Contentment

As a mother I often fret about my son growing up in a world or attitude of entitlement.  It's a very real issue that I suspect will only become tougher to strive against as the years go on.

At the same time, I'm thankful I'm not part of that 'entitlement' generation.

Wait, what? 

Maybe I'm too old to be a Milenial, by definition. 
    Maybe I know what it means to work hard for what I earn and desire.
        But, let's face it... I'm a little entitled too.  Call it what you want...

[#firstworldproblems]

This is a intermittent and revolving thought process that's definitely something I struggle with.  (And if you don't think it's something you struggle with, maybe you aren't thinking hard enough.) 

On the one hand, when I think about my unrealized parenting dreams, I feel it's unfair.  "I deserve more." 

On the other hand, I know from having visited and worked briefly in the developing world, that what I have is abundance.  And it's not just the baby monitors and multiple roomed house kind of abundance; I've also been abundantly blessed with my family planning.  I have incredible access to resources, bloodwork, ultrasounds, medicines that have kept me healthy in pregnancy, skilled physicians to perform D&E's and C-sections under sterile conditions.  I enjoy a free society where I appreciated an Aunt who taught us NFP.  There are treatments that although I've opted against are certainly at my disposal. 

I know that those who 'have not' often have a sense of contentment that those of us who 'have' (been priveledged to grow up in the United States) will never be able to capture or fully understand.  The look of sheer joy that comes from a soccer ball will hopefully be something I never forget.  But, again it's not just material things... it's hard to articulate, but the godly people I've met in Central America and Africa have had this undeniable life attitude of "enough."  They don't constantly compare themselves, their children or their husbands to others around them.  They don't struggle with self pity.  The mothers in these situations are perhaps my greatest inspiration.  Take this woman, here:   

Uganda, BMCF, 2008

I'll never forget her story - herself, her husband, the baby she holds and all her children are HIV+.  I remember her telling me about how her husband would never consider using condoms to prevent pregnancy or transmission of disease.  They as parents know that their disease will be perpetuated in their children and there is nothing she can do to prevent it because her husband won't allow anything different.  And although she shared with me sadness for her children's condition, she didn't complain about her husband.  She simply came to our clinic in secrecy to do the little she could to protect her children from illness.  She truly seemed content in the midst of great struggle. 

Most days (most hours of the day), I'm content as well. But even the faintest hint of discontentment seems ridiculous from this perspective. God has given me more than I deserve. 

My family planning situation may not be what I imagined it would be, but it only feels unfair when I compare it to my friends who've had several successful consecutive pregnancies.  When I compare it to the woman above, it seems more than fair. 

Of course, that begs the question, why do we feel the need to compare?  

[#firstworldproblems]

In short, I am blessed in ways I have never even acknowledged.  Yes, I continue to worry about bearing a child with a fatal trisomy.  But, never once have I worried about my children being born with an incurable infectious disease.   Furthermore, in my little corner of the world, we have seemingly infinite access to resources to help us solve our family planning problems.  Yes, it might require most of our savings to adopt a baby, but we have those savings.  Praise God.  We live in a society with a robust legal system where adoption is possible (albiet cumbersome).  Thank you, Lord.  The list of examples of abundance could go on for paragraphs but that might get tedious... 

I am growing a healthy family.

Praise God indeed. 

Dear Lord,

Today and throughout my entire life,

I've been fortunate.  Privileged.

Save me and those like me from self pity.

Jealousy should have no home in my heart. 

Help us to appreciate our abundance in new ways

each and every day that we get to enjoy your glory.

Help us move towards contentment.

Mindful of the moment,

every comfortable, blessed moment.

Help us to keep our struggles in perspective.

We trust you with this and everything.

Amen.

A Pregnant Belly

I know it won't matter then.  But one of this world's great mysteries, one of the things I'd like to ask God when I get to the other side, has always been why there are so many unwanted pregnancies and yet so many families who want to be pregnant but cannot. 

In the early 1970s, one of the main points of law that our Supreme Court focused on when deciding Roe v Wade was the woman's right to privacy.  And no matter how you feel about their ruling, it's true, pregnant women have no privacy.

When I was pregnant it was fun at first, but then I found myself complaining.  I'd joke with a work friend who doesn't have kids, saying, "I just need to make myself a t-shirt with my due date and 'it's a boy' written on it, so people will stop asking me questions."  I didn't like strangers touching me.  At six months, a female patient told me I must have twins in there I was so big.  A month later a male patient told me I looked like a house.  I knew it silly to complain about, but I really couldn't go anywhere without some commentary.

