The night she fell asleep without me.

You know, it didn't even start as this idea to always be there. I didn't purposely set a goal to ensure that I was always around. When she was tiny, I had to put her to sleep, HAD to. Aspen has always had issues falling asleep and staying asleep. So we just did what we had to do to accommodate her needs and stay sane. But, after a couple years of laying next to her, something happened. I started thinking about a time when I wouldn't be there for that very moment and I was seriously dreading it! So for the next year or so, I actually tried to be home in the evening for our nightly ritual.

There was a few nights when I was out later and fully expected her to fall asleep on her own, but alas, I came home and she was up, waiting for me. Usually happy to see me, and I her.

Tonight, she fell asleep without me laying next to her.

And, I think I will live. I will be fine because she is fine. That's the funny thing about watching your baby grow up. You see every progress and change that comes her way, and for a while, you even fail to notice that you change too. But we're always changing. And then, one fall night, you come home from work and find her already asleep, warm and cozy in her bed. And everything is just as it should be.

On the eve of your third.

For a minute, I waited outside the trailer. I was done doing the dishes, picking up the chairs and untangling the dog's leashes. But I stood there, cold and tired, just listening to your Dad read you a bedtime story through the door. I stared at the blue christmas lights we used to decorate the outside of the trailer. I wanted you to know that this day was different, that this weekend was all for you. I didn't expect you to love it as much as I did. But I could see the magic in your eyes when you screamed "This lights for me? For my birthday?!"
My eyes wandered up, towards the sky. The trees around our campsite were full and green but opened up so we could see the stars shining directly above. You know those moments where your heart swells and you just feel utterly grateful for every single thing that you have? THIS was one of those moments. Time stood still, and quiet, and peaceful. Even in these moments when I'm not in your presence, I am thinking of you.

In the last three years, you have opened my eyes, you have taught me to be more a part of your world and less of mine. But between your second and third birthdays, I have seen and heard some amazing things. I love hearing you make up new and random lyrics just so you can sing to us and how you always want to say a prayer for every occasion! Aspen, when you dance, everybody stops to watch. You take your time and execute every little move. It's inspiring to see such a young person like you, be so tuned in to your self. Tonight, as we roasted marshmallows, you started to do what I can only describe as a "smoke dance" with the fire. It was amazing. You're amazing.

You say things like "I love myself!" and "I am smart and my a strong and my brave." And, this morning "I can do anything!" when you accomplished something that seemed impossible. I can only hope, as any Mother would, that you don't ever loose that love and self worth because it is such a beautiful thing to see. I hope you continue to encourage others, and grow new friendships. I hope that this third year of life is full of magic and awe as you continue to discover life in all forms. And Aspen, thank you. When we asked you what you wanted to do for your birthday and told you we would do anything you wanted, you chose camping without a second thought. Thank you for remembering how much we all love to be together, in nature, away from all the worries of the world.

Happy birthday my little Aspen tree, next time you see me, you will be three.

Two Hands

Tarzan is a pretty awesome movie. Even as adults, Dave and I love to sit down and watch it with Aspen. She sings through all the songs (ok, some of it is more babbling) but all the same, it is pretty fabulous to hear "You'll be in my heart" from a toddlers mouth.

For those that aren't too familiar with the story, Tarzan is a human orphan that Kala takes on as her own child. Kala is a Gorilla. So Tarzan grows up with a family of Gorillas, swinging from tree vines, walking on all fours and even using his feet for peeling bananas. Pretty talented honestly. There is a scene in the first part of the Disney movie where toddler Tarzan gets upset and smears his face with mud. He then looks in a lake at his concealed reflection. For the first time in his life, he looks like everyone else.......he looks like a Gorilla.

Kala, comes up and gently starts wiping his face off while Tarzan asks "Why am I so different?" It's such an amazingly tender moment when his mother puts out her hands for his. A pair of giant brown Gorilla hands and small soft toddler hands join together. One huge and one small. "Forget what you see. Now what do you feel?" Kala says. She puts his hand  on her heart to feel it beating. Just like his own heart does.

I have to admit that the first time I saw this scene, I got teary eyed.

Now my toddler, who seems to be more in tune with her emotions then most adults I know, has consistently offered her hands to Dave and I for the last week. She comes up to us and says "Two hands Mom" or "Two hands Dad". And she holds it. It's almost a game to see who drops their hands first. Sometimes she giggles and sometimes she just stares.

