Mother's Song, a traditional lullaby

My heart is like a fountain true
that flows and flows with love to you
as chirps the lark unto the tree
so chirps my pretty babe to me

There is not a rose wherever I seek
as comely as my baby's cheek
there's not a comb of honey bee
so full of sweets as babe to me

There's not a star that shines on high
is brighter than my baby's eye
There's not a boat upon the sea
can dance as baby does to me

No silk was ever spun so fine
as is the hair of baby mine
My baby smells more sweet to me
than smells in spring the elder tree

A little fish swims in the well
So in my heart does baby dwell
A little flower blows on the tree
My baby is the flower to me

Ten thousand parks where deer do run
Ten thousand roses in the sun
Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea
my babe more precious is to me.

 

I heard this poem today and had to post it here. For you to see, for me to be able to read again and access whenever I want. It's lovely and exactly how I feel. Today when my family is celebrating me (and they do it so well!) I just keep looking at my babies and sending silent thank-you prayers toward the heavens. It's true what the poem says: ten thousand roses in the sun, ten thousand pearls beneath the sea, my babe more precious is to me.

To my friends who are struggling with infertility right now I know how hard this day is. Please know that on this day I'm also thinking of you and interspersed with my prayers of gratitude are prayers of hope that everyone who has the desire to be, can someday be a mother.

five

A little while after David was born Audrey and I were talking about her new brother and how he used to be in my tummy. And then she said, "And I was in your tummy too!"

My heart wrenched a little bit and I froze for a second. If I could change it so the answer to that question was "yes" I would do it in a heartbeat.

"No hunny, you were actually in Aunt Megan's tummy, and then Mom and Daddy came to get you."

She didn't even pause. "Oh, yeah! Then you came and got me."

She accepted it so easily and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. We want to be open with Audrey about all the details of her adoption. We try not to make a big deal about it. It's part of her story and she should know about it. However I wasn't exactly sure how to start the conversation and when, but so far- I'm just following her lead, telling her as much as she asks. It's actually been a lot easier than I thought.

The other day we were driving in the car and Audrey started talking about when she was born. She was saying that when she was born she was crying and there was blood on her. "Right Mom?"

and I said,

"Yeah, when babies are born they have some blood on them and they usually cry, but we clean them up and snuggle them and make them feel warm and happy."

Then she said, "and then you and Dad came and got me right?"

"Yep, Mom and Daddy couldn't have a baby and we were so sad but then we prayed to Heavenly Father and he helped us find you and then we were so happy."

Her little voice from the backseat: "And I was so happy too!"

I said, "You were?"

"Yes! I was so happy to be a family!"

Adopting Audrey has made us so happy. SO happy. It's been one of the best decisions of our lives. We've loved every minute with this wonderful girl. And on this day, her birthday, I always think about her birth family. How they blessed us. How grateful I am that she was born. That then she was so lovingly given to me to raise.

First and foremost to Megan, then to Tarl and Debbie, and Garry and Marjie:

Thank you, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart.

And to my girl, who is so smart and beautiful, happy and funny, creative and interesting and amazing:

I love you so much Hunny.

Happy Birthday!

Love, Mom

cravings

Right now I am craving brownies.

However, I have recently lost 52 pounds (that number is embarrassingly high) by NOT eating things like brownies, so I will have a slice of sprouted wheat toast with peanut butter and sliced banana on top. 180 calories. 

But maybe tomorrow I will convince Justin to take me to Great Harvest to get one of their to-die-for brownies that I will buy intending to only eat a few bites and end up eating most of the whole thing right there in the store. And I'll watch Audrey put butter on her own thick crumbly slice of cinnaburst (her favorite) and I'll feed bites of chewy chocolate into Davy's waiting mouth. Or maybe not. I shouldn't. Is it weird that I daydream about carbs?

Today I noticed that Davy's two front teeth are coming in a little crooked. And I think that's adorable. I just know it will only enhance his already charming, messy, crazy, happy little boy persona.

I dedicate my time these days to soaking up the last of his babyhood. I can feel it slipping away. And I want to remember what it sounds like when he runs down the hall with only one sock on: muffled step, slap, muffled step, slap. I want to remember how serious he gets when I hand him his little cup of cheerios and how he runs to the dishwasher to get a spoon out to stir and eat them. I need to capture in my mind the image of the cheesy, squinty eyed grin that he gives me as he lifts his chubby arms to be picked up from the floor, and the way he runs to the corner next to the bookshelf when he gets in trouble. Even last night I scooped him up out of bed while he was still asleep and his little head tipped back and his hands came up to his body in little fists and I thought "I have to remember this."

