Mayo Day!

We feel like we need to record this day. We didn't have our camera so we'll use words...the day outside was bright, sunny and freezing cold (at least Zero degrees if not colder). Perfect for driving, sort of. The roads could have been icy, but thankfully they were not. We left around 10:30. We only had to go 86 miles, but we were nervous and wanted to be early. The day was surprisingly silent. In the morning, we sat on the couch sipping coffee not talking, just listening to the Today Show. In the car we were silent. Both lost in our own thoughts and nerves. If we really dwelled on it we would realized just how weighted down we were by anxiety. So much thought went into this day. And then it was here and we felt surreal. Everything about our lives is surreal! We should be used to it by now...but we never are. We finally put some Christmas music on in the car to have noise. We arrived in Rochester around 12:15pm. We followed directions to Mayo, drove by the hospital we needed to go to and basically for a few minutes were just in AWE over the place. We found the parking garage, parked, and started walking. It was sooooo cold outside. We needed food. We needed something to do to pass the time. We weren't supposed to be at the admissions desk until 2pm. We stopped for a sandwich at our favorite sandwich shop...Jimmy John's. We went next door to Caribou Coffee. We sat. We stared. We thought. We did not talk much. At 1:30 we walked across the street to the hospital. We sat some more. Joel read Sports Illustrated. I sat thinking, thinking, thinking. So many nerves. There was a calming waterfall to the left. At 1:50 we went upstairs to check in thinking we would then have to walk miles to get to the little corner of infertility. But nope! It was right upstairs at desk 3-A in the Charelton Hospital. We were early! We filled out paperwork, called mom to ask her questions they needed to know about my history, and then we sat. This time we whispered a little, but no reading. We examined a painting. The Mayo Clinic is very nice inside, it was a pleasant waiting room, it had an atmosphere that was nice and inviting and peaceful. Finally, 45 mintues later (because we were soooo early) they called us. First we saw the nurse. Then the amazing Doctor...she was so awesome. She thanked us for picking her to help us. She asked me to tell her my story in my own words. She was kind. She was welcoming. She listened, explained and gave us hope. She went through our previous records with us. Then she wrote down a list of treatment options, the order to do them in, and the percentage they increase our chances of a baby. She didn't want us to decide then, she wanted us to go home, think about it and call her. I wanted to decide right then. We didn't of course. She answered our questions and was told us what to expect next. It was overwhelming but good. Then we went downstairs to the lab because she wanted to know my thyroid levels so I had blood drawn...she is on a cutting edge research team regarding thyroid levels and infertility. Hopefully she can help stabilize this which in turn will help us. She was amazing and we felt really good as we left the office.
We didn't leave Mayo yet though...we had a coupon for a free gift at the education center! We had to go and get it, even though it was 2 buildings away! This time we walked inside! The whole place was just so nice. And the guy who gave us our free gift was excited we'd stopped to get it. Mayo could write the book on customer service. We've never seen better.
Now the decision making...which treatment to do first..we're thinking...praying...thinking...praying...

Intricate pieces

I am notorious for writing blog posts first in my head, when they come to me, usually in the middle of the night when I don't want to get up to write it down, or sometimes when I am not near a computer! I wrote one last night and then this morning, after much hard thinking (and black friday shopping), I remembered the gist of it...so this space will be used to try and re-create what has once been written. Here goes...

Intricate pieces
Our infertility journey is made up of so many intricate pieces. There are tears, hopes, pains, sorrows, sobs, hugs, holds, blogs, dreams, dreads, doctors, and so much more. God has so delicately written this part of our journey...and in September when I started work at LSS He began a chapter that has a little touch of blessing. Through our Mayo clinic appointment scheduling and record gathering for that appointment and scheduling time off work, I have had the opportunity to tell my boss why I need to take the day off December 7. With one word, infertility, we found a connection. She doesn't have children either. And though she suffered the long painful battle of infertility almost 10 years ago and has come to terms with being the best aunt on the planet, but not a mom, she knows what I am going through. She knows Joel and I's pain. She has a hope that our journey will turn out differently than her and her husbands did. She has a strength like I never imagined possible. She has over 30 nieces and nephews and she is the best aunt they could ever ask for. I admire her for that. I feel like God ordained this from the very first page of this journey. He knew that as we walked this part of the road we would need another person who understands, one who will openly talk about it, and one who knows. He is indeed faithful.

Hymn #763

My Life Flows On in Endless Song

We've been singing this hymn a lot lately between daily seminary chapel and church...it speaks to our hearts each time we sing it so we wanted to post it here:

My life flows on in endless song; above earth’s lamentation
I catch the sweet though far off hymn that hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife I hear the music ringing.
It finds an echo in my soul. How can I keep from singing?