Maybe she's just reenacting a random scene from her favorite movie. Or maybe she just thinks it's funny that Dave and I do whatever she tells us to! She does have a sence of humor. But I think, just maybe, it is something more. I think she must realize the significance of that moment when we see that we are all the same underneath. That we all have two hands, two eyes and a single heart. And that's exactly what I think of everytime she is kind enough to remind me.

This time, I pulled over.

One of the first things I noticed about my husband is that when I am around him, he makes me lose track of time. I don't know what it is! Maybe he is really that intriguing or maybe I am just completely at ease around him. Whatever it may be, I have loved the life and the home that we have created together. Where time can pass slowly or quickly but we never miss a minute because we are together.

Aspen came along and added to this feeling of peace. When I am with her, time does not exist to hold us back from our adventures.  But believe me, when we are apart, I am quick to get back to them.

Tonight was different. I was driving home from my usual Tuesday night appointment and I glanced out my widow and caught a glimpse of the sun peeking through the clouds. I am far too intuitive to ignore the prompting that I felt. I just couldn't let something so beautiful happen right in front of me and I not take a moment to appreciate it. So, instead of getting home to see my family as fast as I could,  I pulled over and I soaked it up.
And do you know what, it did me a lot of good.

I had a rush of thoughts. First about the beauty in this world, which God has given to all of us. Then, I remembered all the things that I have to be thankful for, my beautiful family, my home and my life that is so fulfilling to me. I really do have so much to be grateful for. I was then overcome with a feeling of peace, my mind was completely at rest.  A feeling that I know well but tend to forget when I get caught up in this worldly chaos.

As it turns out,  that's exactly why I pulled over.

About a Journey.

As life would have it, I am once more looking at my past in awe at the wonders that have unraveled before me. I cannot hide my reality, I choose not to. I choose to look it in the face, to breathe in the fear, to swallow the pride that envelopes me and live. I live the best way I know how.
Each of us are on at least one journey at any given time. This is about my journey through a world of sorrow, passion and deep love. My journey through Infertility. 

After 3 years of marriage, Dave and I finally felt ready to have children. We enjoyed our time together but were ready for the next big thing. We were patient as the months went by. Six months passed,  then 8 and I decided to start charting my cycles. I learned a lot about my body. There were a few minor issues that I sought to correct through herbs, diet and other alternative measures. I saw the changes I wanted in my cycle but nothing came of it. I started feeling vacant. Something was wrong but I didn't know what.

We were camping one weekend in April (1.5 years since we started trying) when Dave and I discussed the next step. What if there was something wrong with him? Or me? What would we do? And the million dollar question, how far would we be willing to go to see this dream fulfilled. We were merely kids in the eyes of the world, we were undeniably clueless to the journey ahead.

A week later, while planting my garden, I started spotting mid cycle. Everything I learned about my body was under scrutiny. I had never had a mid cycle bleed, ever. That week things started to change. The bleeding lasted a couple days and then came the symptoms. I was shocked to see that tiny second line show up on my home pregnancy test. This was it, all the hard work paid off. Funny how urine on a stick could make someone so happy......but only for a moment.

Our first ultrasound showed an 8 week baby, heartbeat and all. Only one problem, he/she was in my right fallopian tube. Oh boy, this is not good. Two scenarios could play out, neither one involved us taking home a baby in 8 months. Off to surgery we go.

I cannot describe the feeling I experienced as I chose my life over the life of that tiny being. The pain of the ectopic pregnancy was nothing compared to seeing that tiny heart beating replaying in my head over and over again. My tube burst just 30 minutes before surgery. One tube down, one left.

I was strong though and Dave was too. He followed my lead carefully, not knowing what I was up for. We tried again and got pregnant right away only to miscarry immediately. Heartache all over again. I dreamt of these babies often. In September, I was pregnant again. I was getting blood tests and progesterone tests done every two days and feeling so hopeful even though I was spotting. We were off to Utah for a family wedding that next week. We had a great time. I had morning sickness but I wasn't complaining. The night before our flight back home, I got an awful feeling in my stomach, not cramps, not pain, just intuition trying to tell me something. I prayed, hard. Then I knew I had to go to the hospital just to be sure. 