How must women with unwanted pregnancies feel?  I can't even imagine. 

Oh, what I wouldn't give for a little commentary now. 

 

In that first pregnancy, I had a good friend who was in the process of adopting.  Her son is one day older than mine now.  I did my best back then to check in about her progress because I knew when I walked onto the ward where she worked that everyone gushed over me.  I wondered how she felt about that.  Did anyone gush over her?  Without a belly to show off, I doubted that. 

Waiting for an adoption is full of hope and wonder.  It promises new life that'll change ours in ways we can't expect.  I'm optimistic and excited. 

But waiting for an adoption is also quiet.  Man, I miss the belly.  I'm thankful I had that experience and sorrowful for those who never have such good fortune.  I didn't know I'd long for those days again.  Ladies, I'm begging you, don't take it for granted.  Those ultrasound pictures you get/choose to post online, the loving folks who are just curiously excited for you: drink it up.  Be thankful.  Be joyful.

Be kind.  Be also mindful and empathic of the men and women around you.  With or without a belly, they might have something worth hoping and gushing for too. 

Refining Me

I am a member of the CMDA (Christian Medical and Dental Association) and the WIMD (Women in Medicine and Dentistry) which both offer wonderful devotionals that often resonate with me.  The WIMD doesn't have a FB page so I receive this only in email format and couldn't find another way to link it here other than copying every word.  So, here it is (emphasis added in bold).  Although I completely agree with the attitude of gratitude that has turned up on FB in November, I felt her point was poignant:

Devotion - Thankful
by Tiffany Owens

The Thanksgiving season is upon us. Sadly, the holiday is becoming dwarfed by other expanding fall traditions and an ever earlier commencement of the Christmas extravaganza. The enemy is constantly on the prowl (John 10:10), encouraging us to be too busy and distracted to give thanks. In reality, this period of thankfulness is paramount for preparing our hearts for the Christmas season. Thankfulness displaces the focus from oneself to one’s Provider and Sustainer, often quieting the discontented heart, leading to a more purposeful (and less harried) approach to honoring our Savior’s birth. I desperately want to lean in deeper to my Sustainer during this season.
For several years, I have enjoyed the trend whereby social media is used to make a daily list of blessings. The posts generally start with, “I’m thankful for…” It’s wonderful to see answered prayers and appreciation of gifts beyond what many of these friends may have imagined. There have been some conspicuously missing posts, though. I haven’t seen many that say, “I’m really mad/hurt/bitter/sad/angry, but THANKFUL for my loneliness/burn out/financial problem/suffering…” Paul encourages us to “give thanks in all circumstances…” and I, for one, do not naturally lean toward that response (1 Thessalonians 5:18, NIV 2011). In fact, sometimes, I think I prefer to stay in my sour mood, even while God’s Word offers me the steps to “move on.” Why I would want to remain grumpy, I cannot explain; however, I do know that choosing joy and trusting in God’s precepts seems to require effort on my part and is contrary to the actions of the world around me. I feel too weak to tackle yet another obstacle, so I sulk. Paul struggled with an opportunity for bitterness. He described a thorn in his flesh, which was sent as a messenger of Satan, to torment Paul. He pleaded with God to remove it from him, but God did not. Instead, He responded with the relieving news that Paul’s weakness was an opportunity to highlight the perfection of God’s power within Paul. This led Paul to conclude, “…when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:7-10, NIV 2011). Presently, I’m feeling sour and grumpy and weak because of a thorn of my own. I greatly desire to honor God through the situation, develop perseverance and authentically show others Christ’s power within me. I don’t want to miss out on experiencing the joy of Thanksgiving and Christmas because of my misguided self-focus. How might I develop a thankful spirit about a situation from which I’d rather be spared?

1. I am going to acknowledge that God is not instructing me to be thankful for the “thorn” itself. He’s guiding me to be thankful for the all-sufficient grace He has provided.
2. I am going to resist my natural response to sulk or get busy attempting to fix it via my own abilities. I choose to claim the power of Christ, even when I don’t feel it, by demolishing “arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5, NIV 2011).
3. I am going to express my thankfulness. By leaning into God’s grace and making my wayward thoughts obedient to Christ, I am then able to be more comforted by the Holy Spirit’s sweet presence. Upon reflection, I’m truly thankful that the presence of the “thorn” is causing me to seek deeper fellowship and rest in Jesus than I would have otherwise experienced.

Dear God, thank you for being my Provider and Sustainer. Thank you for the abundant blessings I so often take for granted. Thank you for loving me enough to challenge me in areas where I am not resting in your best and for giving me your Word and Holy Spirit to guide me. I KNOW your grace is perfected in my weakness, but please help me to FEEL it today too. Amen.