What though my joys and comforts die? The Lord my Savior liveth.
What though the darkness gather round? Songs in the night He giveth.

The peace of Christ makes fresh my heart, a fountain ever springing!
All things are mine since I am His! How can I keep from singing?

Refrain: No storm can shake my inmost calm while to that Rock I'm clinging.
Since Christ is Lord of Heaven and earth, how can I keep from singing?

Facebook and Infertility

Joel found an article in the Minneapolis Star Tribune about infertility and Facebook. There is no direct connection of course, unless you consider the pain that Facebook can add to infertility. Let me explain...the article was all about how infertile couples are inundated with birth announcements, we're having a baby announcements, sonogram pictures, new baby pictures, and on and on...all from expectant or excited new moms and dads. It's something you can't escape if you use Facebook. One counselor in the article even went so far as to tell her infertile couple to avoid it for one week to see the difference it made. The ironic thing is that these couples who long to have their own news to share imagine doing it on Facebook. They want what they so painfully see others have. Joel has often told me to get off or stop looking at Facebook. He doesn't go on it very often. And we can't count on two hands the number of people we know who are pregnant or new moms and dads...on Facebook...we hear news weekly, if not daily, of new babies on the way. It's a joyful thing. It a beautiful thing. It's amazing...today's technology. We don't write these words to offend, we rejoice new beings and yet we mourn the loss of not being able to have similar news to share. We weep tears of pain and sorrow. We wrap ourselves tightly in each others arms, in hopes that it will take away the pain of not having our very own adopted or biological babies in our arms. We are tired of waiting, we hurt and we are sad.

With that said...while we're on the subject of Facebook and infertility...why is it that the ads on the right side of the page are ALWAYS about free newborn samples, or try these softest booties for your newborn, or the fuzziest blanket,or innovative diaper bag, or get pregnant without modern medicine assisting, your just a "new natural method" away, blah, blah, blah. If they are trying to reach this consumer they are failing miserably. Does this happen to everyone? Is the entire Facebook world there to give free samples for babies? Maybe if they tried advertising holiday coffee drinks from caribou, dunn brothers or starbucks for FREE we would be quick to click, or run this race or read this new fiction by our favorite authors book, or on and on and on...all for free...if only.

And now we must go check facebook...

My Gracious God meets me...

in my brokenness. Or rather, our gracious God meets us in our brokeness. That is a line from the sermon this morning...he meets us in our brokenness and in many other parts of our life. The big one for us today is our brokenness. I imagine him walking down a dirt path heading West, and us walking hand in hand down the same dirt path heading East. We are headed in opposite directions, toward each other. He meets us on our path of brokenness. He was there all along, traveling the path with us. He knows infertility, he knows sadness, heartbrokeness, tears, pain, and we could go on and on. He knows when we want to go into hiding and he knows when we run to try and distract us from the pain. He knows and he meets us there.

We wonder....

We wonder as we wander...through our days, through our moments, through our lives...we wonder as we wander...out under the stars, through our neighborhood, through our friendships, relationships....we wonder as we wander...will it ever be our turn? So many people...but never us. We wonder as we wander...will the pain ever end? Will it ever have reason to go away? We wonder as we wander...does the hope other people have really mean what we hope it means? We wonder as we wander...how to keep living this pain day in and day out. We wonder as we wander...does God really have a plan to take this pain away, or is the pain his plan? We wonder as we wander...how can this ever be something talked about openly, how can we ever express the pain of no babies...how can we keep from crying, falling, getting back up again. We are wondering and we are wandering and it is lonely and sad and it hurts.

By the time....

By the time our second year of seminary came along we hoped we'd be pregnant. By the time Christmas came that year we hoped we'd be pregnant. One year had gone by and we were scared. But not as scared as we are now. We were sad, but the sadness then didn't run as deep as it does today. By the time internship rolled around we hoped we'd be pregnant. By the time we were two months, or even a month, into internship we hoped we'd be pregnant. By the time internship was over...but it was over 4 weeks ago and we still are not pregnant. By the time graduation comes we wonder, not so much as hope, we just wonder. Summer visits home, Christmases, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes....all come and go so fast leaving us with empty arms and people around us without words. This is a journey and it's a sad and fearful one. We cling to one another and we cling to God. Because in the safety net of both we can pour out our deepest darkest fears and know that the other person gets it, feels it, dreads it and yet still holds us tightly. The sadness is overwhelming, it's depth beyond anything we could have ever imagined. Tears are falling and our hearts break a little more each day. We can only pray that the brokenness will one day be whole again.
We wanted to share some words here from Former First Lady Laura Bush on their struggle with infertility:
George and I had hoped that I would be pregnant by the end of his congressional run. Then we hoped it would be by the time his father announced his presidential run, then by the presidential primaries, the convention, the general election. But each milestone came and went. The calendar advanced, and there was no baby. The English language lacks the words "to mourn an absence." For the loss of a parent, grandparent, spouse, child or friend we have all manner of words and phrases, some helpful, some not. Still, we are conditioned to say something, even if it is only "I am sorry for your loss." But for an absence, for someone who was never there at all, we are wordless to capture that particular emptiness. For those who deeply want children and are denied them, those missing babies hover like silent, ephemeral shadows over their lives. Who can describe the feel of a tiny hand that is never held?

pain...

