Does God really have a plan?

You want to know the beautiful thing about Facebook?  There's something for everyone.  There's gun lovers pages and pages for fitness gurus and pages for moms and pages for anything and everything under the sun.  It's an incredible way to connect with others like yourself.

For me, this includes being a part of groups specifically for military wives at Fort Drum and groups for those, like myself, that suffer with infertility.

I've learned so much information from these groups.  I'm thankful for them in a number of ways.  I'm also challenged greatly from these groups, specifically those dealing with infertility.

A few days ago on one of these pages, a conversation was started surrounding people's belief in God.  I would say the overall consensus was that these women did believe in God but did not believe in Him having a plan or that our lives are in His hands.

This of course got me to thinking, and so now I pose this question to you.

Here's my thoughts.  And for what it's worth, I've struggled with this greatly over the last two years since I suffered my first and only miscarriage.

God does have a plan.  I don't doubt this.  I know this to be true because it says in Jeremiah 29:11, 

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. "

That's how I know God has a plan for me.

So then why is it that you have a group of women who seemingly believe in God say they don't believe in His plan or even get offended when someone tells them it's (having a baby) in His timing??

Well.  I have an idea.  But it's probably not a popular one.  

We want God's plan to be, to line up, with what we want, not what He wants.

We have this idea in our minds of how our lives should go.  The things we want, the things we don't want.  The age we should get married, the number of kids we should have, the illnesses we should or shouldn't have to deal with, maybe even the age we live to or how we die.  We plan our lives down to the smallest little thing.  

So what happens when we don't get married at the age we wanted?  What happens if we end up with only two kids instead of the 'perfect' three?  What happens if instead of living a long healthy life, we find out suddenly we have cancer?  

What if our plan is not what God's plan is?

What if God says no to marriage?

What if God says no to kids?

What if God says no to a long healthy life?  

What if God's plan says no when your plan says yes?

Do you still believe? 

Do you still believe that there is a God and that that same God does have a plan for your life?  

Do you?  

I've wrestled with this many, many times myself.

All my life I've dreamt of getting married and having kids.  

I've dreamt of Christmas morning when the kids wake up and see their gifts under the tree.

I've dreamt of family vacations full of laughter and fun.

I've dreamt of asking my kids how their day of school was, even if their response is always, "fine."  

This is the plan I've had.  

But is it God's plan?

Maybe.  But maybe not.  

Maybe God's plan doesn't include those Christmas mornings or vacations or after school chats.

But maybe God's plan is better.

I can say with 100% certainty that I wouldn't be who I am if I hadn't suffered a miscarriage, if I hadn't struggled for the last two years with infertility.  I wouldn't be who I am.  And I also know, without a doubt, that I'm a better person because of it.

So can I accept that God's plan might not be my plan?  

Yes.  I can.  Most days.  

Because I've seen God's faithfulness in my life even, and especially when, my plan was not the same as His plan.  I've seen how He's worked in my life even, and especially when, my plan was not the same as His plan. 

So what if God's plan says no when your plan says yes?  

Do you still believe?  

Sunday night ramblings

HI FRIENDS!!!  Wow, has it been a long time or what?!  So much has happened over the last few months, and as always, I have been the worst at updating the blog.  But.  I'm hoping that will change.

So.  What's been going on?

Well, I've settled into my new life in Minnesota as my husband is deployed.  What a huge, huge blessing it has been to be back with my family and friends during this time!  We are just a little bit shy of hitting the halfway mark, and soon we'll be able to start thinking about homecoming.  OH BOY, I CAN'T WAIT!!!  In the meantime though, sweet Hailey Belle and I are hanging out, enjoying this time at home.

And I'm sure this goes without saying, since ya know, my husband is gone, but the journey to Baby Seidler is currently on hold.  Really, if I'm honest, it's been on hold for the better part of 2015, for a lot of different reasons, BUT I've still learned so much over the last, nearly 12 months.

So, let's jump right in.

A few days ago I read this blog by Natasha Metzler, and if you have a chance, it's a good, super quick, read.  This part really stuck out to me though, "It’s easy, when faced with an empty dream, to think, “If I just had this thing…” but it’s a lie. Dear one, did you hear me? It’s a lie. God created us to have relationship with Him. And only in Him will we find enough."

This is something I've struggled with a lot in my journey through infertility.

If only I could have a baby.
If only I didn't have endometriosis.
If only the treatments worked.
If only
If only
If only

The thing is, those statements never end.  There will always be something at the end of that 'if only.'  We are created to want more.  We crave it.  But ultimately, that list of 'if only's' will just keep growing and growing and growing.  

Now fast forward to this morning in church.  We read from 1 Thessalonians 5, verses 16-18.

"Always be joyful.  Never stop praying.  Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you who belong to Christ Jesus."

Did you hear that?  Always be joyful.  Be thankful in all circumstances.

Let me say that again.

Always be joyful.  Be thankful in all circumstances.

It doesn't say be joyful only when times are good.  It doesn't say be thankful only when times are good.

See, that's too easy.  It's too easy to be thankful when everything is good.  When everything is happy. Just as it's too easy to be joyful in those times.

But what about when it's not?

What about when I'm still in the midst of a battle with infertility?  What about when I'm single and don't want to be?  What about when I've lost a family member, a friend, a loved one and I'm facing Christmas without them?  What about then?

Well.

You can still be joyful.  You can still be thankful.

And trust me when I say, I'm writing this for myself as much as anyone else.  Do you think I felt joy or thankfulness when the dr in the ER told me that I had lost my baby?  Um.  No.  I didn't.  So when I say this, please believe that I certainly have not always been able to feel joy and thankfulness during the hard times of my life.  

Then there's the blog I read tonight, which is ultimately what triggered this.

"It’s the lesson I was learning through infertility… the one I was so slow to understand. I needed to stop dreaming and start living the life God had given me."

God has given us everything we need to live a beautiful, fulfilled life, right.where.we.are.

Life is hard.  Can we be honest about that?  Dealing with infertility is hard.  Dealing with deployment is hard.  Trying to navigate through everyday life without wanting to bang my head against the wall every so often is hard.