So, let me follow her lead and try it here:

I'm thankful for my losses because with the babies has gone my pride.  Inappropriately placed pride for results that I hadn't really produced on my own but was claiming to have.  With humility, I've been able to connect empathetically in ways I'd never before been capable of.  With eyes wide open, my perspective has broadened and thereby my heart has opened. 

I'm thankful for my losses because they've helped me to learn to be mindful of the moment. 

My losses have helped me lean away from the temptation towards perfectionism. 

I'm thankful that my losses created the nidus for this conversation.  I'd been contemplating it for months and hadn't been courageous enough to share.  Although the openness of this blog has made some uneasy, it's helped the peace within me flourish and for that, I'll forever be thankful. 

I'm thankful that I've been able to witness through my losses in this way. 

I'm thankful for my experiences of healthcare this side; they're making me a better physician. 

I'm thankful that through my losses, I've had a patient partner to lean on.  I'm thankful he's endured those same losses with me.  I'm thankful that he felt our losses differently than I, because that way we were able to pull and push each other along in healthy ways. 

I'm thankful that my losses and your losses have united us; they bring us together in a unique and powerful way. 

As the song by Unspoken says, "If I'm under fire, I know it's refining me"

It's not natural for us to think this way, but it is necessary.

Because hurt, pain, loss and unfairness will continue to haunt us.

New loss will come in different forms in the future. 

Wiser, stronger, we are refined. 

We're thankful that Someone loves us enough to bother refining us.   

"All my dreams, all my plans, Lord I leave it in your hands...

have your way with me"

I've Always Loved You

"Not you Mar..." were my dad's words when I called home in the first few weeks of medical school and told him that "everybody failed the first anatomy test."  "Not you Mar."  Unconditional love, confidence, faith, and maybe even admiration in me....  "Yes, Dad, me too."

So, on my wedding day, I danced with my dad to a tremendous song by the best Christian band on the planet,  "Don't you know I've always loved you?... Even before there was time... And I always will..." so the song goes.  It's a song telling the story of God's unconditional love for us and it'll make you cry.

Although I'd experienced it in the receiving end, I didn't know much about emoting unconditional love until my brother's son was born.  Before I even met him, I felt true love in my heart for that boy.  I really did, and it shocked me.  Prior to that I really didn't know what everyone was talking about all giddily.  

Recently that same song came on my radio ~ it doesn't get much radio play ~ so that was a special treat. 

Hearing it again got me thinking about my future daughter or son.  I don't know who they are.  I don't know where they are.  I don't know what they are... how their eyes will look, or how their laugh will sound. 

But one thing I do know, is that I love him or her.  Deep down in my soul, I have love.  Set aside just for him or her.  Perhaps it hasn't been there since 'before there was time."  But it's been there for at least two years last August.  At least since that second pink line showed up and I knew I was a mother of two.  I've been dreaming of that girl or boy.  Not in the how cute they'll be on prom night kind of way, but in the companion kind of way.  The story-telling, laughing, keeping me up at night, kind of way.  I imagine my son's sibling relationship and the strength of character that'll grow in him.  I hear a heart-to-heart with my husband and our second child and it's a beautiful image.

My second baby was a girl and my fourth was a boy, the others I don't know.  And again, I don't know what the next will be.  But, that doesn't matter.  I don't really see that the love is being 'transferred' from one baby to another.  It's always been there, right where it belongs, on the heart of the one to come.  The babies I've lost, I love too, but they were never going to Be.  The ship didn't go off course.  It's right on. 

I'm filled with the hope of tomorrow, and of today.  That the baby I've longed for will be here soon.  And I'll finally get to say, "don't you know I've always loved you?"

Probably, he or she won't really know it until he or she sits in this seat one day. 
Unconditional love is really something special,

and from this vantage point is breath-taking. 

Top Twenty Today

After reflecting on my recent post, I wanted to be sure it was clear how I felt about these two things:

1.  Suffering - in absolutely no way, shape or form, does God cause our suffering.  Sharing with Christ in communion doesn't mean God's happy about it, or that He brings it upon us.  Suffering happens because of an imperfect world.  Suffering as it relates to pregnancy problems happens because of medical illness most often.  Something in the process broke down (and no, it wasn't you getting a pedicure, eating deli-meat or not standing on your head for thirty minutes after doing it!) We did nothing to cause this loss, and neither did God.  But we can bear it... together.

