up this part of the story. I could never have imagined it.
You know why?
Because He's such a good storyteller. And if we will be patient enough to sit and listen, instead of interrupting him constantly to try and figure out the ending, we can revel in, marvel at, and truly appreciate the incredible stories He weaves.
I wouldn't have understood if I had looked ahead for a peek at what was to come. But because I haven't bypassed the story, I do. I get it. I get it. What seemed like horrible, awful, could-not-have-been-worse timing turned out, remarkably, to be perfect timing.
So gather in a circle, sit cross-legged, and listen closely. I can tell, this story's going to be a good one.
And remember, no peeking...
"Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." ~Proverbs 19:21
"Whatever happened to predictability
The milk man, the paper boy, the evening TV,
You miss your old familiar friends, but
Waiting just around the bend...
Everywhere you look,
Everywhere there's a heart (there's a heart)
A hand to hold onto
Everywhere you look
Everywhere there's a face
Of somebody who needs you
When you're lost out there and you're all alone
A light is waiting to carry you home
Everywhere you look."
Ahhh. The good ol' days.
I remember there was an episode where Uncle Jesse was preparing to go to a cocktail party with his fiance Becky, and he was intimidated by all of the "smart people" who were sure to be attending. To give his intelligence (and ego) a boost, he gathers a multitude of literature and begins to "read."
In order to get through all of them in the short amount of time he has, he vows to read the first and last sentence of each book.
Picking up A Tale of Two Cities, he reads aloud, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times..." Flipping to the last page, he recites, "It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done."
He chuckles and remarks flatly, "Wow. Surprise ending." The laughtrack is cued and they go about solving their problems in the half hour allotted.
It wasn't until I got to my senior English class and actually read the book that I realized how ironic this part of the show was because it is, in fact, a surprise ending (and a tearjerker, I might add).
But of course he didn't get that from reading two sentences in the book. How could he understand? He had completely bypassed the story.
My family is awful about trying to guess endings to movies and television shows. As soon as we hear that there's a "surprise" or a "twist," my mom especially picks through her brain and announces her guesses to the rest of the viewing party before the opening credits have begun to roll...
"She's gonna get together with him."
"He's gonna die."
"He's already dead."
My dad will groan and moan and tell her to quit guessing because it ruins the suspense. When, inevitably, one of her theories proves true, she sits back in her chair with a satisfied grin and says, "I knew it."
Isn't it that way when we try to guess what the future will hold?
People visit fortune-tellers, read tarot cards, shake a magic 8-ball because the suspense is killing them. They want to be prepared for what's coming. They want to know what's coming.
But...what if you could know the future? What if you could read the last sentence of the book that is your life? Would you be content? Would it ruin the surprise?
Or, like Uncle Jesse, would you even understand it?
For almost a year now, I've been stuck in a chapter of my life that I've been praying will end. Now. Now. Now. Page turn after page turn, and the main character continues to be deeply flawed and stuck at a fork in the road between bitterness and acceptance.
Frankly, I would love nothing more than to flip to the end of the chapter to see what happens. Where will I go? What will I do? Who will I become?
How will all of this resolve?
And wouldn't you know it? After patiently waiting to find some redeeming quality to the story, well, by golly, here comes a twist...
I've written at length about how difficult it has been to watch the pregnant women in my life as they grow and plan for their upcoming ventures as new moms. One in particular was extremely hard for me to accept. It was horrible, awful, could-not-have-been-worse timing, and it left me with an unfortunate bitterness that persisted for most of her pregnancy. I'm not proud of it. But there was so much anger, so much resentment, so much yuck that went into it that my heart could barely handle the sting.
Only my mother and my husband truly know the depth of pain that I felt throughout her pregnancy.
It wasn't until a week or two before her due date that we actually opened up to this couple, aired our dirty laundry, and came together with empathy, understanding, and true fellowship. The meeting that we shared was divine in nature and just what I needed.