We are going to the ocean soon. This time the Oregon one. When we think about going to the ocean we imagine standing at it's shore and screaming and yelling at God. We can't help but feel God's presence at the ocean. But we're mad at him. He could fix this pain. He could take it away. We know he feels our pain and that he cries with us, but he could fix it. We are mad. We are sad. We are consumed. This journey is so so hard. We don't want to hear that it is all in his timing, even if it is, we don't like hearing that. You see, we want to believe this is all in his timing, but right now we're too scared that he will never fix it. We're too scared that this road will never end. So for now we thank you all for having the hope that we don't. For your prayers, for your listening ear, for your being there or not when we need it or don't need it. We imagine probably too much what it will be like to be parents. We dream, then we cry. Because the pain surrounds us, runs through us and around us. The pain hurts.

One day at a time....

One day at a time…we are surrounded by sadness, surreal-ness, anticipation, packed and unpacked boxes and full imaginations. Our life as a married couple has been one giant journey of surreal-ness. You see, we are often, if not always, in transition. We don’t always like it and it is often a lot of work but we do live it and embrace it in every way we know how. We pack our box o’ hope and sweet chocolate blue bunny and we dream a little more, our longing grows greater. Today as we bask in the surreal-ness and all that comes with it we are pondering parenthood. We wonder, if and when we have the opportunity to be mommy and daddy will we feel a sense of surreal-ness? We imagine that yes we will. And then we remember that we are good at experiencing surreal-ness, we have a lot of practice at it, we are ready for a little or a lot more. We long for it if it means we can have little God-given children to wrap our arms around the same way we imagine our sweet Jesus wrapping his arms around us…one day at a time. We will make it through this journey….one day at a time. In the midst of our longing please Jesus we ask you to listen to us, hold us, cry with us and give us the deep longing-filled desires of our hearts.

A Technicolor Dreamcoat....

Friday night we watched the play "Joseph and the Technicolor Dreamcoat" in a small almost non-existent Montana town! It was inspiring and beautifully done and left us wanting a technicolor dreamcoat of our own....in other words, we want to keep dreaming, we want to hold on, we want the hope of dreams come true. We want to be parents, we want a first call that fits just right, we want to run a race together, and on and on. But mostly, at this point in our lives, our dream is to have babies...biological and adopted babies created by us and for us, babies first in our hearts....this is our dream. Today, we hold on to that dream, and we dream a little more of what it will be like, we imagine, we hope. The day after the theater production we went to a play park in a campground in Fort Peck, Montana and slid down the slides, swung on the swings, climbed ladders, and talked to people we ran into that we knew (small part of the country we live in)...in the midst of all of that we allowed ourselves to dream a dream that seems unreachable, but a dream that for today we hope for.

Play

In less than a month we get to play with little kids that are family…Rylee, Kaylie, Blazer, Dash, Connor, Ethan, Caleb, Sam, Lucy…and maybe more (Grace? Lydia?)! We just love being surrounded by nieces, nephews, cousins kids and dear friends kids! It is another source of therapy for us. Playing is one of our favorite pastimes. After all, I do have a Master's degree in play, we did meet at a camp where we played day after day. Just last week we went to the new playground in Williston, someone put up big bucks to make this Williston-themed park...and though we were kidless when we went, we still played. In less than a month we'll play in the water, dirt, sand, at the beach, in the mountains, in the ocean , at camp and maybe even in a river. Play is one of the things we do best. Throw in some kids and it's even better. It's a joy we much anticipate. We can even begin to imagine playing with the unborn nieces and nephews....and today, in this moment, we imagine that someday, maybe, just maybe, please God, let us have our own kids to add to the mix. It's sadness mixed with laughter completed with a dash of hope. It's hard, yet fulfilling, it's painful yet joy filled, it's heart-wrenching and tear filled yet grace filled…free-flowing, over the top, grace…pouring into us.

Just this one thing....