2.  Blessings - the abundance of blessings around is truly too plentiful to count.  I mentioned in the last blog about being thankful that my one toddler was napping so I had time to blog.  I thought, as an example, it'd be nice to dissect this statement for a moment to be sure we recognized the many layers of blessing here, and indeed in everything. 

"I have a toddler..."
(1) He's healthy enough to survive to age 3... (2) I was healthy enough to have him...

"I have one toddler..."
(3) Having only one kid allows me some freedoms as he grows and becomes more independent...

"My one toddler is napping..."
(4) Not every three year old naps.... sometimes little babies don't nap... I have a child who's lived to three and still naps... (5) for two hours almost every afternoon... (6) I don't have another baby to keep me busy right now... (7) I don't have chores or other work right now...

"So I can blog..."
I can (8) read, (9) write and (10) type... (11) I've been given the gift of creativity... (12) I've been inspired to share my story... (13) sharing my story has liberated me in ways I never knew possible... (14) sharing my story has allowed me to bear witness to (15) my faith foundations... (16) sharing my story has helped heal me... (17) sharing my story might help heal you... (18) sharing my story has brought me closer to friends I'd lost touch with...

"right now..."
(19)  I'm here right now, writing, praying, thinking... (20) you're here right now... and we're together, miles apart but together in this very real, very beautiful, struggle...

Dear Lord,

Today and always

Guard me against blame

We should not blame you for our loss

Also, please I beg you, do not allow us to blame ourselves

Today and always,

"have your way with me"

Help us "dance in the minefields"

By counting our blessings

In great detail

All the time

We need an attitude of gratitude

Today and always

Amen.

Our Family Story

Probably the most sentimental thing my OB ever said to me was after our first miscarriage.  I was upset but trying to be tough and probably a little embarrassed about crying in front of him and he consoled me saying, "this will always be part of your family story." 

It meant so much to me then and still does today.  I use those words when talking to other friends amidst loss or other changes; the ever so common feeling of 'this is not how I thought things would turn out'. 

Although I do consider myself an optimist, I'm definitely not a romantic.  I think television and the movies have damaged young people's expectations for generations to come; reality will never live up to that which we see there.  I like to say I'm a realistic optimist, which yes I know, is an oxymoron.  But, I do think it's all in your perspective. 

When you're in the middle of a crisis... one of the most trying times of your life....

When you've done "everything right" and things still seem to go wrong...

I think it's then that it's most important for us to embrace 'our story.'  We should be mindful of the moment.  Thoughtful of the big picture.  And yet also give ourselves time to grieve. 

In college the most interesting course I took throughout my four years was entitled "Suffering and the Problem of Evil".  Back then, I hadn't seen the worst of the world; things usually worked out like I'd hoped they would, and only a few people had ever really disappointed me.  And yet, I still felt the class was fabulous.  I took it at the Seminary on the Mount Saint Mary's College campus with several seminarians and a few lay people.  Taught by a prominent theologian who's name I can't remember, I sometimes day-dream about the topics we discussed that semester and wish I could go back. 

I learned that suffering in this life bring us in communion, yes common-union, with Christ.  He was perfect and yet he suffered.  Somehow we've gotten ourselves some very unrealistic expectations in this life.  Even after the Last Supper in Luke 22, Jesus "knelt down and prayed, ⁴² “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done."  I guess, when my babies have died, that I have shared in Christ's suffering.  In the moment, I have never thought of it that way.  But, from this vantage point now, it does help. 

I think it's important to remember that the Bible does not promise us that which the movies do.  He doesn't say it will be easy, He says "I am with you always" (Matthew 28:20)

I also think it's ok to be sad.  Jesus begged God to take his suffering away; so certainly it's ok if we do that too.  However, He didn't expect it to be easy, and we shouldn't either.  I don't know how this idea became instilled in me, but I definitely thought when I was younger that if one bad thing happened (like I didn't win a race one week) then that was my due and certainly next time would be better.  Like it was some law of averages or something.  But, in adulthood I've learned it's not so easy.  It doesn't feel fair.  And we know, from the example we have in Christ, that life is not fair.  He also teaches us, that it's ok to lament that... for a moment.  We don't have to always "keep calm and carry on" when we're in the midst of a major loss.  It's ok to break down. 

And then we have to build ourselves back up.  We should embrace our 'family story.' 
It is not so bad. 
I've blogged before about the freedom in having an only child that's almost three.  Like the sign I recently stole off Pinterest says, "Count your many blessings, name them one by one."  We have many.  More than we can count. 

Mindful of the moment, I'm grateful I have time to blog while my one toddler naps.  God willing, this time next year my younger child will be fussing and won't afford me this time. 

