



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
from Strive Running Co. My dad found a jogging stroller for us at a killer price... $5, killer! And since Heavenly is in the academy he needs to be running more than the 10+ miles/week he's already been running, I've got myself a running partner.
One of my co-workers made the decision to quit drinking soda pop starting today and I decided that'd be a great time for me to do the same. He bought us these...
I don't walk up to couples with several children and say, "Man, you guys must f*** like rabbits!" First of all, it's none of my business. Secondly it's just inappropriate!
Why is it that everyone reading this post knows how inappropriate that last sentence was, but 98% of those people who are offended will be shocked that I think asking a couple when they're planning to get pregnant is equally inappropriate? Perhaps if I added a four-letter word to any of my examples of are-you-trying questions, everyone would recognize how tactless they really are.
My mom always tells me I'm a mixture of spirituality and spunky irreverence, and somehow it works. So, here's my attempt at restoring balance by ending this mostly irreverent post on a spiritual note...
I found the following quote, regarding birth control, from the LDS Church Handbook very fitting in this instance. You can find it here.
"It is the privilege of married couples who are able to bear children to provide mortal bodies for the spirit children of God, whom they are then responsible to nurture and rear. The decision as to how many children to have and when to have them is extremely intimate and private and should be left between the couple and the Lord. Church members should not judge one another in this matter.
Married couples should also understand that sexual relations within marriage are divinely approved not only for the purpose of procreation, but also as a way of expressing love and strengthening emotional and spiritual bonds between husband and wife.
Recognize that sex, for couples struggling with infertility, becomes much more chore/job-like, a "have to" rather than a "want to." Romance and sexual pleasure take a back seat to things like basal body temperatures, ovulation charts and properly timed/scheduled intercourse to name only a few.
Check out http://www.ldsinfertility.org/ for facts and suggestions of ways you can support your friends and members of your family who may be struggling to cope with infertility and/or sterility.
Pray. Pray for your friend or family member. And, pray for yourself so that you can be guided to be, to say, and to do those things that most effectively build your relationship with those you love who are dealing with such a hard trial. I know you will be inspired. I have seen it work many times.
Be careful about the comments you make.
1. Acknowledging that you don't know what to say or how to say it can be most effective. Followed by an "I really want you to know that I care about you. I sometimes just don't know what to say. What can I do that will be helpful to you?"
2. Focus on the person you are talking to. We often bring up stories about someone else or about an experience we had, simply because it is what we are familiar with and because it fills the conversation.
3. Be simple. Use only a few words. Write them down and review them before the conversation. If you open the door, your friend will talk if they feel comfortable.
4. Making light of or joking about infertility can be offensive. Some couples joke about their situations, but let them be the ones to initiate that type of conversation.
Life is not all about conceiving, giving birth, and raising children. Have conversations around infertile couples that are related to things other than families. It is hard to be in an environment where everyone is talking about breast-feeding and you have no way of relating. We would probably all benefit from conversing about more varied topics.

When I mentioned it to my mom she tried to get me to calm down by pointing out that it was 'worded funny and that's what makes it comical.' I love my dear mother, she's continually trying to get me to relax and to not take things so personally. Poor thing, it's a full time job! And probably a hopeless effort at that.



Okay, maybe I'm being dramatic. A little. It's been nearly a week since the official first day of Spring. I'm sitting at my computer and finding myself longing for a getaway. For the beach. For this:
Sigh, and this:


After nearly a decade and a half of being told by doctors, experts in their respective fields, telling me: "Your body won't be able to support a baby" or "You'll never have children," more than 2 years of trying (a hiccup compared to that of others' infertility experience, really) and the agonizing loss of 4 precious souls... I held proof in my arms that doctors don't know everything and miracles do happen.
Grandma Holland held him for the first time. Beautiful. Perfect. The phlebotemist pricked his tiny heel as she held him for a glucose level. It was supposed to be 40 at the lowest. Instead, 14. She rushed for the nurse, they rushed him out, I barely got to say goodbye.
Daddy followed them to the nursery and stayed with him all day. Daddy and Grandpa Holland gave him a blessing. They gave him glucose through an IV to try to get his sugar levels up. Houston kept forgetting to breathe on his own and with a decreasing temperature they contemplated incubation. At 7, when they typically kick parents out for shift change meeting, they decided to try one thing first. They brought him to my room. I held him for the second time in his short little life, skin on skin. After the fastest 30 minutes of my life, a nurse came to my room and took him back to the nursery. Miracle 2: He never stopped breathing again and his temperature went up and stayed up.
First in the left hand, then in the right, nurses were running out of places to put his IV. Friday, 3 days old: Heavenly decided (at my urging) to go to work for the day. After all, we were both well taken care of and stuck there. I'd call him if anything changed. I went to the nursery for the first morning feeding. His IV had leaked once again and they informed me they may need to put one in his precious little head. I turned to see a man in an Airmed flight suit and knew instantly my little one was in capable hands. Still, I was alone. Surrounded by hospital staff. But all alone. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the most beautiful sight, my mom. He turned him this way and that, trying to get a better angle with which to place the IV into his tiny vein. Houston wailed and cried. The flight nurse finished with the IV and secured it with tape. He picked him up, I thought to hand him to me; instead he held him to his chest, patted his back and kissed his tiny forehead, "Let Grandpa love you better," he said. I'm sure this was done more for his own benefit than for Houston's.
After 6 days in the intermediate nursery, the ankle monitor was off, we were going home. Three of us. Finally.
Home at last!! Babies are like kittens, it takes them a few weeks before their eyes really stay open.
He fit sideways in the basinette. Sideways! So tiny.
Here's the "newborn" onesie his Aunt Karen bought for him. As you can see it's a little loose. I miss those scrawny little legs. And check out that binky!!
He finally fit into it at 3 months. And just last Sunday, he wore it again. He's 8 months old now and squeazable, chubby legs have replaced those loose, elephant-skinned, scrawny ones.
This still leaves me 5 months behind. Be patient, I'll get there. Someday.