But God has us in the place we are- where you are, where I am- for a reason, for a very specific purpose.  And it's good.  Oh, it's so good.  If we would just start living in it.  If we would just stop living in the 'if only' moments that we create in our minds.

If only I could have a baby.
If only I didn't have endometriosis.
If only the treatments worked.
If only
If only
If only

If only.

Friends, today I encourage you to stop living in the 'if only' moments.  Stop living for a tomorrow that hasn't even happened yet.  Stop living for the days, weeks, months, maybe even years ahead, that only God knows about.  Start living in today.  The here.  The now.  The moments that matter, and truthfully, the only moments you have, because as it says in Proverbs 27:1, "Don't brag about tomorrow, since you don't know what the day will bring."  Start being thankful and joyful in not just the good times, but the hard times too.  In the seasons where you're looking to God wondering why.  Start living your life the way God intended for it to be lived.  

Who would you have been?

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

I figured this was as good a day as any to get the ole blog going again.

Rather than sharing the more common pink and blue ribbon, I posted this on my instagram and Facebook today.

I'll be honest, I'm not one of those that thinks about my would have been baby every day.  In fact, I go long periods of time without thinking of him/her at all.  When I think about it, I get sad.  I don't like to be sad, so for me, it's easier just to not.  You know what I mean?  But regardless, I will always and forever wonder who that baby would have been.

Would he have been the star of the football team?  
Would she have been the little bookwork that I am?  
Would I have dressed him in the cutest little preppy clothes that I'm sure S would hate?  
Would I have dressed her with bows bigger than her head? <--- YES.  Without a doubt, yes ;)

I don't compare my situation to others, because we all have very unique, individual stories and testimonies, but when I think about the heartache others have suffered that I *know*, or at least imagine, has to have been worse than what I've been through, my heart hurts so much.

To the mom that carried her twins to 30 weeks only to find no heartbeat and have to deliver them stillborn...
To the dad that held his wife's hand and hugged her tight as the ultrasound showed no heartbeat...
To the couple that delivered a baby only to lose him/her hours later...

Today is for you.

Although not everyone has been through what you, me, we, have been through, we all hurt together.

We take today to remember those sweet ones that were just too precious for this earth and think about who you would have been.

Baby Seidler, I miss you always.  I know you would've been awesome.

Surrender

As always, my blogging as been so sporadic as of late.  When there's nothing new going on, it just seems pointless to share what will inevitably turn out to be a page full of rambling, so I just avoid it.  But I imagine as we inch closer to S deploying, that will surely change ;)

Anyways.

In the last few weeks we were able to spend some time in Chicago and Minnesota with our friends and families over leave.  It was SO great being home and seeing everyone, as it always is, but leaving was a little bittersweet this time.  During our time in MN, I kept thinking that the next time I'm home, S won't be coming with me.  The only other time that's happened was during his first deployment.  And here we are again.  It's pretty heartbreaking to think about.

Anyways, again.

While we were home, we were able to drive up to the church that I consider home.  It was where I really grew up.  Became who I am, and I always love being back.  There's just something about being there again.  Even though I don't recognize most of the faces anymore, there's a certain level of comfort and peace that comes over me when I walk into that building.  I've only heard their {newish} pastor a few times since he's been there, but the message he gave that day was really, really good.  I didn't even really have time to process it until yesterday because of how crazy and busy our weeks were while we traveled.  So yesterday I sat down and rewatched the sermon.

Oh boy.

There was some good stuff in there.

Basically, he talked about surrendering our lives to God.  This is something I really struggle with, as I'm sure most people do if they really admit it.  One of the first things he asked was what might God ask of me if I surrender my life 100% to Him?

Do I really want to know?
Would I even be willing to do it?

Here's the thing.  Maybe I don't want to know what would happen if I surrendered to Him completely.  Maybe I wouldn't even be willing to do whatever it was if it really came down to it.  But.  What if I was?  What if I knew that when I surrendered, Jesus would lead me to what is best?  What if I knew that when I surrendered, when I honored Jesus with my life, He would honor me?  Then would I be willing?

As with most things in my life these days, I started thinking of this idea of surrender and how it relates to my struggle with infertility.  I'm 21 months post miscarriage and still no closer to having a baby today than I was then.  Over the last, maybe 6 or so, months, this has become incredibly frustrating to me.  I really began thinking that maybe, just maybe, a baby isn't in my future.  Maybe it will just be S, our sweet pup Hailey, my stepsons, and me in our family.  Maybe I just needed to accept that and move on.  And maybe that's true.  Maybe.  But maybe it isn't.

I did a Google search of what it means to surrender to God and came across an article written by Rick Warren, author of The Purpose Driven Life.  In it he wrote this, surrendering your life means waiting on God's timing, expecting a miracle without knowing how God will provide, and trusting God's purpose without understanding the circumstances.

I've said throughout this whole journey that I don't really understand it.  Why do I have to go through this?  Why does it have to hurt so much?  Why does it have to be so hard?  But maybe part of the reason I've never understood is because I've never surrendered it to God.  I've tried to control it, push it, make it happen, but have I ever really surrendered to His plan?  If I'm honest, no.  Not even a little.

And then at the end of the passage, it said this,

"Genuine surrender says, "Father, if this problem, pain, sickness, or circumstance is needed to fulfill your purpose in my life or someone else's life, please don't take it away!""

Oh, God, I pray that be true in my life.

For whatever reason, whatever purpose, this is the life I've been given.  And I'm learning that, even in the darkest of times, it's a beautiful life that God is asking me to let go of and give to Him.  No matter the cost.

The 'D' Word

Gosh, has it been forever since I blogged or what?!  Lots has been happening in the month since my last post!

At the end of May, S flew down to Arizona to pick up his boys and bring them back to NY for the summer.  It has been crazy having two high energy boys around all day long, but it has been fun!  Definitely teaching me a thing or two about patience ;)

We also got hit with the big "D" word last week.  In a normal person's world, that usually means divorce.  Not here.  In our world, it means deployment :(

So yeah, we're heading down that road again.  I'm not ready.  Nowhere near ready actually.  I don't think there's ever a way to be ready for something like this, but it's coming whether I'm ready or not.  With his first deployment, I totally embraced the saying ignorance is bliss.  I had no expectations of what it would be like, but this time I know.  And it sucks.

