Be ye therefore helpful

In my own experience with infertility and loss, I have been buoyed up by the compassion of those around me who knew little more than the fact that I seemed "down." However, I have heard hurtful, insensitive words come from those who were privy to more intimate details.

I read a great post here about helping vs. hurtful hands. I have a very specific idea of who should read this, unfortunately I have no control over who actually will. And even if they do, they'll likely not understand it's meant for them. And if they do know I'm referring to them, they still won't acknowledge they have reason to read it. Nevertheless, I hope, whoever you are, this will help you to understand the necessity for genuine, caring concern and sensitivity when dealing with the feelings and healing of others.

If you know someone who has experienced miscarriage or loss of any kind, you must be sensitive to their needs. Don't know how? Here are a few things I've found helpful:

Independence --Let your loved one dictate the terms of their own grief process, including the type of support they receive and the amount of details they share and its duration. Remember loss is experienced differently by all. No one person can or should decide for others how long it will take or how it should be expressed. Because your grief is best eased by surrounding yourself with family who know exactly what you've experienced, does not make it so for everyone. All loss is personal, miscarriage and pregnancy loss is especially personal and so too are the emotions which accompany such a loss.

Prayer --One of the best and most supportive ways to love your friend or family member through this trying time, is through prayer. Your loved one may be reluctant to confide the intimate and painful details, but our Heavenly Father knows each one of their needs, often better than even they can know. Who better to petition for assistance than one who has descended below all things, who suffered and understands their physical and emotional stings so perfectly? Oft times as I pray a friend or loved one enters my thoughts and I will ask that our Heavenly Father will bless them and help them with whatever needs they might have. I am confident that His omniscience is sufficient to know them just as certainly as I know He knows me.

Time --Many times all that is needed, that you can give, is time. In my own experience I've found this to be the most difficult for some. Grief is messy and uncomfortable, someone else's pain can at times seem burdensome and unbearable. No matter how long it lasts, you should try to be understanding. I was lucky enough to have a neighbor tell me when I was pregnant that having a baby minimizes but does not take the pain completely away. Some have said to me "You have a baby now, isn't it time to get over that already?" I'm not! I spent the anniversary of my most recent miscarriage laying in bed snuggling my sweet 1 month old baby and sobbing. Those emotions may have been compounded by the fact that I couldn't ignore it and let it quietly pass me by as I'd intended. Instead we received a message early that morning that our friend would be going to the hospital to have her baby. I'm grateful for my sweet husband who held me and cared for that sweet baby in moments when I was too paralyzed by my own grief. I'm getting there, and I'll make it... but on my own terms.

Be patient and love us through it.

More questions than answers

I imagine that going to the doctor produces results for other people and that I'm the only one who comes away from that experience with more questions than answers. Of course I know this to be entirely false and know that many of you understand exactly how I feel. But in a perfect world, my perfect world, I would be the only to feel this sorrow because I can't stand to watch those I know and love suffer. I am grateful every day that we don't live in my perfect world! Knowing I am not alone buoys me up and gives me strength that has often surpassed my own expectations.

Wednesday I went to the doctor for the first time since my miscarriage in June. Perhaps somewhere in the back of my mind the miscarriage was my fault and three months of extended pain is my way of giving myself what I deserve. Or perhaps I've been safely ignoring it so well that I didn't want to face the truth. That my body still aches for the little one I've lost. That my heart is broken. Still. It became abundantly clear as I recounted for her the events of that dreadful summer day, that healing in its fullest form still evades me.

My doctor has come up with and written out an explanation of our plan. A plan for what? I'm not sure. What happens when we finish all of these tests? I'm still no closer to the answer than I was before.

Friday I had an ultrasound, Catherine thought the pains I've been having were most likely caused by a cyst developed from the miscarriage. Not exactly a fun prospect, but at this point any concrete reason why I'm still hurting is welcome. Of course, it's never that easy for me. Typically "nothing significant" would be a great answer, it still leaves me in pain and without a clear cause or solution. So, there will be more medication and more testing. And then after that more medication again.

Next week Heavenly goes to the doctor and I go to see an endocrinologist, who will hopefully, determine how well my thyroid is functioning and adjust my medication. Just one more doctor, and higher dosages of medication that sends tremors through my hands. Where did these people go to school who think an increase in dosage will result in a decrease of symptoms? It's only ever been my experience that unpleasant side effects only increase along with the dose.

Did I mention I've been in more pain since the exam Wednesday and the ultrasound yesterday than I have been in quite a while? That wasn't part of the plan.

It's all part of the plan. According to my doctor's plan, we should know within three weeks... I'm not sure what we'll know. My plan? Hope that by the end of this I'll understand whether the best thing for us is to proceed with Clomid (see I told you, more medication) and try again to get pregnant, or to wait some undetermined time to "try again." And... try to keep the crying to a minimum.

He knows

When referring to the Savior's atoning sacrifice, we often remember it as a sacrifice for sins. We forget, I forget, that His perfect sacrifice did more than pay the price for sin. He also experienced pain in all its forms so that we might turn to him for all our problems.

The perfect thing about a perfect atonement, no one, no matter what the sin, no matter what the trial, is exempt from it! So, if you're feeling like no one understands how you feel,(and trust me, I've been there... I'm there now!) He knows.

For our benefit, the poet wrote:

In golden youth when seems the earth
A summer-land of singing mirth,
When souls are glad and hearts are light,
And not a shadow lurks in sight,
We do not know it, but there lies
Somewhere veiled ’neath evening skies
A garden which we all must see—
The garden of Gethsemane. …
Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams
Bridged over by our broken dreams;
Behind the misty caps of years,
Beyond the great salt fount of tears,
The garden lies. Strive, as you may,
You cannot miss it in your way;
All paths that have been, or shall be
Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.

Contentment? Not today.

"Contentment: Inspirational insight for the LDS mother"


This is the title of a book I passed while walking through Walmart. I didn't see any books offering insight for those LDS women struggling with infertility. There is no "Chicken Soup for the childless LDS woman's soul." So I wonder, what about the rest of us?

Family and friends offer words of comfort, words like"It will happen." "...in the Lord's time." "Everything happens for a reason." "We were married for 3 years before we had... and another 4 after that until..." Words spoken in love, with the best of intentions, splinter the shards of my already broken heart and taste like bile in my mouth.

I know all too well that the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. In mid-May "Congratulations, you're pregnant," from my doctor felt more like a cruel joke than welcome news.

It is difficult to find contentment when some mothers are lying in a hospital room counting perfect fingers and tiny toes, and I clutch only my cramping belly and aching heart. In the end my hospital room looks more like a horror movie, soaked crimson with my lost blood and with it lost hope. The agonizing pain of my fruitless labor made sharper as I leave the hospital with empty arms and empty womb.

Contentment you say? Perhaps some day it will find me, but not today.

A few questions I have.

How can two people who built a lovin' home,
Try for years and never have a child of their own?
When somewhere out there tonight,
There's a baby no-one's holdin' tight:
In need of love.
To me, that don't add up.

But I wasn't there the day you filled up the oceans.
I didn't get to see you hang the stars in the sky.
So I don't mean to second guess you,
Or criticize what I don't understand.
These are just a few questions I have.

--A Few Questions by Clay Walker