But I know that it's futile. The blogging and the thousands of pictures help, but no matter how furiously I document, and how many daily facts and stories I dutifully inscribe in his baby book it will never be the same as it is now. I'll look back and be shocked at how little he was, amazed that the grown up boy that I look at daily could ever have been so chubby and squishy.

I know because of Audrey. I missed out on the first three months of her life and then the rest of her tiny time flew by. Although I did cherish every moment with her (infertility will do that to you) I wasn't able to comprehend how quickly she would turn into this beautiful, lithe, smart, inquisitive, girl. And yet, even though she is so big to me now- opening her own car door and buckling her own seat belt, asking questions that make me pause before I answer them, making her own toast- I know that I'll experience the same phenomenon in just a few years again: "How could she be so young?" "Remember when Audrey was only 4 and asked about her birthday every single day?" These will be the questions that I'll ask myself.

Is this the ultimate paradox of motherhood then? Trying to stop the constant sway of time all the while helping to move it along? Wanting to stop them in their tracks, to keep them just the way they are while encouraging them to grow and teaching them new skills? It's bittersweet, for sure. And it keeps me constantly anxious and perplexed.

I think we'll go for that brownie.

part three: making it official

I called my Mom, who had been anxiously but patiently waiting for me to get a chance to call. It was late at night and Audrey's birth family had gone to their hotel. Audrey was asleep in her brand new crib, in her brand new bedroom, with her brand new parents. I got my Mom on the phone and snuck into the dark bedroom. She answered and I whispered, "Mom, I have a baby." She said "Oh! You do!" She asked what the baby was doing and when I told her she was sleeping she was a little disappointed. I offered to put the phone down next to Audrey so she could hear her breathing. I know it's a little silly now, but both my Mom and my little sister crowded onto the phone and listened to my daughter sleep. And it meant the world to me that they were so excited and happy for us.

The next day we saw Audrey's birth family off and then packed up and drove down to see our parents. It probably wasn't the wisest idea since we had just had a stressful few days but we were so excited for everyone to meet her. We stopped at my parent's house first and when we pulled into the driveway my Mom was standing out on the lawn waiting for us. I stepped out of the car holding Audrey and placed her in my Mother's outstretched arms. She said "Oh, Becky" and started crying. She knew how long I had waited for this and how hard it had been. Audrey was covered in kisses by the time we reached the front door of the house. Inside she layed her down on the floor to change her diaper and my darling daughter stretched her tiny feet and hands and talked and talked and talked to her new Grandma. It's one of my favorite memories.

We drove next to Justin's parents house and had another great visit. His whole family was there to welcome Audrey.

Because Audrey had been born in Utah, we had to follow Utah's adoption laws and they required a 6 month waiting period before we could finalize the adoption. At that point they'd have a social worker come to our home and evaluate us with the baby and see if we were providing her with a good home. Those 6 months were difficult. Even though we were so excited to be parents it was difficult to go from not having a baby to having one overnight. As it is with all new parents, the transition was rough. But we also struggled with the emotional aspect of bonding with Audrey. Not in the way you'd expect, however. Because everything wasn't official and we'd had heartbreak for so long, I found myself holding back a little bit. After we'd had her for a week I thought, "If they took her away from me, I'd be okay. It wouldn't kill me." And after two weeks, I had the same thought. But then it was three weeks- and then a month. And I knew that if something went wrong with this adoption that I'd be a mess. She was ours- I knew how to get her to sleep and how to hold her bottle just how she liked it. I developed the sleeping habits of a mother- waking up at any sound she made. Justin played with her while I was cooking and could get her laughing and laughing. Audrey learned to roll over, and then started crawling. And she got excited when Justin walked in the door after work each day. We developed a routine. It became second nature to take care of her.

It was late in January the next year when I got the call from our lawyer that they'd set the date for our finalization. I was sweeping the floor in the kitchen when the phone rang and immediately got anxious. I called Justin at work and told him. We booked a hotel in Utah.