The ultrasound tech seemed hopeful as she begun the screening. There was a tiny sac in my uterus. At this point I was just under 6 weeks pregnant so we should be able to see more. The search continued and she found the baby in my left fallopian tube. Off to surgery once again. We were hoping the Doctor could salvage what was left of my tube. The thought of losing both of them was weighing heavily on me. When I awoke, the room was dark. It was 4 in the morning. Dave was standing over me to give me the news that we would no longer be able to concieve a child on our own. The only way for us to get pregnant would be through In Vitro Fertilization,  something we said we would never do.
Dave was tired so I told him to go back to his Moms to sleep. 

I lay there in the dark, alone, and an amazing thing happened. I was comforted. I have no doubt that I was surrounded by loved ones. It was a feeling mostly, but I could see them too. The room was crowded and I felt overwhelmingly loved. 

I can do this. I can move on.

The next months were some of the roughest. The difficulty that infertility put on our marriage was evident. We had to make choices. Choices that we never wanted to make. We had to agree on something because nothing was not an option.
In February,  I had surgery again to remove what was left of my tubes and to the close the opening that led to my uterus. We did not want to chance another ectopic pregnancy and even with IVF, where they put the embryo in your uterus,  there is still a chance that it can float up and attach to the fallopian tube.

Then, in May, we started an IVF cycle. Every day Dave would give me between 2-4 shots in the glutes, abdomen and thigh. Then, I would drive 25 minutes to the clinic for blood draws and ultrasounds every other day. I cannot even 

explain how stressful it was to literally put all our eggs in one basket. Five days into the cycle and my Doctor was ready to cancel because I was not responding at all to the injections.  It turns out that losing my tubes was not the only problem causing my Infertility,  I also had "diminished ovarian reserve". On a whim,  he upped my dosage even more and I prayed for a miracle.  Finally, we had some progress and continued  as planned. We were able to get 5 embryos, 4 fertilized and we transferred 2 in the beginning of June.

We have a two year old girl. She's beautiful, lively and she's a miracle. I cherish every moment  I have with her. But, I cannot say that this journey is over. I am not fixed, I am still missing a part of me and that is something I have to continue to overcome every day. So to say I have overcame Infertility is not entirely correct.  But believe me when I say that my heart is full, I am blessed and I would do it all again for the time I have spent with my little girl. 

About 12% of couples live with infertility. My heart aches for those that will never be able to have a baby in their arms whether through ART, IVF, IUI or adoption. My hope for the future is that more people will recognize infertility for what it is,  a disease, and that more people will show compassion towards those afflicted. 

I would like to thank my family and Daves family for their support,  love and encouragement. And to all others who traveled with us on this journey, whose presence will never be forgotten. We are blessed indeed.

Engraving

If I close my eyes long enough and imagine being there again,  I can almost smell the water and hear the waves crashing. Even though I still have sand crystals on my back,  it's hard to believe that just a mere two hours ago,  I was holding Aspen and drifting into the sea.  I have come to the conclusion that the beach must be magical.  It must be a place to forget the world, the fear and the sadness, the reality of defeat. It must be a place that ignites recovery in our souls.
This picture was taken with my phone.  It has an edit mode called "Engraving". I have never been able to use it because the pictures never turn out.  Well, I think I finally found the picture that this mode was made for.  This is my engraving.

The end of Chapter 1

Feeling nostalgic yet again tonight. It is so easy to get lost in moments during times of change. Change will always come. I guess this night is less of a change and more if a gradual progression. Yep, it's more like the end of a chapter.....One of those chapters you have to go back and reread for fear you may miss or forget something. This is the last night we will hold our one-year-old little girl.  Tomorrow, whether we want it or not, is coming, and our baby is turning two.

I don't understand why some people say they don't want their baby to grow up.  I am dumbfounded every stinking day at this child. I mean,  I know all parents feel this way,  but geez, she is so clever, shes an adorable, borderline perfect, tiny human. To miss out on seeing the person she blossoms into would be tragic for me, utterly tragic.  And in my 30 years of living,  I have discovered that time stops for no one. So, on this special girls birthday,   I vow to NOT wish her everlasting infancy, to NOT bawl my eyes out when she blows out her candles and most importantly,  I will NOT try everything I can to discover a way to freeze time. No, tomorrow will be here soon and we will create memories, we will enjoy our cute little family and we will not dwell on anything negative.
But tonight,  while my sweet almost two year old is sleeping, I will be watching every breath she welcomes. I will be listening to her tiny grunts and moans and committing them to memory. I will, quite honestly,  be counting down the last precious moments I have with a one-year-old. AND, I will not hold back tears tonight. Sweet dreams little Aspen. Tomorrow you will be two.