And wouldn't you know it...
As the Lord would have it, I got to be there with them the day their baby was born. I got to watch them become parents, the excitement and anticipation scribbled all across their faces, their inexplicable joy when they finally saw the lovely face they had waited months for.
And I was the first to hold.
There's so much I wish I could share but won't for certain reasons, but I just kept thinking, Wow. I could never have dreamt up this part of the story. I could never have imagined it.
You know why?
Because He's such a good storyteller. And if we will be patient enough to sit and listen, instead of interrupting him constantly to try and figure out the ending, we can revel in, marvel at, and truly appreciate the incredible stories He weaves.
I wouldn't have understood if I had looked ahead for a peek at what was to come. But because I haven't bypassed the story, I do. I get it. I get it. What seemed like horrible, awful, could-not-have-been-worse timing turned out, remarkably, to be perfect timing.
So gather in a circle, sit cross-legged, and listen closely. I can tell, this story's going to be a good one.
And remember, no peeking...
"Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." ~Proverbs 19:21
Thursday, July 21, 2011
It Could Have Ended Here
It could have been the most memorable day of our lives.
Perhaps I would have woken in the middle of the night, much like they do in the movies, to the discomfort of ever-increasing contractions, perhaps my water having broken.
Maybe I would have shaken Dru to wake him, telling him anxiously, "I think it's time."
I'm sure he would have stumbled around nervously for the car keys, our overnight bags, maybe a quick bite of breakfast before loading my very pregnant self into the car. We probably would have run red lights, sped consciously, woven through traffic. He would have asked me constantly how I was feeling, rubbed my belly, told me how much he loved me. That he couldn't wait to be a father.
I could have been settled in a spacious room surrounded by excited family, eager grandparents. Staff might have asked repeatedly, "Is this your first?" followed by congratulatory sentiments and well wishes.
And then, when they would have told me it was time to push, butterflies would have sprung in my gut.
The moment I have been waiting for could have been within reach.
And when they would have told me that she was here--a girl--I would have looked at Dru and wept with an overwhelming sense of joy.
She could have been here.
I could have seen her face. I could have held her. Touched her fingers. Kissed her cheeks.
I like to think that maybe she had her daddy's blonde hair and big, sparkling eyes.
Sarah. It could have fit her. Maybe she would have looked like a Sarah.
My second pregnancy could have ended here. In an overjoyed hospital room. In a healthy newborn. In a happy ending.
But it didn't. It ended months ago in a cold hospital room. In a lost dream. In tears.
Saturday was my second due date, and we are mourning the fact that our sweet Sarah isn't with us. Our memories of her will only ever be limited to a positive pregnancy test and a couple of doctor's visits.
Our arms feel extra empty this week. But praise Jesus, His arms are extra full.
Sweet Sarah, we loved you from the moment we knew you were with us.
Oh, how we loved you. How we love you still.
We miss you, but we trust that there will be a day...oh, that sweet day...when we can see your face. Hold you. Touch your fingers. Kiss your cheeks.
Until then, we'll be waiting...
Love,
Mama and Daddy
Perhaps I would have woken in the middle of the night, much like they do in the movies, to the discomfort of ever-increasing contractions, perhaps my water having broken.
Maybe I would have shaken Dru to wake him, telling him anxiously, "I think it's time."
I'm sure he would have stumbled around nervously for the car keys, our overnight bags, maybe a quick bite of breakfast before loading my very pregnant self into the car. We probably would have run red lights, sped consciously, woven through traffic. He would have asked me constantly how I was feeling, rubbed my belly, told me how much he loved me. That he couldn't wait to be a father.
I could have been settled in a spacious room surrounded by excited family, eager grandparents. Staff might have asked repeatedly, "Is this your first?" followed by congratulatory sentiments and well wishes.
And then, when they would have told me it was time to push, butterflies would have sprung in my gut.
