healthier, happier, sweatier.

So, today I kept to my points (for Weightwatchers) and went for a very strenuous brisk walk on the treadmill.  Tomorrow I might try to go into work early so that I can go for a walk on the treadmill and maybe do some free weights.  We have two treadmills and a full locker room (with showers) at work, so this might actually work.

And I have to say, I was pretty happy today.

I got a LOT of work done today, just really booked through it.  I have a pretty fun meeting tomorrow after work, so I am looking forward to that.

God is so good.

i've had enough.

I am done.

I am tired of not being in control of my hormones and my body and my life.  And it’s not about control, either.  Control is the wrong word.
I am not disciplined.  In this whole battle, I’ve caved on discipline.

I am not in the Word as regularly as I should.

I am not watching what I eat as carefully as I need to.

I am not working out daily.

I am not prioritizing my own time and when I do, I veg.

No. More.

I can’t control pretty much anything.  But I can be more disciplined.

PS. I  start progesterone treatment tomorrow, so if you are in the area, now is a good time for vacation!

God is good

This morning, things were a bit shakey.  An armed robber was on the loose and hijacked a car a block away from my office.  Awesome.  We were on soft lockdown for most of the morning.

But in the end, the day turned out great.  My work got done.  The sun was shining.  I got into my car in time to hear the “Five O’Clock Whistle” on the radio station I listen to.

I hadn’t heard that sound in YEARS.  YEARS!

Oh, and the pesky armed robber crashed his car into a tree this afternoon and is going back to jail.

Today, the fields in the forest preserve are turning a lovely warm shade of gold.  There was not a single cloud in the sky as I drove home from work.

I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work to pick up some delicious produce for a salad.  I drove back to our cozy home, where the sun was streaming through the leaves on the trees in the park behind our house and kids were playing soccer and all the world was as it should be.

And tomorrow is my 6 year wedding anniversary to an amazing man.  Does it get any better?  I think not.

Even though we’re going through a lot with the fertility biz, our cups run over with all of the blessings God has given us.

So hey, it’s a Chicago September Friday.  It’s beautiful and delicious and vibrant all at the same time.

God is good.

i recently saw this quote…

from a guy named Dr. Lin Yutang:

“Of all the rights of women, the greatest is to be a mother.”

Dr. Yutang lived from 1895 to 1976.

He was married and had three daughters.

They were all authors.

And his statement made me a bit frustrated: Is being a mother a right?

If it is a right, why isn’t everyone a mother that wants to be?

Because it is NOT a right.

However: I can agree that being a mother is a blessing.  I believe that is a true statement.

And I can even agree with the concept that every woman has some degree of mothering in her – though it may manifest itself in different ways.

Like, for example, I mother projects and relationships – as in nurture, coach, encourage, grow.

But to say that of a woman’s rights, that the greatest is to be a mother…

Well, that statement doesn’t hold water when speaking of women in general.

So why do I care?  It’s just a quote from a guy.

I care because statements like that perpetuate, to me, a wrong belief that the greatest thing that a woman can do is to have children.  And that by virtue of being a woman, that we are entitled to having children.

The greatest thing that anyone can do is live the life and purpose that God gave you.

I am not (by virtue of being alive and being female) entitled to more than the basic rights afforded to me by my country.  The Bill of Rights does not mention the right of parenthood.

And to be clear, there is a significant and substantial difference between being allowed the right to pursue happiness versus the right to be happy. Everyone in the US has the right PURSUE happiness, but whether or not you ARE is entirely up to you.

Having children is not a right. Having children is a blessing.

And mothering isn’t just for those women who have children, it’s for women who care deeply and passionately about anything or anyone.  I’ve had many mothers in my career – I’ve even been adopted by a few in my new job.  These women check in on me, ask me how things are going, give me coaching advice, help me develop strategies – and not for their own benefit, but just because they are gifted at mothering.

“Of all of the attributes of women, one of the greatest is the ability to mother.”

dragging my face on the cool tile floor

sounds like a really good idea right now.

There are times in my life when I think about doing the darnedest things.  For a long time I wondered about opening the car door while driving.

Why?

I don’t know.  It just seemed like a good idea.

Not to worry, I wouldn’t ever do it, but man, it was a provocative thought.

I’ve also wondered about biting into a bar of Irish Spring soap.  Just really sinking my teeth into it and chewing on it.

Irish Spring does not smell yummy like cookies or brownies, but mmmm… ::CHOMP!::

Considering my track record, I guess it’s not surprising that I have these thoughts.