To be honest, I'm a lot more scared this time than I was last time.  Maybe it's because I know the danger he'll be in.  Maybe it's because I know him and how he'd give up his own life to save someone else.  Maybe it's because we've done the army thing long enough now that I know people that have lost spouses or friends doing exactly what he's being sent off to do.  And it's scary.  Really, really scary.

We still have a little time together, but I know the weeks will fly by and before I know it, we'll be saying 'see you later' again.  Walking away from him knowing I wouldn't see him again for 9 months was hands down the hardest thing I've done in my life, and I'm about to do it again.  Somehow I have to get ready.  Somehow I'll have to do it.  I don't know how I will.

So, everything else is on the back burner for now.  All I can do is get through the next days and months in this new chapter of our lives.  

I know God doesn't give us more than we can handle, but these days I feel like my breaking point is just around the corner.

When you're a momma to an angel... Mother's Day 2015.

I've never been one to wish time away.  Days, weeks, months, whatever, I usually try to take advantage of every day I'm given.  Even when S was deployed, I didn't want to waste my whole first year in NY crying and simply waiting for the day he was home again.

But then last night, something hit me like a ton of bricks.  You know that feeling?  That overwhelming, can't deny it, and kind of don't want to deal with it ton of bricks feeling?

Mother's Day.  Sunday is Mother's Day.

I've always loved that there's a day devoted entirely to moms.  They deserve it, don't they?  If your mom is anything like my mom, then the answer is yes.  Over and over again, the answer would be yes.

But this year is different.

This is the first Mother's Day that I should be getting to participate in.  Instead, I'm thinking I want to stick my head in the sand and wait for the day to ever so slowly, but surely, pass.  I want to open a tub of ice cream and stay off of Facebook and Instagram and wait until all the Mother's Day posts are over.  I want to scream and cry and hide in my bed.  I want to have my baby here.

But none of that can happen.

I've come so far since the miscarriage.  I've learned to accept what was, what is, what will be.  I've come to terms with not throwing a first birthday party, not watching them go to kindergarten, not loving on them every day I'm given.  I've learned to be thankful for the trials because without them, I'm not me.

But there's something about Mother's Day, a day that you should get to celebrate, but yet again, for another year, you can't.  A day when you are suddenly overwhelmed with thinking about what might have been but isn't.  A day when you think about the sweet baby boy or baby girl that was only with you for what seemed like the blink of an eye.

And it hurts.  It all just hurts.

When you're a momma to an angel, nobody sends you a Happy Mother's Day text.  No cards are bought or flowers given, because at the end of the day, that precious baby only exists in your mind and heart.  There's no evidence that they were ever real.  There's no baby screaming when they're hungry or cuddles when they're sad.  There's no sleepless nights or dirty diapers to change.

There's only a whisper of what was that is swept away with the wind, with another passing day.

When you're a momma to an angel, you're only a mother in your mind, in your heart, but to the rest of the world, you're just another person.  Childless.  

What I told myself.

Over the last year, everything in my life seemed to revolve around making Baby Seidler happen.  I hoped, I prayed, I wished that something would work, that somehow I would become pregnant again.  After many months, many appointments, many needle pokes, and many prescriptions taken, nothing had worked.

In December of last year, I decided to put things on hold for awhile.  We were traveling, so that made sense.  Then January came and S was away for training, so it made sense then too.  I had started working out again heavily and knew that being back in the fertility treatment game would throw things off, so taking February off made sense too.  Well, then came March.  I didn't want to start again, but I did.  All of it.  When the result was once again a negative, I knew I didn't want to try again in April.  I wanted to take time to put everything I could into working out and getting healthy again.

Or at least that's what I told myself.

In reality, I think I just couldn't take the heartbreak of another failed month when if whatever... the cycle didn't work.  I knew that the time was ever so slowly creeping up when they would tell me an iui was the next best option.  I didn't want to hear that.  And so, somewhere along the way, the idea began to settle into my head and heart that if it never happened, if it never worked and a baby was just not part of God's plan for my life, I'd be ok.

Or at least that's what I told myself.

It wasn't so much that I was giving up as it was I just truly believed maybe I wasn't meant to be a mother.  And at some point, I was going to have to learn to accept that, so, the sooner the better.

And then I watched this video.

Have you seen it?  It's completely adorable and exciting and good in all the right ways.  This couple, who also struggled with infertility, finally became pregnant... with TRIPLETS!  They told all their family and friends they were having twins though and at the gender revealed, surprised everyone with the news.

I don't know what it was, maybe it was just the excitement, maybe it's because I know their struggle, or maybe it's just because I take after my mom and can cry at a commercial occasionally, but whatever it was, I sat on the stairs of our house watching and crying.  Sobbing, really.  It made me think I want that.  I.Want.That.  I eventually went into our bedroom and hid myself away to spare myself the embarrassment of having to explain to S that I was crying over a video of people I don't even know.

I think it's easy to give up on the things we want in life.  I didn't really see myself as giving up, because I figured at some point I'd plunge back into it, but I didn't know if I'd ever want to, if I'd ever really be ready again.  If I'd ever be mentally, emotionally, physically ready to try, and if it failed, deal with the heartbreak.

This kind of lit of fire under me though.  It reminded me of everything I wanted and why I wanted it.  I've loved having this time off, time to devote to me and my health, and I don't know when I'll start up again, but I know that when I do, I'll be ready.  I'll want it, and I'll be prepared to fight for it.

Sometimes all it takes is a random thing, a random moment, a random video, to stir up the fight in you again.  If you're struggling with something and ready to give up, don't.  There's a reason you wanted it in the first place, there's a purpose for it, and I have no doubt that God put that desire in your life, in my life, for a reason.  Believe that.

You're not alone. Except when you are.

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week.  

Last year, even after suffering a miscarriage, I was unaware of this week.  I was unaware that I would be, was, am one of those 1 in 8.  

I.Had.No.Idea.

Now I do.  

I'm painfully, tearfully, frustratingly aware of what it means to be 1 in 8.