The moment I have been waiting for could have been within reach.
And when they would have told me that she was here--a girl--I would have looked at Dru and wept with an overwhelming sense of joy.
She could have been here.
I could have seen her face. I could have held her. Touched her fingers. Kissed her cheeks.
I like to think that maybe she had her daddy's blonde hair and big, sparkling eyes.
Sarah. It could have fit her. Maybe she would have looked like a Sarah.
My second pregnancy could have ended here. In an overjoyed hospital room. In a healthy newborn. In a happy ending.
But it didn't. It ended months ago in a cold hospital room. In a lost dream. In tears.
Saturday was my second due date, and we are mourning the fact that our sweet Sarah isn't with us. Our memories of her will only ever be limited to a positive pregnancy test and a couple of doctor's visits.
Our arms feel extra empty this week. But praise Jesus, His arms are extra full.
Sweet Sarah, we loved you from the moment we knew you were with us.
Oh, how we loved you. How we love you still.
We miss you, but we trust that there will be a day...oh, that sweet day...when we can see your face. Hold you. Touch your fingers. Kiss your cheeks.
Until then, we'll be waiting...
Love,
Mama and Daddy
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Top Ten Reasons It's Okay Not To Be Knocked Up
Yeah. I pretty much need this list this week. Hope you can find a laugh or two and a reminder that, you know what? It's perfectly okay not to be knocked up... you know, for now.
1. Date night can be any night of the week. Monday night dinner and a movie? Why, of course. Tuesday night sushi and bowling? You betcha! No babysitters, no hassle, no "Ohhhh my gosh I'm so sickkkk and so tired I just wanna go to bed nowwwwwwww" sentiment; just you, your handsome beau, and a whole lot of L-O-V-E. *wink, wink*
2. Hello, forbidden foods. Got a hankering for a glass of wine, a spicy tuna handroll, or some decadent soft cheeses? Eat up, girlfriend. Unless, of course, you're allergic to seafood. Or you're an alcoholic.
3. Rolling in the Benjamins. It's easier to justify a wardrobe splurge (Anthropologie, I love you) when you're not spending every last dime on booties, onesies, and doctor's appointments. Get your hair done. Get your nails done. Go have a spa day. Treat yourself to something fabulous that reminds you just how fabulous you are.
4. The numbers on the scale don't have to go up. They can go down. Or stay the same. And you don't have to worry about looking like you're smuggling a watermelon under your sweater in a matter of months (unless, of course, you go overboard with the soft cheeses).
5. There's no chance of terms like "mucus plug" or "birthing ball" entering your conversations. Frankly, your friends will just like you better because of this.
6. Strangers won't have compulsive urges to rub your belly. At least, I hope not.
7. "I'm going to DisneyWorld!" Live it up at a theme park, waterpark, or some other physically adventurous activity. You won't have to worry about harming an unborn baby. Or you know, exploding an inner tube on the Lazy River.
8. No worry of involuntary flatulence. A girl told me that she could literally propel herself across the room when she was pregnant. Hmmm. Okay. Yeah. I...I don't really know what to say to that.
9. People won't avoid you on account of your, ahem, "hormonal rages." No walking on eggshells around you, missy. You're free to be the life of the party without fear that you'll burst into tears over your swollen ankles or mismatched socks. And, you know, your husband won't be scared of you.
10. You can still see your feet. Yeah. 'Nuff said.
Got a good reason it's okay not to be knocked up? I'd love to hear it!
1. Date night can be any night of the week. Monday night dinner and a movie? Why, of course. Tuesday night sushi and bowling? You betcha! No babysitters, no hassle, no "Ohhhh my gosh I'm so sickkkk and so tired I just wanna go to bed nowwwwwwww" sentiment; just you, your handsome beau, and a whole lot of L-O-V-E. *wink, wink*
2. Hello, forbidden foods. Got a hankering for a glass of wine, a spicy tuna handroll, or some decadent soft cheeses? Eat up, girlfriend. Unless, of course, you're allergic to seafood. Or you're an alcoholic.