And unfortunately, at work, we have a LOT of ceramic tile.  Some of it is even on the walls.  And it looks deliciously cool. 

My face pines for you, oh lovely, cool, ceramic floors.

mmmmm.

And that’s why I think I might be a touch under the weather.

highs & lows, week ending 9/6/09

highs:

1. great test results and moving forward with iui.  sa-weet.

2. fk – he’s been fabu.

3. cable. tv. (with DVR…. ohmygoodnessgracious – does tv get any better?  i think not!)

4. septemberfest

lows:

1. being sick.  and just when i thought i was over it… iiiiiiiiit’s baaaack

I think that sums it up…

question of the day.

I am posting this question and my response as a blog entry for two reasons 1) I’ve asked this question myself and 2) I am sure that anyone reading my blog has probably asked a very similar question.  I just happen to have one dear friend who was brave enough to just come out and ask it and I love that she did.

The Question: “I’d be interested to know how God can see that having children is best for a teenager, still a child, but not for the many good valued, hard working men and woman on this planet who suffer with infertility? I admit, I will be your worst critic, but I am curious how that can be explained?”

This is really several questions rolled into one and I don’t really have an answer.  I can address the question with my own experiences and what God has shown me through those experiences.  And I can address the question with the knowledge I have about God through the Bible.  But really, the only person who can provide a definitive answer on this question is God.  That being said…

The first question seems to be why does God seemingly reward bad behavior, ie. teenage pregnancy?

This is an especially difficult part of the question for me.  And the first thing I have to do is check my own heart.

When I was little and I got in trouble for something, I would often resort to, “Yeah, but she…”  Wrong. Answer.

It wasn’t about what my sister or brother or neighbor did – it was about me.  What I did. What I needed to learn.  It’s not my job to be God, it’s God’s job to be God.

Even still, in arguments with my husband I find myself saying, “Well, fine, but last week, you did xyz.” And surprisingly (sarcasm), the arguments only escalate needlessly. 

Still, dealing with a major issue, especially with our fertility issues, it has caused me to pause and wonder:  How does a loving and gracious God allow a teenager to get pregnant easily while other, more mature and stable couples struggle?

I know that we live in a fallen world where people make bad decisions.  Nowhere in the Bible did God say that we would live a life free of consequences on earth.  As a Christian who loves Jesus, I know that my sins are forgiven in heaven, but often I have to deal with the consequences on earth.  If I screw up, I have to own it and work through it.

People with children know that sometimes the best thing for your kids is to let them experience the consequences of their actions.  Life provides the most memorable and deeply rooted lessons.

Based on my own experiences and what I’ve learned about God, this is what I think with regards to the pregnant teenager: anyone who has sexual intercourse runs the risk of getting pregnant.  That is life.  Sex is a very adult experience that has serious adult consequences.  And outside of marriage, it can lead to unwanted/unplanned pregnancies and the spread of some pretty nasty diseases.  I don’t believe teenagers are being rewarded with babies for their indiscretions, they are simply living with the consequences of it.  How teenagers choose to handle their unplanned pregnancy will change their life and it will form a big piece of who they are.  That is a mighty big consequence for a 15 year old and not something that I would have wanted to deal with at that tender age.  But that’s what happens when participating in adult activities before you are ready to deal with the very adult consequences.

Second issue: so why do bad things happen to reasonably good people?

Alright, fine, maybe I can live with the answer to the first question.  Maybe I can focus on working on me.  Maybe I can live with the fact that sometimes people make bad decisions.

But what about people who try really, really hard to be good and don’t get what they want anyway?

For me, addressing this part of the question, continues to take a lot of soul searching.

Frank and I have a fantastic life together. We are mostly responsible (the occasional 18 month old tub of margarine not included).  We think we could be pretty capable parents (but totally reserve the right to play pranks on any future children).  We don’t smoke, we drink occasionally, and we’ve never even tried drugs.  I mean, it looks pretty good and stable on paper – so why are we having such a hard time having kids?  How is it that we haven’t earned biological children?

This, for me, comes down to my relationship with God and who He is and who I am.

I wish God was Santa Clause because then I could sit on His lap (does God have a lap?) and ask Him for a better metabolism.  And smaller feet.

But he is not Santa Claus – and thank goodness (more cookies for me!)!  I know that God is good, all of the time.  Even when I am not good, He is steadfastly good.  I know this from reading the Bible and I know this from my own life experiences. 