For some reason I was terrified of the finalization. I was nervous to see Audrey's birth family again and hoped that they thought we were doing a good job with Audrey. I was nervous to go stand in front of a judge. I was nervous that something would go wrong and they would take her away from us. For weeks before we went I had nightmares that the judge declared me an unfit mother, or one time there was a dream that I drank a glass of alcohol and then couldn't take Audrey to the temple to seal her to us.

February 10th came and we packed up and headed to Utah with Justin's family and my little sister. I was glad they came with us since I was so nervous. The next day on February 11, 2008 we went to the courthouse. When it was finally time for our hearing everyone went in and sat down. Justin and Audrey and I sat at a table in the front and our lawyer spoke for us to the judge, who had already looked over our social worker's report. The judge asked us why we wanted to adopt Audrey. I spoke first and all I could get out was, "I love her so much, she's made me a mother" before I was crying. Justin spoke much more eloquently than I did but I don't remember a word of what he said. The judge said that our report looked good, that we looked like good parents, and gladly approved the decree of adoption. It was done. We took pictures, did more paperwork and drove home.

The next morning is another clear memory. We woke up like normal, I scooped Audrey out of her crib and walked downstairs and started making her bottle. And I thought, "I'm her Mother." and I really felt like her mother. The day before I had seen my name on paper after paper and form after form and even on her newly printed birth certificate. The law had bound us together, and I felt more comfortable about my new role than ever before.

We sealed Audrey to us in the temple just a few weeks later, on March 1, 2008. That was another wonderful day. The ceremony was beautiful, my baby girl looked gorgeous in her white dress and our whole family was there to support us. The next day in church Justin stood up and gave her a father's blessing. In it he blessed Audrey to be like her Mother.

And I knew that he was talking about me.

the adoption story part 2

We drove down to Utah the very next weekend to meet Audrey and her birth parents. We knew Tarl, of course, since he was Justin's second cousin but had never met Megan. We arranged to have dinner with them at a restaurant in Provo. Justin and I got there first and went inside and sat down. I was so scared and nervous. When they walked in Audrey was asleep in her carrier and I tried not to stare. She was beautiful. We ordered our food and talked and got to know Megan and Tarl. They were great kids, just so young. Somewhere in the middle of dinner Audrey woke up. Megan pulled her out of her carrier and held her for a minute before turning to me and saying, "Do you want to hold her?" I said yes and I held my daughter in my arms for the first time ever. It was a strange feeling at the time- I know that Justin kept talking, but I just sat there, wondering if this baby would be my child. I wanted to kiss the top of her head but I didn't want to freak Megan out so I just kept leaning my cheek down against her soft baby hair.

The next day we saw them again, this time at Megan's house. They let me hold Audrey again while Megan and Tarl and Megan's sister asked us tons of questions about how we would parent Audrey. I'm sure they could see how nervous I was. We answered the questions as much as we could. At the time we weren't parents and had no idea about raising kids. They told us that they would take a few days to think about it and let us know. When we left their house and headed home I burst into tears in the car. The weekend had been a stressful, emotional one and I'd already surprisingly felt a bond with Audrey and it was hard to leave her. I told Justin that if they didn't let us adopt her that I was done with trying to have kids in any way. I couldn't go through this anymore.

We watched our email like hawks the next few days and answered our phone on the first ring. They were the longest few days of my life. Finally an email blinking in our inbox. Megan would like us to be Audrey's parents. We jumped up and down in our kitchen and I called my Mom. We were going to have a baby.

We got a lawyer, and a social worker and started the process. It's not easy to adopt. Background check. A 40 page stack of papers from our social worker that asked us questions about EVERYTHING in our lives. 3 reference letters from neighbors and our family. A physical from our doctor. A home check and interview from our social worker. A large check to the lawyer. On and on.

It had been about a month and we took another quick trip to the Oregon Coast with Justin's cousin, Robert. We had a great time. On the way home we got a phone call. They were bringing Audrey up on Saturday. It was Wednesday. We panicked. Once we were home I cleaned the house for days, we bought a crib and some clothes, diapers and formula. Then Saturday came. And Megan and Tarl and Tarl's mother came. And there was my baby. Tarl's mother kept calling me "Mom". It was surreal. I was so scared that I was going to do something wrong: hold her wrong, change her diaper wrong, say something wrong and make them change their minds.