The catchphrase, if you will, of this week is, "You are not alone."

In some ways, that's true.  1 in every 8 people get it.  They understand the frustration, the struggle, the tears, the fears, the unknowns of infertility.  In fact, there's an entire community of people that you are not alone with.

In other ways though, maybe most ways, infertility has never made me more aware of my aloneness.

Even if you are surrounded by people -- family, friends, coworkers -- most of them will at some point have kids.  You won't.  You can't. Your friends, the ones you once had so much in common with, don't seem to be as in touch as they used to.  They start to make friends that have kids, and their bond goes deeper, goes to something you just can't understand because you haven't been there.  You may never be there.  

In a world where 1 in 8 understand, there are still 7 in 8 that don't.

When I'm in the midst of doing treatments, I'm acutely aware of how different I am from those around me.  But it's times like now, times when I've stepped back, when the appointments stop, when the blood draws stop, when the medications aren't being taken, that I can pretend I'm of of the 7.  How badly I wish I was.  For a moment, I can pretend that I'm normal.  That my life hasn't, doesn't, won't continually revolve around appointments and blood draws and medications.

But it has.  It does.  It will.

And with every month that passes, that fact is made known over, and over, and over again.

Despite that, I'm still thankful.  I'm thankful for the struggles, the tears, the fears, the frustrations, the anger.  There has been so much growth, and I am who I am today because of being 1 of the 8.

And in the end, I am not alone.

Except when I am.

Goodbye. For now.

CD1.

Cycle day 1.

For those of you that don't know what it means, it means I'm not pregnant.  Again.  Still.  Whatever.

It means that all those appointments, all those pills, all those shots, all of it didn't work.  Again.
It was pointless.  Again.

I think I've reached the point where it's too hard to keep trying but hurts too much to think about quitting.

My body is tired.
My mind is tired.
My hope is dwindling.

My fear is that none of this will work and they'll tell me an iui is the next logical step.  Well.  An iui (intrauterine insemination) costs roughly $1000 each time.  We are a 1 income, military family with bills and loans and 2 kids (S's boys) that all require money.  So can we save for it?  Sure.  We probably could.  But let's say we do an iui and it doesn't work.  We just blew $1000 that could have been put towards another bill, loan, or existing kid.  Now we start the saving process again.  How long does this process continue before it works, before the money we've potentially saved and spent is worth it?

I wouldn't say I'm necessarily giving up, but honestly, I don't see an end in sight.  I don't see a point where this is over and the payoff is worth it.  And I really don't know how much longer I can keep going.  How much longer I want to keep going.

This may all sound contradictory to what I've been preaching this entire time, that God's plan is greater and I have faith it will all work out, and I still believe that 100%.  I just think maybe God's plan is different than the plan I have.  Had.  I do believe it will work out, but maybe it's going to work out in a way I didn't imagine.  Maybe the life I dreamed of and planned, isn't the life I'm going to get.

I still have some of my meds leftover from this last cycle, so, at least for now, the plan is to take April off.  Give it a rest, let my body recover and be med free for a little bit.  Then in May, I'll pick it back up.  I'm certainly not going to let good meds go to waste, but I think May will be the last cycle for awhile.

My head isn't in this.
My body isn't in this.
Most importantly, my heart isn't in this.

It wasn't too long ago that I was over the moon to finally be at the point where I could say, we are officially trying.  But that trying, and trying, and trying, and trying, wears a person out.  Mostly mentally.  At some point, you want to see the reward of all that trying.  I haven't gotten that.  I don't know if I will.  And honestly, I'm oddly at peace with it.  I think I've accepted that maybe a baby just isn't in the cards.  All the cute baby clothes and nursery decorations and bottles and swings and all the tiny things, it just might not happen.

Maybe it will.
Maybe it won't.  

Search Result

Whatever will be, will be, and as long as at the end of the day, at the end of wherever this process takes us, God is given the glory, that something good comes of it, then it will have been worth it.

  

I am {not} a failure.

"The enemy keeps telling me I'm a failure," he wrote.  "I know it's not true.  I know what the Bible says, that I'm a conqueror, but it's like the proof keeps stacking up, and I can't refute it.  How many times can I fail before I have to admit, you know what, maybe I actually am a failure?"

-Steven Furtick, Crash the Chatterbox-

Infertility, heck, life, has a way of knocking you down.  This is something I've struggled with since I first lost my sweet baby in October of 2013.  Everyone told me it wasn't my fault.  I couldn't have done anything differently to change the outcome.  I wasn't a failure.  But that's not how I felt.  It was my loss, my miscarriage, my body.  Nobody else did that, I did, or rather my body did.

Most days, I know it's not my fault.  But in a hard time, a moment of weakness, I feel it in every part of me.  It.Was.My.Fault.  I am a failure.  

Over the course of the last year as I learned I have cysts, endometriosis, and will likely struggle with infertility for the rest of my life, the idea that I am a failure has been reinforced over. and over. and over.  If I didn't do something to cause this, I must have done something to deserve it, so no matter which way you look at it, it.is.my.fault.  I am a failure.  

I'm failing myself.
I'm failing my husband.
I'm failing my family.

Nobody can feel the weight of that but me.  It's my body.  My body, my problem, my failure.

I read that opening paragraph by Steven Furtick yesterday morning.  I loved it immediately.  How many times have I said the same exact thing to myself and to S?  How many times have I felt that very thing, that I am a failure, over the last year?  Countless.  It's almost engrained into who I am at this point.
  
Then, last night I was reading The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins when I came across a section on the character's struggle with infertility that really jumped out at me.  It again toyed with the idea that if you suffer from infertility, you must be a failure, or at the very least, feel like it.

"I was still young, there was still plenty of time, but failure cloaked me like a mantle, it overwhelmed me, dragged me under and I gave up hope."  "Tom didn't feel the way I did.  It wasn't his failure, for starters, and in any case, he didn't need a child like I did."       

That's the thing about failure, it's not just a feeling.  It's overwhelming.  It starts to take over who you are.  It starts to become who you are.
 
But the truth is, I'm not a failure.