It’s just hard to believe sometimes, especially when I am not getting what I want or my heart is breaking, it is hard to believe that.  But then I see the evidence in my life of His goodness.  I went through a lot of heartache with several guys before I met Frank.  I know that if I stayed with any of those guys, I would not be as happy as I am today!  But man, at the time, those break ups HURT.  Ick. 

I experienced a lot of the same with jobs, promotions, houses, family, etc, etc, etc.  Things that initially seemed to be horrible, later turned out just fine.

I know, for myself, that no one deserves children.  Children are a blessing.  I cannot earn them, no one can.  You can’t earn blessings.  If you could, they’d be called paychecks.

And I am sure any parent reading this blog can testify that children are NOT paychecks – they are paycheck spenders!

If children were earned on a merit system, the world would look a lot different.  A lot more people would have biological children that want them – and the fostercare system would probably be empty.

We know SO many couples struggling with infertility and many of those couples have been (and are!) a tremendous blessing to Frank and me.  So many of these couples have shared their stories,wisdom, heartache, hopes and their sorrows with us and helped us figure out our own path.  Without them, I would feel so alone in this and I don’t. So even in a time that could be full of only sadness, we have community, love and hope.

I guess the last thing I want to say about this (and this is really such a Reader’s Digest version of my feelings on the topic) is that I didn’t get to this point of view over night.  God has been teaching me and helping me understand and providing before I even know what I need.  And God listens to prayer.  He may not do what I want Him to do, but the evidence in my life says that He always gives me His best.

I’m pretty ok with that.

real life conversations between frank and me

On our nightly ritual:

  • Frank: What time do you want to get up tomorrow?
  • Me: 6
  • Frank (leaning over to set the alarm, realizes the insanity of my request, narrows his eyes at me): C’mon Em, really? Really?
  • Me: 6:15
  • Frank: 7
  • Me: Frank, really, I’ll get up.  6:30.
  • Frank: 7
  • Me: 6:35.  And that’s my final answer.

On driving:

Scene: Frank is driving.  He is about to make a left turn, but hasn’t put his signal on yet or moved over.  In reality, he is going to make the turn just fine.  This is where I come in.

  • Me: (frantic) Left turn…. (and then remembering my manners) Please.
  • Frank: I know where I am going.   Remember how you were going to ask me “Do you know where you are going?” before you tell me where to go?
  • Me: Yes.
  • Me ( a few seconds later): Do you know where you are going?
  • Frank: YES!  We are going HOME.  This is our STREET.
  • Me: Oh, ok.  Cuz you didn’t get over, so I just thought you needed a reminder.  That’s our house on the left.

On sad one-liners:

Scene: driving past a “no outlet” sign.

  • Frank: Hey, you can’t plug in your hair dryer down there.
  • Me: Why?
  • Frank: Cuz they don’t have an outlet.  Get it? “No Outlet.”  You can’t–
  • Me: And we’re done.

Scene: driving past a “Slow Children Playing” sign

  • Frank: There are slow children playing here –
  • Me: Ok, enough.  Turn left! Please!

Scene: someone breaks suddenly in front of us.

  • Me: Frank! Stop!
  • Frank: Easy.  I got it.  Eyes down.  Why don’t you take a little nap?

On being panicked, looking for Frank’s log book

  • Frank: Emily, where is my log book?
  • Me: I don’t know.

– hours later, Frank finds the log book.

  • Frank: Emily, why was my log book with the Christmas decorations.
  • Silence
  • Silence
  • Me: Hmm.  I’m really not sure.  Did you put it there?
  • Frank: Emily. Who put away the Christmas decorations?
  • Me: I did.
  • Frank: So why did you put my log book in with the Christmas decorations?
  • Silence
  • Me: What was the question again?

On being sick.

Scene: The morning after Christmas.  I roll over to see Frank still sleeping, but I get the distinct sense that something is amiss.  What could it be?  I wander into the bathroom and see what I can only describe as a small disaster.  A bucket of – water? – next to the toilet.  And the shower curtain – is it? could it be? – might be stained.  I walk back into the bedroom and nudge Frank.

  • Me: Hey honey, what’s going on in the bathroom?
  • Frank: Yeah, I was going to tell you about that.  See, I got sick last night.
  • Me: (eyes narrowing) Ok.  What happened?
  • Frank: So I puked.  A lot.  And at about the sixth explosive vomiting wave, I lost control of my neck muscles.
  • Me: Ah.  So we need a new shower curtain?
  • Frank: Yeah, something like that.