A couple of nights ago, in the middle of the night, I wrote two blog posts in my head, then had mostly forgotten them by morning! Joel's advice the next morning was to just get up and write them while they were in my head. Maybe next time. I do remember that they were about sadness and our role as the giant elephant in the room. We sometimes hear people tell us that friends are trying to get pregnant, and we even hear people tell us they are pregnant. And then there is us. We try, but we don't get. It's like one giant marathon that won't end. And with it comes the pain that I imagine comes with running 26 miles in a row. Physical hurt in our hearts, emotional hurt, mental hurt. It's a lot of hurt. Hurt that goes deeper than we ever hoped it would. Sometimes we think back to two years ago when this pain hurt so much. But back then we had the hope that it wouldn't last this long. Now it hurts more. Now the hope it less. Now the journey is longer. It's not a journey we want. It's not a journey we share much of, unless it is here on this page. Which makes us even more of a giant elephant in the room. Everybody wants to be careful what they say around us, everybody wants to talk about their joy and happiness. Our pain is silent. You will rarely see or hear us talking or crying about it in public. That comes in the secret. It's not fair we say, then we regret having those horrible thoughts. But if it is between us and God isn't it ok to think that? Say that? Shout that? Isn't God there to bear our pain, to hear it, take it and hold us through it? For now, the pain hurts so much and stays with us into the depths. For now, we don't know what to do with the pain but lay it down here and lay it at the feet of Jesus. Please Jesus, take our pain, our suffering, and please bring us the joy we long for but can't find, the joy we want but can no longer see the path to. "Oh Lord I beg of you....just this one thing..."

One sunny day

Today is usually my day off, but we're getting near the end of our internship, so I'm doing visits. I feel pretty bad that I have to be gone for most of the day, when Melissa and I usually spend time exercising, drinking coffee, walking downtown and enjoying the weather. This loss of infertility remains a difficult part of our journey. I dream of "one sunny day" when we see our daughter/son held in our arms, looking at us, lovingly, crying, or whatever the emotion might be. This type of loss is not easy to explain and at times I've been farther away emotionally from the situation than Melissa. I keep my head down and do my intern thing and go one day, one week at a time, but the pain and sorrow is still there. When I stop and think and wait in that sadness, it leads to the reality of our situation, for today. I hold out hope that our heart's desire for children will be realized sooner rather than later, but understand that it's okay to cry, okay to be angry, okay to ask why, knowing that we might not get a straight answer, but that God will walk with us through this journey. It's a journey that I share with my wife and friend, Melissa, as we think and pray of that day.

Why, why, why?

Days like today, when the pain hurts so bad, it is hard to not put the box o' hope away and pretend it doesn't exist, or to imagine a "back when" ever happening for us. Over and over again the tears come until they are dry, then they fill back up and fall again and again. It's a cycle we don't want to bear. And as we do, as we cry, we wonder if Jesus is just as heart broken about this as we are, if he is crying with us. And then we wonder why? Why can't he do something about this, why can't we be mommy and daddy? Why the pain, the sorrow, the hurt? Why, why, why? When will this be over? Days like today it is hard to see the happy ending. We weep and our hearts and minds are clouded with tears. We won't say never, but we have a hard time imagining it any other way. Today, we write because we can't talk about it, we have pain that can't be voiced. We know Jesus is there and as much as we don't understand, we hope and plead that he is carrying us, because without him, the creator of life, this journey would be unbearable. Which is ironic because today we ask him why he can't just fix it, why we can't see the point of all of this pain. But that's ok, because even in the midst of our confusion and heartbreak he is there.

Back when....

Will we ever have a "back when..."? Will we ever say "back when we were walking the journey of infertility...."? To be able to say this means our painful journey is in the past...to be able to say this means we know the joy of parenthood, it means we dance not only in our pain, but in our celebration! Maybe that's one of the reasons we have this blog. We desire, we yearn to be able to say "back when" yet we don't want to forget how this journey has and is shaping our lives. You see, the moment we can say "back when" is the moment that we stop knowing the pain. We want the pain gone, vanished, a distant past. But we will not forget. Why will we not forget? Because we want to be able to share this with people walking a similar journey. We want to walk along side of them and share that we lived and breathed the heart wrenching pain. Do we wish for this journey so it can be part of our ministry? Absolutely not, this kind of pain is too hard, too deep, too heart achingly hurtful for us to wish this or want this. Because it is, we will walk, we will cry, we will go into the depths when we have to, but we will always pray that God can use this. That someday we can cry with others, hold others and share with them the only hope we have which is Jesus. Maybe someday we will have a sweet chocolate blue bunny ministry as we give and as we share our "back when..."

box o' hope

We have a box in our closet and it is filled with hope. It sits on the top shelf and we hardly ever get it out and we look inside even less. Sometimes we lift the top up just to put some more hope inside. Our box o' hope is filled with things...blankets, outfits, booties, stuffed animals, rattles, books...all for our future children. You see, as Joel helped me understand, this is a symbol or rather an act of our hope. We aren't the only ones who have put things in it either. Our children have a grandma who has put things in it and has never given up hope for us to be mommy and daddy. Our box filled to the top and almost over brimming with hope is not an act of pain or desire as we once thought of it...but it is a reminder to us that maybe, just maybe, someday we will have someone who is part Joel and part me, adopted or biological, to play, snuggle, dance, laugh, roll and tumble in the contents of our hope.