My body may have failed me.  It may continue to fail me.  But I am not a failure.  That's not who I am.

The definition of failure is 'an act or instance of failing or proving unsuccessful.'  Did you see that?  An instance of failing.  One moment.  That's it.  That moment, that instance, of failure does not have to define me.  It does not have to be who I am or who I become.

And really, if I'm a failure, then what does that say about my Creator?  Did He make me to be a failure?

"For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb.  I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." 

-Psalm 139:13-14-

No, He certainly didn't make me as a failure.  I was fearfully and wonderfully made when He created me.  And although my body may fail me in an instance, that's all there is to it.

I am not a failure.

DIY rustic headboard

Somehow in the middle of driving an hour to Syracuse every other day for my appointments, we managed to buy a new bed.  YAY!!  The one we had was getting quite old and quite uncomfortable.  Initially we thought we'd just get a queen, same as our old, but in the end we bought a king so we could fit the two of us and Hailey, our dog, because we like our space ;) Either way, we were going to need a new headboard.  Since we had already spent a good chunk on the actual bed itself, plus needing new bedding, I wasn't keen on paying $150+ just for a headboard.  I searched Pinterest and after tons of looking and reading blogs, this is what we came up with.  I'm completely in love with it, and for a total of under $50, I'm SO happy we decided to make it ourselves rather than shelling out the cash.  Plus, S got to use the new saw he got for Christmas, so that was a plus, obviously ;) 

For the wood we bought 2 2x4 and 5 2x6 boards.  I believe they were pine, but S did the buying, so I'm not 100% sure.  Each 2x6 was around the $4 mark though.  

We had already decided we wanted the height of the headboard (from the floor to the top) to be 55 inches and the width would be the same as the bed, so 76 inches.  

Once all the wood was home, we laid them out how we wanted them to be once they were put together and marked each one 1-5.  S then measured each one and cut and sanded them to have a more finished, smooth look.  He also marked and drilled the holes on each 2x6 where they would later be screwed into the 2x4's.  In total there were 20 holes, 4 per board.

   

When he finished sanding each board, he'd bring it in to me where I'd stain it.  We decided on a dark walnut color to keep it a nice, rustic brown.  Each 2x6 got 3 coats of stain, and each 2x4 got 2 coats.

  

After they were dried, we laid everything out to make sure it looked how we wanted to.  When it looked how we wanted to, each 2x6 got screwed onto the 2x4's.  

We then brought it upstairs and using nuts and bolts, it got fastened onto the bed frame.  

And that was basically it!  It seems to be pretty sturdy and was really very simple to make, mostly just time consuming.  This could be done with 1 person, but having us both work on it was really nice.  Overall, I'm obsessed and completely happy with the end result!!

Two weeks in the life of...

Infertility.
It's not what you think.
On the surface, it's the struggle to get pregnant.  Or, not being able to get pregnant at all.  Maybe.

In reality?  It's this.

5 appointments.
12 1/2 hours spent driving to and from appointments.
5 blood draws.
5 ultrasounds.
4 oral medications daily.
3 suppositories.
5 husband-assisted stomach shots.
$130 spent on prescriptions.
Countless phone calls to doctor's office and pharmacy.

Phew.  I'm tired just looking at that.  And thinking about how much time I've spent in the car in the last, not even, two weeks.  I could be more than half way to Minnesota by now ;)

This is my life ladies and gents, in all it's beautifully imperfect infertile glory.

.
.
.
.
.

It will be worth it.

It will be worth it.

It will be worth it.....

Will it be worth it?

It.Will.Be.Worth.It. 

Hot flashes, headaches, and bloating, OH MY!

In the past I haven't given many updates during a cycle as to how I've been feeling, how the meds are affecting me, etc.  I've done overall updates on the cycle and on my appointments, but nothing super specific.  The further we get into this crazy journey however, the more I'm finding I want to document it.  Someday, I'm hoping I can show our baby what we went through to get them here.  And since this is day 3 of my meds, I'm wishing I would have remembered how truly miserable this can be, so there's a good reason to write it down too, right? ;)

Ok, so, day 3.

Thursday night I started my third round of Letrozole.  This one is taken to aid in egg growth and quality.  Friday I added in two more meds that are new this cycle.  I can barely pronounce them, let alone understand what they do, and even with all my googling, their purposes are still fuzzy.  But I'm fairly sure they do in fact do something!

When I was at the dr's office on Thursday, the nurse was going over my meds and said to start two of them on Friday because if I take them too late in the day, I'll wake up at 3 in the morning wide awake, ready to go.  Well.... oops.  Yeah, that's actually a thing.  Apparently her warning didn't help.  So last night I woke up from a deep sleep and thus began a long night of being awake but being so tired you feel like you're sleeping.  I'm not sure how much sleep I actually got, but you can bet I took my meds earlier tonight!

Other than that, the only side effects I've experienced have been hot flashes, major bloating resulting in a tight wedding ring, and an annoying headache that just never seems to leave.  But if this is the worst of it, at least for now, well that's ok by me.

And since this seems to be a pretty accurate depiction of my life these days, just replace ear ache with baby, I leave you with this.

   

Cycle 3 is underway!

Alright, so we're officially back in the 'too many doctors appointments, more needle pokes that I like in a week, and lots of medications that I can barely pronounce let alone know what they do' stage of making Baby Seidler.

Yesterday I had my baseline blood work and ultrasound to see where things were at and if I could go ahead with starting the medications.  The only concern the nurse had was a cyst on one of my ovaries.  She thought it was probably just a post-ovulatory cyst though.  At the end of the appt, she told me to start my medications and I never got a call saying any different, so I'm assuming the cyst isn't producing enough estrogen to make a difference, so that's great!

In the past, I've done 2 identical cycles.  5 days of Letrozole (helps with ovulation) and a trigger shot (forces ovulation) later in the cycle.  I was happy with starting there, but being this is our third cycle, it was time for something else.  The nurse assured me that the things we're doing this time are a great step up from the last two cycles.  I asked her if there's a chance that this will work or if I'm wasting my time, and again, she assured me that I'm not wasting my time.  Of course there's no guarantee that it will work, and that's not even what I'm looking for, but I want to know that I'm not putting myself through all of this for absolutely no reason.