They left the next day. We walked them out to their truck and then stood on the sidewalk and waved to them as we watched them pull out and turn the corner. And then Justin and I looked at each other. And we looked at Audrey. Here we were and there were three of us. Suddenly we were a family.

the adoption story

my baby girl- back before she was mine

Writing David's birth story got me thinking that I haven't written Audrey's story here. And since my ultimate goal with this blog is to make it into a book for our family, the story of Audrey coming to our family is definitely essential. And so, here we go.

I've written multiple times about our struggle with infertility. When I look back on those two and half years they are mostly blurry, thank heavens. That time is a section of my life where I know that I wasn't the greatest wife, friend, daughter, or sister. Unfortunately, I was mostly focused inward on myself and my problems...hurting. But, there are stark glaring moments during that time that stay with me, and probably always will: the afternoon that I went to the gynecologist and was diagnosed with PCOS then called my Mom and burst into tears, the empty, alone feeling I was left with that one time that I was sure that I was pregnant and then the test showed one lonely line, the palpable jealousy toward anyone else who was pregnant or had a baby that I'm sure I didn't hide well, the crying that I tried to keep from Justin late at night- it was a hard time for us.

One night Justin and I were sitting on a bench outside our little house in Twin Falls and he told me he was done. He'd had enough of the scheduled intimacy, my emotional roller coaster, the pressure, the stress. He was done trying to conceive. I was glad it was dark so he couldn't see my face, although I'm sure he heard the tears in my voice. However, I agreed. We'd give it a break. The stress was hard on our marriage and we'd run out of money for more doctor's appointments anyway.

Although I was never able to put it out of my mind we stopped talking about trying to have a baby, stopped actively pursuing getting pregnant. A few months after that in November 2006 we moved to Boise and the move helped a lot. It was great to be in a new house, in a new town, and we focused on exploring Boise and making plans for the future- a future that included just the two of us. One day in May of 2007 I was talking with my Mom on the phone and she brought up the idea of having a big family fast for Justin and I to have children. It was a great idea and so we asked our parents, and a few other selected family members to fast with us on the first Sunday in June.



That Sunday came and went, a few weeks went by and for personal reasons Justin and I decided not to attend his annual family reunion. We went to the Oregon Coast instead and had a terrific time. When we came back Justin's brother, Marc, had sent us an e-mail that had an interesting little line at the very end of it:


"p.s. Tarl is getting a divorce and they're thinking about putting the baby up for adoption. "


Tarl is Justin's second cousin who had also been at the reunion. His family lives in Utah and we hadn't seen them for a long, long time.


We'd thought about adoption, of course, but I had always assumed that if we did adopt it would be after we exhausted all fertility treatments and that we would take a more traditional route, through an agency. When I read what Marc had typed I immediately dismissed it. There were multiple reasons to: we weren't sure that we wanted to adopt, if we adopted from a family member it would be too messy, we didn't want to get in the middle of a divorce...on and on. Then a quiet thought came to my mind: "You just fasted and prayed for a baby."


With that calm, quiet feeling in our hearts we called Tarl's mother and asked what the situation was. She explained that yes, Tarl and his wife Megan were getting a divorce and they had talked briefly about adoption but they had decided against it. We told them we couldn't have children and asked them to keep us in mind if adoption came up again. A few days later she called back and said that they liked the idea of us adopting the 7 week old baby and asked if she could send us pictures.


I remember the next day vividly- sitting at the desk in our townhouse in Boise, opening the attachment on the e-mail she'd sent and seeing a tiny baby laying on a blanket. There were 3 or 4 pictures but the one that haunted me was the picture at the top of this post. We printed it out and I carried it around with me and stared at it constantly. She was beautiful. Right then I knew that we had to see where this adoption thing could take us.

the last part- delivery

The labor and delivery rooms at St. Lukes in downtown Boise are like glamorous hotel suites. Granite and hard wood finishes, jacuzzi tub etc. We walked into ours on the second floor and were very impressed. Audrey finished her chocolate milk while the nurse helped get me positioned in bed- monitor for contractions, monitor for baby's heartbeat, IV, pitocin drip. We watched it get lighter and lighter outside our window until finally the sun was up and we could see that it was snowing. The snow continued all day long, and I remember thinking that I'd have to tell our baby about the weather. I love snow.