We cling

We cling to Jesus right now. We don't always know what that looks like and we don't always have hope but the one thing we have not let go of on this journey of infertility is Jesus. Sure, we've been mad at him, confused, hurt, and angered. But despite all that pain and all of those emotions we cling to him. He's all we have because he is the one who can make us mommy and daddy, he is the creator of life, the life we so badly yearn for. He is the only one who can fill our empty aching arms. He can make a way for adoption when we see no way, he can create life when we can't wrap our minds around the dream anymore. We cling to each other and as we cling we remember that our love is an example of just a piece of the depth of love Jesus has for us. In the midst of today, this step in the journey, we cling just a little tighter so we can know that the hold won't end, that the cling will stay. Our clinging brings comfort of arms around us, comfort of love, comfort never ending, comfort we need.

not a grocery store....

It is hard to want something so bad that you can't just go out and get. We don't know when we will be parents. We can't decide that because if we could we would already have little ones to call us mommy and daddy. We can go to the store and buy milk, fruit, meat, cheese, blankets, towels, clothes, etc. whenever we need them or want them. Right now we want babies, we want to be parents, we need to be parents. The tears come thinking about it. We've reached the point where to talk about it means to cry about it. We've even reached the point where people who get to be parents don't want to talk about it at all with us, we may not hear from a friend for a long time and we wonder if it is because they are pregnant and we are not and they don't know how to tell us. Those kinds of thoughts are of course making it all about us which we should not do. That's where us embracing new life comes in...of course we embrace it. That doesn't mean it fills our void, but it is a joyous thing! In this moment we feel like we are treading water....which we're good at. We will keep on going, we're getting good at persevering. But it is so hard. It's not something we asked for. But it is something we do. Just like dancing to us or breathing, we do because it's necessary.

Sometimes we don't understand...

I've had blog posts rolling around in my head for a few days now, but wasn't able to get them down...so today I am blogging! This blog is therapy for us, it's a way for us to get our thoughts out, it's a way for us to process, and an opportunity to not miss a moment of this journey we are on.
The other day at work I was talking with a co-worker about another co-worker whose wife is pregnant with their third child...she was telling me that this pregnancy was unexpected and though they are excited about the baby they are not excited about being pregnant...she also said this couple was not planning to have another baby and how this is throwing a wrench is their lives. That was so hard for me to hear. I told her that I will never be in a place in my life where I understand that...I would welcome an unexpected baby...I would dance for joy, cry tears of joy, laugh, and dance some more. I know this couple is very much ok with their baby on the way...and I think that is wonderful...but hearing about their story was more than I could take. I cried. I want what they have. It's hard not to think mean thoughts of how unfair it is, we want so deeply to be mommy and daddy. We want so deeply that sometimes it scares us. The pain is anguish filled, tear filled, and hug filled as we hold each other, and as we trust that the arms of Jesus are holding us both.

Names....

Last week we did something we said we would never do until pregnant or holding an adoption referral...we made a name list for our future children. Maybe this also (like the bunny) was an act of faith, or maybe an act of fear. We can't help but think up names or like names we hear...Maybe it was excitement or maybe we were afraid we would forget these names someday when we need them...but no matter the reason we did it. We have our name list. We will add to it and delete from it. We may not ever use a name on it, but for now, if and when the time ever comes we have the names, we are a little more prepared. My favorite name on the list is one from Joel...the name comes from that of a news reporter...Joel loves to research news reporters...and he happened to find one that I really liked the name of...and so did he!

Our chocolate blue bunny...

A couple of days ago Joel bought a blue and chocolate colored stuffed bunny. The bunny came with the name "Sweet Chocolate Bunny." He bought it as an act of faith that one day we will have a little one to give it to. This touched my heart. It was a surprise for me. I think it is pure sweetness that my husband who so desires to be a daddy was thinking about his little one to be and bought that bunny. It doesn't matter if the first one is boy or girl or if there are more than one first ones, he/she or they will get that bunny from daddy. This bunny will sit on our bed for now and remind us that someday as God promises, he will give us the desires of our hearts. We desire little girls and boys to lead, learn from, teach, laugh with, pray with, dance with, tickle, tumble and play with! This is a cry of our hearts. Today we imagine...today a blue stuffed bunny enters our imaginations.

father's day heartache...