The other day, when I initially said we'd be starting treatment again, I was pretty down.  I wasn't into it, and to be honest, I didn't want to start again.  But I did anyways.  One of the biggest reasons for me is that we won't be here at Fort Drum forever.  I trust my doctor, and I know that he's really good at what he does, so the longer I can be in his care, trying to get/being pregnant, the better.  Now that I'm back in the saddle though, I'm feeling good about it.  I guess it's kind of like when you start working out for the first time.  It sucks at first, it's more of a forced thing you do because you know you should, but after awhile, it becomes good, it becomes routine.  That's where I'm at now.  I'm sorting through pills and reading over treatment plans and spending lots of time driving back and forth to Syracuse, but if this is what it takes to get a sweet baby in my arms, I'll do it.

Right at this moment, I'm feeling... cautiously optimistic.  I'm certainly not walking around with rose colored glasses thinking, or knowing, that this is going to work, but if I don't have at least a little hope, then I shouldn't be doing it.  I'm also still working hard to get healthy again, so I'm hoping that will help as well.  At the very least, it can't hurt.

So that's where we're at for now.

I'm praying for good things over these next few weeks and still trusting that God's hand is at work here.  For whatever reason, I'm going through this, and as much as it truly sucks and is heartbreaking at times, God is using it.  He has used it and will continue to do so, I have no doubt.

Crazy, beautiful journey

Yesterday was a hard day for me.

So often I come on here to share those moments that I've been really encouraged, and that's great.  I love those moments.  They are uplifting to me, and I've found they've been uplifting to others as well.  But it's not often that I share my struggles.

And.Struggle.I.Do.

It's taken me a long time to get to a place where I feel I've become {mostly} ok with my situation.  Where I've {mostly} accepted that this is my story, my future.  But there are those moments, those days, where I cannot deal.  I don't know how.  I don't want to.  I just want it to end.

Yesterday was that moment, that day.

My frustration wasn't so much about the whole not being pregnant yet thing, although I suppose I wouldn't be feeling this way if I was, but it was more about just not wanting to do anymore fertility treatments.

No more drives to Syracuse.
No more needles.
No more blood draws.
No more frustrating phone calls with pharmacies.
No more medications.
No more of any of it.

These last few months have been so good not worrying about or dealing with any of that stuff.  I just had fun.  I focused on me for once and not on my inability to get pregnant.  It was amazing.  Truly amazing.  Yesterday that came crashing down, and at a time when I wasn't really expecting it to.

Then last night I got to thinking about it all, and I realized that while my frustration and fear is partly due to not wanting to start with treatments again, it's also partly about the end.  What happens if in the end, I put my body, my mind, my emotions through all of this, and I still don't get what I want?

I've said so many times that God has a plan.  I believe that, I know that, I trust that wholeheartedly.  But somewhere in my mind, I've always trusted that, no matter the length of time it took to get there, that plan would end in me having a baby.  It just would.  Last night it dawned on me that 'the plan', God's plan, the one I've been believing and trusting, might not end the way I want it to, the way I've always imagined it would.  It just might not.

So yeah, yesterday was a hard day.

But something really beautiful came out of it.  While I felt so upset and so defeated, I also felt extremely encouraged.  I am SO thankful for each one of you that has sent a message saying you understand what I'm going through, saying you're praying for me, or just left a note letting me know you're thinking of me.

I don't know what tomorrow holds.  I don't know what this month, next month, or the rest of this year will hold.  But I do know that this journey has taken me to unexpected places and brought people into my life in unexpected ways.  I don't always understand it, I certainly don't always like it, but in the end, I'm thankful for it.  In some crazy, I don't get it at all, kind of way, it's beautiful journey I'm on.    

So here's to cycle 3 of fertility treatments.  May you pass quickly and not mess with my emotions too much ;)
       

Here we go. Again.

But He said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.  

-2 Corinthians 12:9-10-

Today, I am weak.  My spirit is weak.  My faith is weak.  My mind is numb, and well, weak.

I have not stepped foot in my doctor's office in 3 1/2 months.  Those were some glorious months I had.  No needle pokes, no ultrasounds, no defeating news, nothing.  All of it was forgotten.

Until today.

Today I went in to have an ultrasound and blood work done and to talk to them about what the plan might be for moving forward.  When I walked in, the receptionist immediately said she needed to talk to me and quickly let me know that my insurance no longer covers the monitoring (blood work and ultrasounds) for iui (intrauterine insemination) cycles.  Prior to Jan 1, the cost of an iui was roughly $300.  Now they're tipping the scale at $900.  At the end of 2014, an iui would have been our next step.  That's all but out of the question now.  I realize a lot of people do it.  Somehow they come up with the money.  They save.  They stop going out to eat and seeing movies and spending money in places it doesn't need to be spent.  Not me.  I can't justify spending over $900 on something that has a low chance of working anyways when we have car payments and school loans and the need for S to see his boys this summer.  It just can't happen.

So, this appointment was off to a rocky start.

I'll spare you the details of the blood work and u/s, but after they were done, my nurse for today helped me come up with a plan.  I wasn't fully prepared to start with all the medications, etc right away.  I've so enjoyed my time off that the thought of starting again just hasn't appealed to me.  But that's where we are.  I can't even begin to tell you what all I'll be doing and taking and injecting into my body because, truthfully, I don't know.  So many names of medications were rattled off that I just sat back and decided to trust that she knows what she's talking about.  I'll cross the bridge of needing to know when the time comes.

So here I sit, trying to process it all, and I just can't.  In some part of my mind, I thought this would all be over by now.  I'd be blissfully sitting here giving my weekly pregnancy update, Pinteresting nursery ideas and watching birth videos and preparing to never sleep again, but I'm not.  Instead, I'm sitting here with tears rolling down my cheeks wondering how this is still going on.  And why.  Why is it still going on.  Honestly, I'm not looking forward to starting everything again.  Not even a little bit.  But I am.  Today S asked me why I'm doing it then.  If I dread it so much, why do it.  I looked at him and said, "Wouldn't you do anything you could to have the one thing you want more than anything in this world?  It doesn't mean I have to like it or be excited, but I'm doing it because I can't give up yet."

