Birthday Wishes

Today is my 29th birthday. With that, I know I get one birthday wish. I have decided to make a promise to myself this year. This birthday I will not wish for a baby or a pregnancy.

For the past 3 years every candle I have blown out on top of my birthday cake has been a wish that goes something like this, {and not exactly because I know wishes don’t come true if you tell them}… “please, please I wish that I will get pregnant and have lots of babies!” With every year that has come and gone, so has my wish. Maybe I need to be more specific. “Please, please let me get pregnant tonight!”

This year I have a different wish for myself. I am going to wish for world peace. Ok, maybe I am not going to wish for that because we all know that would be a waste of a wish, but I am going to make a wish that has nothing to do with babies, pregnancy, or infertility.

I don’t want to go into the last year of my twenties wishing for another life that is not mine or that I may not ever have.

Birthdays are a new start. Fresh beginnings. A time to start new endeavors with new goals. I am going to move forward with fresh confidence and courage to take on the next year with a happy heart!

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Tennessee.

We have come full circle. 3 years ago we began our “real” baby making journey on a trip to bring my husband back home from the South. A trip which began in lovely Tennessee. In a few days we will be heading back there to visit family and celebrate my last birthday in my 20’s. A spontaneous trip non the less!

Let me back up. Hubs and I had started trying/not trying in September of 2011. In the midst of that hubs was going to be attending an accelerated paramedic program in Indiana in January 2012 for 3 months. We decided if we were not pregnant by the time he left, that we would start trying/trying in April when I flew out to meet him in Tennessee to road trip back home. {hubs has awesome family in Tennessee, which is why we were meeting out there}. Fate would have it that I was ovulating on that trip, but God had other plans. Interesting enough if I do fall pregnant this month we will be in Tennessee finding out either way. And if I’m not, you know who will be moonshinin’ their heart out? THIS GIRL.

So here we are again. Heading to Tennessee 3 years later, right in the same place as we started. Maybe a little wiser and definitely a little bit older.

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The Loneliness of Grief

Lately I have been noticing that a lot of the lady loves I follow are feeling the same way I am about infertility kicking our asses emotionally. Today Resolve posted a great blog post by The Broken Brown Egg, and I think it pretty much sums up my feelings exactly about loneliness, anger, and grief in regards to infertility. I just adore it. I hope you enjoy as much as I did.

“October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. During last month’s #MoonshineMeetup, a conference call for the Broken Brown Egg’s Shellshocked Support Group, one participant said something so profound that it really made me stop.  She said, “If someone’s child passes away, they are expected to mourn, and they are allowed to think about it.  Because my child was never “born”, does that mean I should act as though it never happened?  Why don’t I get to think about them?”. 

It was a heartbreaking thought, because it made me really stop and think about how lonely grief really is.  I started to really think about how many women and men we encounter every day who we never suspect to be in mourning.  They are right in the middle of their pain, and we look right through it.

Infertility in and of itself, is an ongoing bereavement.  With every month gone by, you are constantly grieving over your vision for your life, your hope, or your plan for your future. Every single day is a readjustment period.  Every reset and restart is like signing yourself up for the same pain all over again.

And the hardest thing about grieving, the absolute worst thing, is that it feels as though everyone wants you to forget. They will say that it’s because they want you to feel better, but you feel as though what they really want, is for you to not bring them down.  They don’t want to look at your sadness anymore because it is an uncomfortable inconvenience.

“Grief is like the ocean; it comes on waves ebbing and flowing. Sometimes the water is calm, and sometimes it is overwhelming. All we can do is learn to swim.” ― Vicki Harrison

To our credit, most of us do a pretty good job of keeping our sadness to ourselves.  But it crushes you.  Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, and your body does what feels like a double-step.  You think to call or message someone, or just scream “Help Me!!”, but then that overwhelming feeling of loneliness sets in.

You’re not actually alone, but it feels that way.

Because everyone else is over it.  And you just know that when you start laying out your issues, their facial expressions will say, “are you still talking about this?”, or “umm,…isn’t there someone else more qualified to listen to you about this?”.  Everyone else seems to have moved on.  Everyone else can act as though nothing ever happened.

But something did happen.

And it is happening.

And it hurts.

It feels as if everyone wants you to “just” let it go.

And you’re left thinking, “But why do I have to forget?

And, “Why don’t THEY remember?”

You get furious at their impatience.  At their painful indifference.  At the way they treat you as though you want to stay there.  That you want to feel this way.  That you want to be unhappy.

We spend a million hours every week with all types of people.  Laughing, talking, hanging out, working our jobs.  Mundane things.  And most of the time, nobody realizes who is actually broken inside.  I mean, if you can do your job adequately, and you provide enough of a “you” for it not to be so obvious that you aren’t firing on all cylinders, not one person is going to touch your shoulder like in the movies and say, “Really, are you okay?”.

“Grief never ends… But it changes. It’s a passage, not a place to stay. Grief is not a sign of weakness, nor a lack of faith… It is the price of love.”
— Unknown

Wherever you are in your process, it was on my heart to share this simple truth: Grief is lonely, and it often outlasts sympathy, but it is necessary.  Allow yourself to grieve. No matter how you come out of this, or when you reach the ever-elusive “other side” of it, know that it is your right, to remember and reflect and regroup.

Whether it is a child who never took a breath, or one who took far too few.  If it were a dream that never came to light, or a loved one who is no longer with you,…you have the absolute right to remember that it/they mattered.  The condition of your heart, is important.  What it feels like to YOU, is valid.  And what you’re going through, is real.

Take all the time, and love, that you need.  You have my empathy.”

source: thebrokenbrownegg

Take care my friends and know that I too, have so much empathy for you. I am always here to just listen, for a shoulder to cry on, or to have a glass of vino ready to chat. xoxo Rikki

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I am popping a boner over Coldplay’s newish album Ghost Stories. This post has nothing really to do with infertility other than the fact that music is my lifeline and it helps my mood and helps get me through hard times, happy times, and everything in between. Do yourself a favor and GO GET IT!! It is definitely hitting the spot this Sunday morning. That is all.

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