Today is harder than I thought it would be. To my dearest Joel...I am so sorry that today is not a day of celebration for us, I am so sorry that today we lack one thing we want so badly....arms full of little girls and boys who call you daddy. My heart yearns for this. As a wife, I want to see my husband be a daddy. I know in my heart, in my soul, that he was made for it. This journey is so hard. Today is one giant reminder of our sadness.
We are so thankful for our own dad's so we pause in the midst of the day to joyfully think about them....we will call both of them to say how much they mean to us. We will send cards to them. We will wish we could be with them, maybe then this day would be happier for us, maybe we would have some distraction.
Today, on this made up holiday, started so many years ago in Spokane WA, or so we heard on the TV, we will go to church, we will clean house, watch tv, eat food, cry, hug each other, and beg God to be with us. We need cradled today.

Better than a hallelujah....

Do you ever have pain so bad that it makes you numb? Today I hurt like that. Not a physical pain, but more like a physical weight covering the emotional pain, the hurt of my heart. It makes me want to run, run, run, until I can't anymore because then maybe I'll forget about the hurt of my heart. Maybe I will run so fast that I will beat the hurt, overcome it. On days like today it's hard to yearn or hope. I have to just be. I have to ask why. I want to cry. I want to weep. But the tears aren't coming. Maybe soon they will. Somewhere buried deep in the promises of God I can find the strength, the courage and the hope I need. Today, I am too numb to talk to Jesus. I am not mad, I just don't know what to say. That's why these lyrics speak so much to me:

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah.

The tears of shame for what's been done,
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

Thank God that he can hear a melody in the midst of our breaking hearts. My silence to our creator, my miseries, my brokenness, my honesty....intertwined....and better than a hallelujah.

Hope Tank

Hope is a funny thing. It comes and goes so radically that it is sometimes hard for us to keep track of. One moment we have it, the next we don't. We never have a lot, we sometimes have none but we are always hoping for more! That might not make sense to anyone but us. We know we have hope in Jesus. We know we have hope and promise of eternal life. Sometimes we hope to be parents, sometimes it hurts to much to hope for what we imagine to be pure amazingness. Back in October we felt Jesus tell us that our arms would be filled with babies...we pictured it so clearly. We felt his Holy Spirit in our midst. We can cling to that. We can cling to Jesus who has never left us even when we felt like he did. In the midst of our sadness and even anger we imagine he cries with us, he must know our pain to the very depth. It's so incredibly hard sometime because we don't understand why he won't give us children. We think we would be amazing parents, we love kids, we know it would be hard work but we'll take the sweat, the lack of sleep, the frustrations, the fears. It seems to us that the only thing better than dancing just the two of us in our living room would be just the two of us plus little feet in sync with ours, part Joel, part me, adopted, chosen, created, biological. You see we love to play. We love to play especially with kids. Some of our passions in life come in the form of our 2 nieces and 3 nephews (and the ones along the way). Today we're scared that it will never happen, maybe tomorrow we'll hope that it will. We plead with the one who is Lord of all creation. We want, we cry out, we try to find hope.

Ethiopia

I titled this blog Ethiopia because this weekend at a fair trade fair we purchased a bracelet handmade in Ethiopia by a lady whom we do not know the name of. The lady who took our money told us how much the lady who made it appreciates us. It struck me and I started to wonder about this woman who took time to create this small piece of beauty. Then I said a prayer for her that she would be blessed. Then I began to think about a lady in Ethiopia giving birth to one of our children and I prayed for her also. When we were told no by the adoption agency a few months ago we were devastated. The pain was horrible. We didn't understand why God was closing the door, when we felt so clearly that he was the one opening it to begin with. But now as I look at this bracelet I think to myself that maybe, just maybe, we do have a child there, or that God's plans are to create a child there for us to be mommy and daddy to. We don't know his plan but for the first time since being told no by the agency we started praying for our children that may not be biological, but will be chosen by us simply because they were and are created to be ours. Sometimes, no most of the time, it is hard to wrap our minds around God's plan for us to be parents, or even to trust that he will allow this to happen. For now we wait, but in the midst of our waiting we add prayer.

If I were a Tweeter...

By Joel and Melissa:
I'd tweet...Badlands coffee shop at an old episcopal church in Dickinson, ND is so amazingly delightful...would make a trip there just for that!

I'd tweet...the greenness that rain produces in northwestern north dakota is stunning and almost magical...one moment it's brown out, then comes a short rain storm and suddenly we're surrounded by green.