But friends, it hurts.  My heart hurts, and it's weak.  Thankfully there is good news too.  The first thing is, according to the nurse anyways, I don't have 40 year old ovaries and eggs, so my age is on my side.  The second is that Christ's grace is sufficient for me, and His power is made perfect in weakness.

Before I left, the nurse said to me, "I know this is hard.  I know it's a long process, and it's taxing emotionally.  And as corny as it sounds, you have to have faith that this will work."

My faith in the process is kind of lacking right now, but I'll trust her, and I'll trust the God who I know has this situation in His hands.  My prayer for today is that though I may be weak, I may also be strong.
  

An update.

Has it been quiet around here or what?!  My last post was nearly a month ago.  Woah!  Well the truth is not much has been going on.  Nothing exciting enough that a blog post was required, or warranted for that matter, anyways.

But I did want to check in and give an update, albeit a boring update, on what's been happening lately.

While S was away for training in January, I decided that it was long overdue to get my butt back in the gym.  Between the miscarriage and a year of fertility stuff, my weight and health got put on the back burner.  Anyone who has done fertility treatments can probably agree with me when I say that going to the gym is about the last thing you want to do when you're doped up on meds.  It was about the last thing I wanted to do anyways.  Sleep and eating however were at the top of the list.  So six weeks ago, I started hitting the gym again, my eating habits began to change, and now here we are, nearly 16 pounds lighter and feeling much better than I did when the new year rolled around.

The first time I got pregnant, I had lost quite a bit of weight due to the stresses of deployment and not having much else to do besides work and go to the gym.  I can't say for sure if that had something to do with it, but if shedding a few lbs and getting healthy again could aid in getting pregnant, than I'm willing to give it a try.

So that's pretty much what I've been up to.  I'll be calling the dr's office to talk to them about our next steps, but for now, I'm really kind of enjoying not being poked with needles and making the hour long drive to Syracuse for every appointment.

In other news, I wanted to share something that I came across from a fellow blogger the other day.  If you'd like to read her post, you can do so here, but she had a verse in there that really struck me.

As Jesus was walking along, he saw a man who had been blind from birth.  

"Rabbi," his disciples asked him, "why was this man born blind?  Was it because of his own sins or his parents' sins?"  

"It was not because of his sins or his parents' sins," Jesus answered.  "This happened so the power of God could be seen in him."    

-John 9:1-3-

I've spent a lot of time asking myself, maybe even asking God, why me.
Why do I have to go through this?
Why can't I just be normal?
Why does it have to hurt so much and take so long?
Why do others get babies and I can't just have baby?
Why.  Why.  Why.

I've convinced myself that it's because I deserve it.  I've done something, anything, to deserve it.  My rational, brain using, self, wants to be able to explain this somehow.  My sins must be the cause of this.  I just know it.  And I became ok with it.  This journey, this chapter of my life, this diagnosis, it's my cross to bear, and I've earned it.

But I also convinced myself of something else.

Even if I do deserve this, even if my sins are so great that I deserve to struggle with infertility, God.Will.Use.This.  He has used this, and I know without a doubt that He will continue to use this.

So when God says, "It was not because of his sins or his parents' sins.  This happened so the power of God could be seen in him," I believe it.

I believe that through me, my story, my journey, my struggle, God will be seen.  His power will be seen.  His majesty will be seen.  His all encompassing goodness will be seen.

If I know nothing else to be true, that's ok.  I will rest in the truth that all of this is not for nothing.      

A secret club

It's been awhile since I last blogged.  Nothing has been going on since S has been gone, so things in the Seidler household have become quite boring.  I'm ok with it, but I'm very ready for my husband to be home again!

If you're friends with me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram, you may have seen my post last night.  It was a little lot "woe is me" kinda post.  For whatever reason, I was just having one of those nights.  I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.  Whether you suffer from infertility or are just a human girl, you know what I'm talking about.  

You see, I've found myself part of this ultra exclusive club over the last year+.  It's real easy to get in, but impossibly difficult to get out of.  You'll do almost anything in your power to get out of it, but once you're in, you're in for life.  And it's never fun.  Never, ever.  And every once in a while, you're going to break down when you least expect it, for absolutely no reason, just because you want to be out of this club.  

This.Is.My.Life.

But, as has been the routine over the last year, just when I'm feeling down, just when I find myself having one of those nights, God shows up in a big way.

I've been watching the most recent series from Elevation Church called The Power of Same.  It has been great, but today's (well, not really today's, but I watched it today) sermon was powerful.  The title was, "This May Take Awhile."  How fitting.  One of the very first things that really struck me, that made me realize this was going to be a life altering sermon, was this,

"Sometimes the times when you feel the least fruitful are the times when God is preparing you for the greatest gifts He's going to give."

This series has been based off of John 15.  If you haven't read it, you should, but here's a little excerpt.

"I am the true grapevine, and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch of mine that doesn't produce fruit, and He prunes the branches that do bear fruit so they will produce even more."

-John 15:1-2-

The idea is that God prunes, or even cuts off, the parts of our lives that shouldn't be there or need work.  Sometimes it's in obvious ways, sometimes it's not.  In my life?  It's pretty dang obvious.  Infertility has been the thing that has taken the most pruning I think.  I've often seen it as a punishment.  I've wondered, and said more times than I can count, what I did to deserve this.  Am I such a bad person that I don't deserve a baby?

No.  No, it's not a punishment, and no, it's not because I don't deserve it.

It's because of this,

"God was just cutting you back because He's got more in store, and if it's cut back, it's coming back."

God has been pruning and preparing and working and shaping and molding this entire time, so that someday, even if it takes awhile, I will be ready.  So S and I will be ready.

This is the question Pastor Steven asked, "Is this worth my while?  Is this going to make me fruitful?"

I thought about that a lot.  Is this journey with infertility worth my while, is it going to make me fruitful?  Up until now, eh, I'm not sure it has.  I've spent so much time focusing on what I don't have rather than focus on what is coming.  Do I know that in the end a baby is the thing that's coming?  No.  But I do know that God is going to make this worth my while.  I want to be the kind of person that, even in the darkness, I will still find joy.  I will still worship.  I will still praise His name.  He's using this in my life.  It's taken me a long time, and a lot of sermon watching, to figure it out, but He is.