This is not what I ever expected.  When I got married and imagined my family, it did look different than this.  And that is ok.

Don't ask, don't tell?

When it comes to pregnancy, and the chance of miscarriage, when and whether to tell family and friends is always a tough call. 

With my first pregnancy, we waited until the end of the first trimester to tell everyone.  That seemed wise, my Mom had several miscarriages so I knew it was a possibility. 

With our second pregnancy, we waited again.  But, at the end of the first trimester we made big announcements to friends and family, via email and in person.  Five weeks later, we had the most uncomfortable email of our lives to write. 

It was hard, and has only gotten harder, to tell folks of sad news.  Although it can be eloquent in email, it's always awkward in person and I've had several tear-up or cry when I've told them my story in person.  I completely understand that it's hard for them... but that makes it even harder for me.  Neither of us can find the right words. 

And now, as we've decided to pursue adoption and are starting to tell people about that choice, I want to offer some explanation.  There's a large majority of colleagues and acquaintances who don't know the details of we've been through, and then I have to tell.  They wonder "how I looked so good at work through all of that?"  I wonder 'are they sad I didn't share it with them sooner?'  On occasion, I feel guilty.  I've kept the circle relatively small to spare them, and myself, that awkward encounter.  Now I know, the truth usually has a way of coming out. 

A friend of mine who recently suffered miscarriage shared his story; they had seen a heart beat and shared the happy news, only to lose the baby a few days later.  The updated news was much harder to deliver. 

And so, this all makes me wonder whether the golden rule of "don't tell 'til the second trimester" is a wise one after all. 

What I learned is that I had to tell a few people when I was pregnant, because whether I carried to term or not, I was going to need my friends and family to lean on either way.  Through trial and error, I've come to appreciate how important my support system is.  And they can only support me if they know what I'm going through. 

Are we alone because everyone else is self-absorbed?  Or are we alone because we're unwilling to share our fears, our reality?  Are we afraid that if we say it out loud it will make it more real?   

This is certainly one of those times where we should get rid of the guilt, that's for sure.  If you're afraid a friend "who's got it so easy" will feel guilty; just don't worry.  She may, she may not.  But she'll survive.  You deserve for your friend to be a friend.  She deserves to have the opportunity to do so. 

I know one thing I've struggled with is when people say "you're just handling this so well, I'd be a wreck."  Well, when I'm talking to friends from work, it's usually in a crowded hospital hallway.  Although I'm a fragile mother, I'm also a professional, and I know I can't just break down at work.  What else am I supposed to do other than (almost always) keep it together at work?  [I'm only a wreck at home.]

Contrary to many of my other blog posts, as I write this, I am not acutely emotional.  It's just something I've been meaning to blog because I know it was a big issue to me at one time and I know several who continue to struggle with it.  Similarly, I know friends with infertility who struggle with telling their friends of their plight, for fear of not being understood. 

One thing I know is, no one can truly understand.

Because no one is right where I am.

No one is right where you are.  

But another thing I know is, good people can try.  And that makes us feel loved.

When I was in college taking Latin, I shared "vera amicus est alter idem" with my best friend, "a true friend is a second self" (-Cicero).  In adulthood, I've been disappointed that although that friend is still one of my best; I no longer have anyone who I feel that way about.  It seems as though, that as we get older, we grow differently.  Our circumstances, year after year, make us more unique and complex, making it harder for us to truly relate to another's circumstances.  But I also know that with love comes empathy... and almost everyone I love has shown more empathy than I've expected when I've been honest with them. 

So, what do I recommend?  (Warning: here comes the advice column section of this blog ;))

I extremely strongly recommend against big cheerful announcements on social media before the end of your first trimester; because that conjures feelings of jealousy and disgust in people like me (SORRY; but it's true!!)

However, among loved ones, I recommend sharing your news as soon as you're ready.  You'll need someone to laugh and cry with.  You'll need someone to vent to, whether things go well or not.

Those of you who aren't pregnant or trying, I recommend that you ask your friends who are trying, how it's going regularly.  They want to talk about it; I can almost guarantee that.  It is probably consuming them.  They want a safe, non-judgemental place to tell the truth.  Don't call from down a hospital corridor "is that a baby bump I see!?" because that may cause a panic attack (as it did in me several times last spring!).  But, it's ok to ask "having any luck lately?" or "do you and -- still want to have (more) kids?" 

So, those are my thoughts for the day.  Just wanted to share. 

Dear Lord,

My story has gotten long and complicated. 

I want to be understood but

Sometimes I don't know where to start.

Help us to love and be loved.

Help me to be a better friend.

In your name, I pray.