3. Rolling in the Benjamins. It's easier to justify a wardrobe splurge (Anthropologie, I love you) when you're not spending every last dime on booties, onesies, and doctor's appointments. Get your hair done. Get your nails done. Go have a spa day. Treat yourself to something fabulous that reminds you just how fabulous you are.
4. The numbers on the scale don't have to go up. They can go down. Or stay the same. And you don't have to worry about looking like you're smuggling a watermelon under your sweater in a matter of months (unless, of course, you go overboard with the soft cheeses).
5. There's no chance of terms like "mucus plug" or "birthing ball" entering your conversations. Frankly, your friends will just like you better because of this.
6. Strangers won't have compulsive urges to rub your belly. At least, I hope not.
7. "I'm going to DisneyWorld!" Live it up at a theme park, waterpark, or some other physically adventurous activity. You won't have to worry about harming an unborn baby. Or you know, exploding an inner tube on the Lazy River.
8. No worry of involuntary flatulence. A girl told me that she could literally propel herself across the room when she was pregnant. Hmmm. Okay. Yeah. I...I don't really know what to say to that.
9. People won't avoid you on account of your, ahem, "hormonal rages." No walking on eggshells around you, missy. You're free to be the life of the party without fear that you'll burst into tears over your swollen ankles or mismatched socks. And, you know, your husband won't be scared of you.
10. You can still see your feet. Yeah. 'Nuff said.
Got a good reason it's okay not to be knocked up? I'd love to hear it!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Showered
When I was on vacation at the beach a couple of weeks ago--minding my own business and thoroughly relishing my time away from all things pregnancy-related--my Blackberry bing-bonged whilst my toes wiggled in the sand.
An email. Asking me to throw a baby shower. For someone who shares one of my due dates.
Ouch.
Now, this wouldn't be such a big deal, except that the person who sent the message is aware of my situation and how difficult it has been to watch this pregnancy progress.
I had already given this mother-to-be a baby gift a few weeks prior because I knew that going to her shower might be too much to handle.
I think some people don't understand how difficult it is to shop in the baby section for baby clothes when you've recently lost a child. It was my third attempt in 6 months at buying a baby gift for someone, and I finally bit the bullet and carefully chose several outfits for the baby-to-be.
As I sat wrapping each dress for her future daughter, I was overcome with sadness.
I wept over the last one, seemingly unable to finish covering it with the pink tissue paper because it sealed the fate that this wouldn't be for my little girl.
Baby showers are hard for those who have experienced pregnancy loss or infertility. Yes, I know. It's a happy time to love on the mother or parents-to-be and celebrate the new life that they are welcoming.
But you know what that means. Babies are on everyone's minds. There are the baby clothes that you have to oooh and aaah over. Toys. Diapers. Pacifiers. Pregnant belly worshiping. Baby games. Baby cakes. Sometimes even baby food (ew).
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby.
So yes. Please explain to me how a woman struggling to be a mother avoids thinking about the one thing that makes her burst into tears at a baby shower?
I've been to a few baby showers since we lost our little ones. I probably shouldn't have gone to one of them because not only did the baby's due date coincide with my first one, she named the baby what we named our first. That was surreal. And unbelievably hard. I stayed five minutes at the back of the room before I quietly left.
Another, I had originally planned to skip. The mother-to-be had been so kind to me throughout my miscarriages--she was there with me at work the night I lost our first and constantly checked up on me to see how I was doing--and so I really wanted to get her a baby gift. I told her that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make it to her shower, and she completely understood, so I gave her the gift beforehand.
But somehow, I got a second wind. And I went to the shower. And I didn't cry or have a terrible time. It was still hard to fully enjoy the experience, but the mother-to-be made it easier by being so understanding about my situation. So it made me want to celebrate with her.