And in the end, this is the most important lesson of all,

"Don't disconnect while He's pruning you.  God is going to make it worth your while."     

How's the baby making?

So, how's the baby making going?

Well.

Simply put, it's not.

In October when we started our first medicated cycle, I imagined 1 of 2 things happening.  Either 1. I would get pregnant before 2014 was over, or 2. if both October and November resulted in failed cycles, we would take December off for traveling and in January I would do an iui (intrauterine insemination) while Sean is gone.

Well, October came and went.  November came and went.  December came and went.  And now here we are.  January 9th, 2015.  In our fourth month of "trying" and no closer to having a baby than when we started.

In a previous post I mentioned that I may end up deciding not to do in iui this month.  As the time came closer and closer, I decided not to do it.  There were a few reasons for that.

1. I didn't know if I had the strength to get through it without S here.  He has been my rock so often during this process, and I just couldn't imagine having to take this big step without him.  Could I do it?  Yes.  Probably.  Maybe.  Do I want to do it?  Absolutely not.

2. Over the last few months, the dreaded "d" word has been tossed around more and more.  With a possible deployment creeping up, my anxiety and fears started to grow.  What if I don't get pregnant? What if I do?  What if I have to wait another year?  What if I have to give birth without him?  All the questions started swirling, and slowly but surely, they settled into my heart until I felt nothing but scared.  Scared that things wouldn't work out.  Scared that they would.  Either I wouldn't get pregnant and I'd have to wait and wait and wait, again, or it would work out and S wouldn't even be here to go through it with me.  If I'm going to do an iui, I want it to be because I'm comfortable with the choice, not because I'm scared.  If I do it only because I'm scared, that shows a lack of faith on my part, and that's not something I'm comfortable with.

3. If I'm going to do an iui, put myself through the cost, the medications, and the possibility of heartbreak, I want it to be because I have 100% faith that it could work.  Not necessarily that it will on try 1, but I want to give myself the best possible odds I can.  I don't think I'm at that point.  After my miscarriage, I was sad.  Out of control, inconsolably sad.  I don't know that I'd say I was depressed necessarily, but things were certainly heading in that direction.  I didn't know how to pull myself out of it.  And then I did, or God did I should say.  I prayed and prayed and prayed.  I gave it to God, and somehow, someway, I began to heal.  But then.  Then, thing after thing after thing happened.  First it was endometriosis, then it was waiting, then it was surgery, then it was, then it was, then it was.  There.Was.Always.Something.  I put so much of myself into fertility treatments that I put nothing into myself.  While S was deployed, I spent a lot of time in the gym.  That all went away.  Now, I'm ready to fix that.  I feel 1,000% better mentally than I did at this time last year, and I'm ready to put time into me again.  To feel better, to be better.

So what comes next?  Honestly, I don't know.  I'm just really taking these next three weeks to focus on me.  To spend time on myself.  To get healthy.  To not focus on medications and shots and appointments.  We'll see where things stand next month, but for now, I'm just enjoying this.  Me.

I'm scared about the possibly of S deploying and still not being pregnant, but I have a feeling that if I get things in order health wise now, everything will fall into place later.  And in the mean time, I continue to trust that God's plan is greater than mine, and if I haven't gotten pregnant yet, it's for a reason.

Maybe I'll get pregnant this year, maybe I won't.  Either way, I'm choosing to trust and believe and have faith and be JOYFULin2015.      

JOYFULin2015

Who else is shocked that it's already 2015?  I am.  Or I still am I should say.  Three days in and part of me just doesn't believe it.  The other part of me though?

Happy.  Relieved.  Ready.

2014 was tough.  If I listed the hardest years of my life, 2014 would definitely be up there.  So now that we've entered into a new year, I'm happy to put the past behind me and start anew.  At the start of the new year a lot of people make resolutions.  Courtesy of usa.gov, I found a list of the most popular resolutions people make.  Lose weight, volunteer to help others, and quite smoking were at the top of the list.  Get fit, eat healthy, and drink less were also on there.  Seems like a lot of people are interested in being healthier this year.  Does it last though?  Does anyone ever keep those resolutions for 52 weeks, 365 days over the coming year?  I never have, and I'm quite sure I'm not alone.  But I knew I wanted some things to be different this year.

Through some different avenues, I came across this website: http://oneword365.com.

Here's the idea of it.
 

So, I got to thinking.  I didn't want to just choose any word.  I wanted to choose a word that would really encompass what I wanted this year to be.

Do I want to be healthy?
Do I want to be loving?
Do I want to be patient?

The answer to all of those is, yes.  Duh.  Of course I want to be healthy and loving and patient.  There's a lot of things I want to be.  But I went in a different direction.  That direction stemmed from what I felt most in 2014.  Sad.

I want 2015 to be nothing like the previous year.  Sure, I learned a lot.  Sure, it made me grow as a person, as a wife, as a friend, as a Christian.  But last year also made me frustrated, hopeless, and at times even bitter.

So as I turn the page to a new day, a new year, here is what I will strive to be each and every day.

This is the word that I hope shapes my year.  This is what I hope to feel and be.  This is what I want.  More than anything.  Last year brought a long of sad days and tears.  I allowed myself to focus on what wasn't instead of what already was.  I allowed myself to be miserable instead of being thankful. I allowed a lot of discontent instead of choosing happiness even in the sad moments.

This year will be different.

Psalm 30 11-12

11 You have turned my mourning into joyful dancing.

    You have taken away my clothes of mourning and clothed me with joy,

12 

12 that I might sing praises to you and not be silent.

    O Lord my God, I will give you thanks forever! 

I will take the mourning of 2014 and turn it into joyful dancing in 2015.  

I will recognize that my clothes of mourning of 2014 have been taken away and have been replaced with clothes of joy in 2015. 

I will sing praises to my Heavenly Father and not be silent in 2015.   

I will give thanks in 2015.   

I will be joyful.  

11