Note on scene: this was the direct result of 3 lbs of prime rib and 1 lb of his mother’s peacans.  He can’t blame it on alcohol because, well, there just wasn’t any stomach space left for drinking at that point.

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give me Your heart

I think I am at the numb stage of this mess.  I am not crying about it whenever I think of it, but it almost doesn’t feel real.  A year ago, having children was a very real possibility, just on the horizon.  We were working to position ourselves financially, geographically, emotionally and mentally for the prospect of having children.

The possibilities were endless.

When we started trying, I started thinking about the possible due dates.  I would calculate the new due date, just in case that month worked.  A baby in September of 2009 was the first due date I calculated.

That is next month.

And I don’t say that as a “Next month is going to be a mess emotionally, so stay away” kind of warning (although, I might be a mess next month – I make no promises).  I say it as a way of marking time.

Then, now, and the space in between.

I was hopeful that when we went to Vegas, that when we came home, we’d be expecting a baby.  May 14th would have been the due date.  When I started to get hopeful, I thought about how wonderful it would be for a new baby and Frank to share the same birthday month.  Especially if we had a little boy.

When we started this journey, this hope for a baby was wide and vast and full.

And as the days and weeks and months ticked by, possibility was replaced by reality.

What is.

It is SO tempting for me to think about what could have been.

But what is the use of that?

There is only what was, what is and what will be.

And there is still hope, hope placed in a future and born out of the past and present.  Not hope placed in the woulda, coulda, shouldas.  Real hope.  Paul in the Bible says, perseverance in difficult times builds character and character gives us hope.

We talked tonight about the evidence of God in our lives.  I look at my life and I see God’s hand  moving in my life – sometimes vibrantly, sometimes quietly.

Being a mom isn’t about being able to bear biological children.  It’s about the act of mothering, nurturing, growing, building and loving.

And being a follower of Jesus is about loving as He loved.

When I left Bible Study tonight, there was a song playing on The Mix and the lyrics of the song were:

Give me your eyes!
Lord give me your eyes!
Everything I keep missing.
Give me your arms!
For the broken hearted!
Give me your arms
Lord, give me your eyes.
(Brendan Heath, Give Me Your Eyes)

That song met me right where I was at, right at that moment.  It’s about me (you, everyone) being after God’s heart.  Loving as He loves.  Being heartbroken for the things that break His heart. Celebrating the things He celebrates.  Greiving what He greives.

I have a long way to go.

something from the lighter side of the menu

My brother Andy called me at work, very upset.

Andy is the Dali Lama of rock ‘n roll.  This kid usually doesn’t get bugged by much.  He loves cheese.  He loves cheese like the sea loves water and the sky loves blue.  He is one with the cheese, all mellow and melty.  Sure, sometimes he gets a bit crunchy when fired up, but generally, this kid is a happy camper.

So when Andy gets upset about something (aside from there being no cheese to eat), I tend to listen.

“You are not going to believe this,” he said.  Drama.

“What? What happened?” I asked.

“That stupid dog.”

“Did you back over him on the drive way?”

“No. I dropped mom and dad off [he told me where, but I can’t remember], and they brought the dog and he PUKED on my passenger seat. PUKED.”

sarah and charlieCharlie, the dog, is a little King Charles Spaniel (or whatever he is) and he belongs to our sister Sarah.  He has this face that makes me want to snuggle with him all day long, but then he does the most atrocious things, like, for example, puke in my brother’s car.  And poop outside our bedroom door.  And eat the crotches out of dirty panties left on the floor, in open suitcases or in laundry baskets he can get into.

So while he is cute, his stock is on the low side with the family.

And puking in Andy’s brand new car, well, let’s just say his stock was downgraded to whatever is just above junk status.

“Well, the good news is that you can just wipe it out,” I told Andy.  Smart guy got the leather seats.

“Oh – it won’t stain it?”

“Not if you wipe it out.  But if you want to make sure that it doesn’t happen again, back over the dog with the car*.”

“I might.” Big sigh. Drama averted.  If the puke stained, I think he might have considered having an “accident” with the dog.

“Don’t worry Andy, I won’t tell anyone.”

*There were no animals injured or legitimately threatened in the making of this blog post.  I cannot confirm or deny that the above conversation actually took place.  I’m just saying that it might have happened.  I am sure that Charlie will live to eat the crotches out of a lot more underwar.  Godspeed, Charlie.