I'd tweet...three lines at the end of a sermon can touch a heart, even when the rest of it is passed by un-noticed (if you're a bystander like myself)

I'd tweet...we were robbed, literally, by someone unknown...they stole an REI order left at our rear-door...REI is replacing all that was lost at no extra charge

I'd tweet...REI's response to our robbing...that's grace

I'd tweet...sometimes pain comes and goes, right now it goes, wondering what moment it will come again in

I'd tweet...beautiful sunny day, off to weed our yard which is plentiful with weeds

I'd tweet...a little living room dancing is good for our souls

That's all the tweeting we have for now...surely there will be more to come!

Adandoned

We feel abandoned by God. We are probably not "allowed" to say something like that as a pastor and pastor's wife in training but at this point our hearts hurt so bad that we selfishly don't care. We see our prayers answered a lot, prayers for other people to have babies, prayers for the little things...but do we see our prayers for a baby for ourselves answered? No, it is like He is listening to everyone's desires and hopes and dreams but not ours. It's so so hard. It's so so painful. It's so so lonely. It's so so confusing. It's so so sad for us. It's so so tearful. Some days like today on the drive to work I was glad to be alone because the tears just came and they wouldn't stop. the pain is so bad. When someone announces a pregnancy or adoption referral there is nothing but joy and everyone joins in. When a couple endures infertility it's like a giant in the room that can't be talked about. It's silent. Maybe that's why we blog, because it's here we can write what we're feeling freely. It's here we can lay out our grief. Maybe it's here that God listens when it is too hard for us to talk to him about it. Yesterday our tears were mixed with anger, today they were mixed with sadness. We don't know what tomorrow with bring. We wait, all we ever do is wait.

Escape...

Earlier this month we were able to vacation, or rather escape, to California! The purpose of the trip was to attend my cousin's wedding. We added on a trip to visit friend Ellie and some San Francisco sight seeing! At Ellie's camp we were able to stand in the woods and see lots of green things growing. Then she took us to the ocean...the ocean...a place where we saw Jesus in the waves, where we were reminded of his awesomeness. Then we saw the inside of two local coffee shops...two! We've been deprived. It was nice to be inside them, breathe in coffee aroma, taste the delightfulness of a cup o' java! In San Francisco we saw and tasted China town and Little Italy, experienced the Fisherman's Wharf, city taxis and the trolley. We did not get to eat rice-a-roni (the San Francisco Treat)! I sang karaoke at the bachelorette party for the bride, we sat among 20 or so other guests at the wedding, took in champagne at the cocktail hour, and at the reception we saw magnificent views of San Francisco both before and after darkeness fell, we danced, we ate a three course meal followed by 2 courses of dessert, and we sat enthralled by the beauty of it all, especially the bride and groom. But the most wonderful part of it all....we were with family. We were us, we were pure and wholly ourselves. We were surrounded by people who love us, hug us, laugh with us, cry with us and hold us when we need it. We could be us. We were free.

In a shell....

We haven't been here for a few weeks but we've been busy and on vacation. It occurred to us that this blog is still a secret. We haven't told anyone how to access it. This blog is also our inner most thoughts and feelings....it's like a journal, even a secret one. That is kind of freeing. I'm not sure how it will change once someone starts reading it. But here we are. Yesterday we talked about what is the next step for us on this journey to parenthood? Maybe we do nothing but grieve, maybe we talk to more doctors, maybe we research new agencies (although the one in Oregon still has our application fee that we can use), maybe we try to learn a little more about how to give it all to God. A friend of ours has a friend we can talk to in the Twin Cities, this friend is a doctor and just might have some advice for us. We're sure we can find another agency to work with, another program to look into, more countries to consider. Is it ok that sometimes we're just in pain over this whole thing? Sometimes we feel like we're in a shell...people who haven't been through infertility (and adoption hang ups) don't understand the pain and they seem scared to ask us about it. They probably don't want to know about it, they probably care but they probably can't figure out what to say. I probably wouldn't know what to say. But I think saying something is what we need...are we ok? You know what, we're not sure, but we can talk about it, at least sometimes and if we can't when you ask we'll tell you that. It's like walking through grief and it's very lonely. We have each other and we have God and sometimes we need a little more, sometimes we need you.

Tears are falling.....

