Mother's Day and Anniversary Musings

          I guess I should preface this post with a little history.  The past three years Justin and I have wanted to start a family.  We got pregnant in Sept 2009, only to lose the baby 9 weeks later.  It’s been 2 and a half years since then, and despite many tests and doctors visits we’ve still yet to have another pregnancy or a glimpse of success.  We’ve been told our best bet is Invitro Fertilizaion which is really expensive.  Like 10,000 dollars per try, and usually it takes a couple tries for it to take. We do want to adopt, but I can’t help holding on to the dream of experiencing pregnancy and the birth of a child that looks like Justin or I.  

         It has definitely been a trial that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.  With Mother’s day only a couple of weeks ago, the whole journey so far has been fresh in my mind.  Needless to say Mother’s day can be really hard.  This year was good though.  I’ve learned that miscarriage and infertility are subjects that not a lot of people talk about openly.  There is this crazy shameful feeling that accompanies infertility.  Like you’ve done something wrong to deserve it, or that you are somehow broken, and it’s embarrassing.  But the reason this Mother’s day wasn’t so hard was because of the amazing support I have from those closest to me that know where I’ve been, and what we’re up against.  So I thought I’d stop hiding this HUGE part of my life, and get it out there. 

        Infertility is hard.  It totally sucks, and is unfair and heartbreaking.  But I am not infertile.  That is not who I am, rather a very small part of me.  I am and have so much more to be grateful for and focusing on.  Why has it taken me so long to realize this?  I don’t know.  I want children.  It is a need in me that is so strong and poignant.  It is indescribable.  But that does not define me.  If having and raising children is what defines me, than I am in real trouble.  What have the last 27 years been about?  I am a valuable, terrific person.  Me.  Lauren.  Just me alone.  But for six years now, I am not just Lauren.  I am not even just the Lauren Gann my parents raised.  I am Lauren Gann Hansen.  My life forever changed the day I agreed to take his name.  We are irreversibly tied to one another in name and destiny.  We are.  Not “he is” and “she is.”  It is we.  It always will be.  It may become a “we” with children, or it may not.  But “we” is permanent.  It is forever.  It became so in our hearts June 6, 2006 and finally in God’s eyes and on paper on December 29, 2007.

           Everything I was and had become up until June 6, 2006 suddenly made so much sense after we were married.  I was engineered perfectly to be his other half.  Everything fit so obviously.  My cheeriness and spunk to offset his seriousness and lack of outward emotion;  my silliness to bring out his;  his adventure and challenges to help me discover true hard work and joy in overcoming those challenges.    The more we learned about each other just made us more grateful that we’d listened to God and bound ourselves together.  We’ve been through a lot since we met:  Separation, repentance, faith, worthiness, temple blessings, adventure, disappointment, grief, pain, frustration, joy, happiness, heartbreak, fear, relief, divine direction and strength.  We passed through all this and so much more.  But even with the many separations we were always one.  We went through it together.  

          I know that over the past three years I’ve had many, many days where I took all of this for granted.  Sometimes it is so easy to focus on what you don’t have than what you do.  It can all seem so unfair until sometimes you gain a glimpse of all that you have.  It’s kind of like when you are really upset because you are cold all of the time in the winter, and you are sick of it.  Then you find out someone you know has a terminal illness and all of the sudden you feel like a silly, silly girl that has no perspective on life.  Well that pretty much sums up me off and on for the past couple of years.  The struggle to add to our family is not nearly over.  In some ways I feel like we’ve just begun, but I try to remember that the most important member is already here; my better half.  I’m so glad he chose me almost 7 years ago.  I have chosen grief and bitterness too much over him.  It is hard with infertility because every month is a new disappointment.  It isn’t one event that can fade and get better.  It is a new fresh wound that seems to never heal all the way.  But I choose him.  I choose him over my own selfishness.  I choose him over my infertility battle.  I choose him because I know that I cannot handle any of these fights without him.  With him by my side and with God’s spirit and guidance in our life, we can overcome any and all battles that come.

       I received a great Mother’s day gift from my sweet mother in law this year that really helped me through that day, and I’m sure many too come.  It is a book called The Sweet, Still Waters of Home, by Carol Lynn Pearson.   It goes through phrase by phrase the 23^rd Psalm of David from the Old Testament and gives insight from a Mother’s perspective.  My favorite part is this:

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.

       In our lives, my love, there is also The Valley of the Shadow of Death.  And unpredictably we are called there.  Walking that narrow path we know darkness, disaster, anxiety, loneliness, disappointment, and anguish.  I have traveled though that place more than once.  The Lord my Shepherd was with me.  As were friends who warmed me, walked with me and kept me from looking down.

I know that you too will be called to enter that demanding valley.  And I promise that you will not need travel it alone.  The Lord our Shepherd will be with you.  I will be with you.

And always, always I will say to you-  

Child, there is purpose to this path.  You have been led here.  Look up, not down.  This path leads to the high country where there is sun and clear water and birds and the greenest of pastures.  Remember my precious one that it is only the shadow of death we meet, a dark pretender.

And remember too, we go through this dark valley.  We do not make our home here living on the ragged weeds of grief and resentment and fear.  We go through the valley, as sure-footed as we can, reaching the high place of joy.”

I know this is a long post with no pictures, but I hope the 2 people who read my blog will forgive me, since I almost never post without pictures. I'm planning to post some of my favorite pictures of Justin and I soon with our 6th anniversary this coming week.  And if you ever have questions about our journey through all of this, please ask. It doesn’t make me sad, or remind me that I’m struggling.  It’s always on my mind, so it’s good sometimes to be able to voice some of that out loud.  And please don’t feel guilty if you are or become pregnant and don’t want to tell me.  I am and will be happy for you, there just might be a bittersweet moment our two in there.