Since people aren't going to stop having babies and baby showers, and since some people are always going to struggle with their fertility, here are some helpful hints when including the reproductively challenged in a baby shower.
1. Do include her. I've done a lot of internet research concerning this subject, and it seems that mothers-to-be tend to be hesitant in inviting an "infertile" woman to her baby shower because she fears it will be too hard for her. If she is your friend, invite her. Don't exclude her because you assume that she won't be able to handle it. You don't know what she is capable of handling. Getting a baby shower invitation may be a hard pill to swallow if there's been a recent pregnancy loss (or perhaps at any time for a woman struggling with infertility), but excluding her would be more hurtful. Don't make the decision for her; let her decide what she wants to do.
2. Do let her know that you understand if she isn't up to attending. This right here is what makes all the difference. If you know she's struggling to become a mother, let her know following the invitation--either by email or phone call or however--that you understand that she's going through a tough time, that you understand if she doesn't feel like she can attend, but that you care about her and wanted to make sure she was included. If she has openly dealt with infertility/pregnancy loss, and you send out a mass email/invitation with no regard for how this might make her feel, she's less likely to attend, and she is likely to feel as though you don't care about her.
3. Do respect whatever decision she makes. If she decides not to attend, be oh so supportive of this. Baby showers can feel like pouring salt in a wound if the timing is just right. She loves you and cares about you, but it just might be too hard right now. Love her no less for this; she probably feels horrible that she can't make herself feel up to going.
4. Do cherish a gift if she sends one. Know that she braved a baby section of a department store to get you that. It was probably more difficult than you'll (hopefully) ever understand.
5. Do reach out to her if she attends. Especially if she doesn't know anyone there. The only way I was able to go to any baby showers at all is because I had a friend who knew my situation go with me. She let me know that the second I needed to go, we would go. You don't have to make this a huge deal, but quietly ask her how she's doing from time to time, and if she leaves early, understand that it probably just got to be too much for her.
And I can't believe this one has to be spelled out...
6. Do NOT ask her to throw the shower. There are some women who are capable of doing this following infertility/pregnancy loss, especially if it's a close friend. But it's completely insensitive to ask. If she wants to, she will offer. Throwing a shower involves lots of energy, time, effort, and money, and grieving the loss of a child along with that may drain her of everything she's got. Include her, but don't make her feel at all obligated to put on the show.
To all of you super fertile Myrtles out there, please love on your fertility-challenged friends. They aren't trying to be selfish and steal your thunder; and they don't think that you should feel bad about having a successful pregnancy.
But this stuff is hard, hard, hard.
Both of you are going through life-changing experiences here. Your pregnancy affects your day-to-day life and your future, and pregnancy loss and infertility does the same for her. Grieve and celebrate together. Lean on each other. Be there for each other.
And shower the people you love with love.
An email. Asking me to throw a baby shower. For someone who shares one of my due dates.
Ouch.
Now, this wouldn't be such a big deal, except that the person who sent the message is aware of my situation and how difficult it has been to watch this pregnancy progress.
I had already given this mother-to-be a baby gift a few weeks prior because I knew that going to her shower might be too much to handle.
I think some people don't understand how difficult it is to shop in the baby section for baby clothes when you've recently lost a child. It was my third attempt in 6 months at buying a baby gift for someone, and I finally bit the bullet and carefully chose several outfits for the baby-to-be.
As I sat wrapping each dress for her future daughter, I was overcome with sadness.
I wept over the last one, seemingly unable to finish covering it with the pink tissue paper because it sealed the fate that this wouldn't be for my little girl.
Baby showers are hard for those who have experienced pregnancy loss or infertility. Yes, I know. It's a happy time to love on the mother or parents-to-be and celebrate the new life that they are welcoming.