We've heard news of three different pregnancies in the past 6 weeks or so. Two of the pregnant are family members, one is a friend from seminary. Each time we heard this news the tears just started falling and wouldn't stop. It hurts so bad. Why can't it ALSO be us? Why can't we be mommy and daddy? I am writing this today because one of the bits of new life news was told to us last night. My mom called to say a cousin is pregnant so we would have time to process before it is announced to the entire family next week. I appreciate knowing beforehand. Maybe the tears will be all used up by the time we hear from the mom to be. By the time the family celebrates. By that time maybe, just maybe, we'll be able to celebrate with them without the floodgates of tears. I'll be the first to say that we harbor no bad feelings about these new lives being created. We are happy about new life. We are just sad that it can't be us celebrating new life that is part of us or that is chosen by us through adoption. We don't have answers and for today we will cry. We don't have hope today, but maybe tomorrow we will. Please Jesus give us hope, catch our tears, hold us through the pain.

Something learned....

I am reading the book "I Will Carry You" and I learned last night that the way we grieve through this infertility process is unique to us, it can be like however we need it to be. If we're fine one day and a mess the next day and can't stop crying the day after that...well, that's ok. We don't have to do this a certain way or follow some sort of rules. No one does. Not you, not me, not Joel, not us together. Yesterday I cried, today I am bummed. Maybe tomorrow I'll be joy filled. It feels good to know that how we do this and when and in what form is part of the road we are traveling. It's all part of the beautiful mess our lives are right now. Beautiful because it's us in pure form, it's us before Jesus as us without any cover. Our hearts may be messy and we don't have any answers and we get mad and sometimes we even stay mad for a while but this is our journey.

Ocean Bound

I think that part of the journey of life must intersect every so often with the ocean. I long for it to be just a bit of therapy. We have two trips to the ocean planned in the next few months. Next week we will see the California Coast and in August the Oregon one. The peacefulness, giganticness, powerfulness of it....you can't help but see Jesus in the ocean. We need the peace it brings, we need the power it brings, we need our hearts to experience the ocean. It has been 4 years to the day, today, that we have been there. This day four years ago we were playing frisbee on the beach, unbeknownst to us just what sort of journey our marriage would bring. It has been so fulfilling, so fun filled and romantic and life giving and just everything we could hope for and more. What we did not imagine back four years ago on the beach was the pain, the hard times, the downs. It is these hard times that meld themselves together with the joys to make us whole. Jesus never leaves us. Remember that footprints poem? That was on a beach. Jesus carried in that poem. We need carried now. We need wrapped in his arms. We know he is there. Jesus met Peter and the Disclipes on the beach. May he meet us at the beach....

Secrets

Is this a place to share secrets? What if the secrets are only secrets to most of the world, but not us or the people we call family and close friends? What if the secret is so much a part of us, that we feel like to really be us, it is ok if the whole world knows?
Do you want to know our secret?
We’ve struggled for over 2 years now with infertility. We’ve had lots of infertility tests. Some of you may disagree with us having these tests….but really that doesn’t bother me. We had to make the decision as a couple that works best for us, that was right for us, that we needed. So I stand by my decision to have these tests done. We both do.
The only solace we get from this 2 and a half year struggle is that maybe, just maybe, God will use our pain to help other couples in the same pain. Maybe this will be a part of our ministry together.
We have dreamed, cried, shouted in anger, imagined, cried some more, fought fear, and nearly drowned in deep sorrowful pain.
Will we ever get to be mommy and daddy? The conclusion that I have come to is that only God knows. That doesn’t mean this conclusion takes the pain away, it just means that some days we only have that to mask the pain, to make it a little less. You know in the bible where it says that God will give us the desires of our hearts? We can only hope and pray that it is true for this desire.
So as the days and months go on and the pain gets worse and the dream seems more distant somewhere deep inside of us we muster up some hope. We cling to Jesus. We cry. We keep on imagining.
Now you know our secret.

Why we are here on this page, writing to you (or is it simply for ourselves?)

What if the Skindlovs were to start a blog? What would it say? What would its purpose be? Those are questions I am pondering today. I have thought about starting a blog for several months now. I first imagined it would be something like a rundown of our daily happenings, especially while on internship, with some thoughts thrown in every so often. But, does anyone really want to read that? Is that the best way to “keep in touch” with friends and family both near and far? Now I imagine it to be a place where we can share our inner thoughts. Thinking about no one reading it makes it seem safe. Thinking about it actually being followed is intimidating and leaves me wondering if I will even be able to share freely within the space of the world wide internet.
Scary, invigorating, intimidating, therapy….these feelings have left me thinking why not?
So here is our first attempt at a blog….
We are a 30-something young married couple who is midway through a 4 year seminary journey. We laugh, love, play, read, talk, enjoy people….all with abandon.
We reside deep in the prairies of North Dakota. We live on a street called Main where our conversations, sleep, television and studies are often interrupted by the people who at all hours decide to “drag main” with their large and small loud-pumped up exhaust systems to make them even louder vehicles. We eat beef grown by friends, we share our lives with people of all ages, we eat lutefisk, learn history and share coffee with people.