But you know what that means. Babies are on everyone's minds. There are the baby clothes that you have to oooh and aaah over. Toys. Diapers. Pacifiers. Pregnant belly worshiping. Baby games. Baby cakes. Sometimes even baby food (ew).
Baby, baby, baby, baby, baby.
So yes. Please explain to me how a woman struggling to be a mother avoids thinking about the one thing that makes her burst into tears at a baby shower?
I've been to a few baby showers since we lost our little ones. I probably shouldn't have gone to one of them because not only did the baby's due date coincide with my first one, she named the baby what we named our first. That was surreal. And unbelievably hard. I stayed five minutes at the back of the room before I quietly left.
Another, I had originally planned to skip. The mother-to-be had been so kind to me throughout my miscarriages--she was there with me at work the night I lost our first and constantly checked up on me to see how I was doing--and so I really wanted to get her a baby gift. I told her that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to make it to her shower, and she completely understood, so I gave her the gift beforehand.
But somehow, I got a second wind. And I went to the shower. And I didn't cry or have a terrible time. It was still hard to fully enjoy the experience, but the mother-to-be made it easier by being so understanding about my situation. So it made me want to celebrate with her.
Since people aren't going to stop having babies and baby showers, and since some people are always going to struggle with their fertility, here are some helpful hints when including the reproductively challenged in a baby shower.
1. Do include her. I've done a lot of internet research concerning this subject, and it seems that mothers-to-be tend to be hesitant in inviting an "infertile" woman to her baby shower because she fears it will be too hard for her. If she is your friend, invite her. Don't exclude her because you assume that she won't be able to handle it. You don't know what she is capable of handling. Getting a baby shower invitation may be a hard pill to swallow if there's been a recent pregnancy loss (or perhaps at any time for a woman struggling with infertility), but excluding her would be more hurtful. Don't make the decision for her; let her decide what she wants to do.
2. Do let her know that you understand if she isn't up to attending. This right here is what makes all the difference. If you know she's struggling to become a mother, let her know following the invitation--either by email or phone call or however--that you understand that she's going through a tough time, that you understand if she doesn't feel like she can attend, but that you care about her and wanted to make sure she was included. If she has openly dealt with infertility/pregnancy loss, and you send out a mass email/invitation with no regard for how this might make her feel, she's less likely to attend, and she is likely to feel as though you don't care about her.
3. Do respect whatever decision she makes. If she decides not to attend, be oh so supportive of this. Baby showers can feel like pouring salt in a wound if the timing is just right. She loves you and cares about you, but it just might be too hard right now. Love her no less for this; she probably feels horrible that she can't make herself feel up to going.
4. Do cherish a gift if she sends one. Know that she braved a baby section of a department store to get you that. It was probably more difficult than you'll (hopefully) ever understand.
5. Do reach out to her if she attends. Especially if she doesn't know anyone there. The only way I was able to go to any baby showers at all is because I had a friend who knew my situation go with me. She let me know that the second I needed to go, we would go. You don't have to make this a huge deal, but quietly ask her how she's doing from time to time, and if she leaves early, understand that it probably just got to be too much for her.
And I can't believe this one has to be spelled out...
6. Do NOT ask her to throw the shower. There are some women who are capable of doing this following infertility/pregnancy loss, especially if it's a close friend. But it's completely insensitive to ask. If she wants to, she will offer. Throwing a shower involves lots of energy, time, effort, and money, and grieving the loss of a child along with that may drain her of everything she's got. Include her, but don't make her feel at all obligated to put on the show.
To all of you super fertile Myrtles out there, please love on your fertility-challenged friends. They aren't trying to be selfish and steal your thunder; and they don't think that you should feel bad about having a successful pregnancy.
But this stuff is hard, hard, hard.
Both of you are going through life-changing experiences here. Your pregnancy affects your day-to-day life and your future, and pregnancy loss and infertility does the same for her. Grieve and celebrate together. Lean on each other. Be there for each other.
And shower the people you love with love.
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