Justin's parents came from Twin Falls and took Audrey back to our house in Nampa to get ready for her friend's birthday party. Soon after my Mom and sister arrived (complete with snacks and make-up- life savers!) and we relaxed and talked and watched Harry Potter. Every once in awhile the nurse would come in and up the level of pitocin in my IV and remind me that I should sleep but I was too excited. I was having a baby!

After a few hours my back started aching. I thought it was just from sitting/laying in one position for too long. I rolled around and shifted, my Mom positioned pillows like a pro and I found some relief. But soon it was back- a strong, burning pain in my lower back. As the pain intensified we figured out that these were contractions and I began to notice a definite increase and then decrease in the pain. "Wow," I thought "so here we go."

I had told the nurses that I wanted to go as long as possible without an epidural because I'd read that an epidural can slow down the labor process. The pain continued to increase and I was glad that my sister had left to go to a store because I wasn't able to stop the tears from coming. Justin was right by my side and quiet and later told me that he'd had a really hard time watching me handle the contractions. My mom was encouraging. I was so glad to have both of them there. Our nurse suggested I sit on a birthing ball to relieve the pressure on my back which helped a little- and I encouraged Justin and my Mom to talk so I could have something else to focus on. Finally I had dilated to a 5 and the nurse suggested an epidural saying that sometimes it could actually speed up the process since it would let my body relax. That was all I needed to hear.

The epidural was administered and I was comfortable again. My Mom and sister went to get some dinner while Justin and I sat and talked with the nurse. She knew this was my first pregnancy even though we had a daughter and wanted to know our story. We talked for awhile about the miracle of Audrey's adoption. She checked me again when it had been an hour since the epidural and her eyes got big. "Guess where you're at" she said. I hopefully said "A 6?" and she laughed and said "try a 9! You've dilated 4 cm in an hour!" She told me to call my Mom and sister and to get ready, at the rate my body was going we'd be ready to push soon.

I was fully dilated quickly and they called the on-call doctor and then had me start pushing. I'd hold my breath and push while the nurse counted to 10 three times with every contraction. After just a few minutes in the middle of one of my pushes she shouted, "I can see the head!" I lost all the breath I'd been holding and said "what?!" It all seemed so surreal. Suddenly I could feel the baby in the birth canal as well- a hard bony little ball between my hips- amazing. She had me stop pushing since the baby was obviously farther down the birth canal than they thought and the doctor still hadn't arrived. When the doctor finally came, she breezed in through the door with at least 5 other people. Curtains were pushed back, shiny instruments were pulled out of sterilized bags and laid on tables, the room was a flurry of activity. The doctor put on her mask, got into position and told me to start pushing again.

It was only two or three more long pushes and he was out- red and crying loudly- an angry little ball with dark hair and tiny hands and feet. They immediately laid him on my chest. He was perfect. I said "hello baby" and the most amazing thing happened- he stopped crying and shifted his head to look at my face. I was surprised that he'd recognized my voice so I kept talking- he laid there quietly and just watched me. It was such a special moment. A few minutes later Justin leaned over my shoulder and said something to me about the baby's hair and his eyes got bigger and he moved his tiny head to try to see Justin- another familiar voice. Thinking about it even now makes me cry.

They moved us up to our own private room on the 8th floor and offered to take David to the nursery for the night so I could get some sleep. But I couldn't let them- I pulled his bassinet next to my bed and stared at his face. Justin slept on the other side of me on the couch and I laid down and tried to sleep but I just couldn't. I couldn't take my eyes off his tiny face. I'd given birth! I'd had a baby! That magical, mysterious act that defines women- I'd done it! That mysterious thing that I'd had to watch and hear about from others but never expected that I'd be able to participate in- it had happened. And it had been more wonderful and exciting and amazing than I'd ever imagined.

the next part

source

Back in April when we estimated our baby's due date (about 2 minutes after the test came up positive) I was disappointed when I realized he would be born in December. I'd heard multiple people complain about the hassle of having birthdays close to Christmas. But as we drove into downtown Boise in the early morning and saw all the tall building decorated- sparkly lights on their edges, cone shaped Christmas trees on the very tip tops- I was glad. What a magical time of year to have a birthday!

We pulled into the hospital parking lot and walked toward the door. I was embarrassed that my pants were wet and grateful that the early hour meant less people around to see me. Just inside the main revolving door we were greeted by a 15 foot Christmas tree decorated in blue and silver and surrounded by poinsettias. It was beautiful and Audrey was completely wowed. I wish now that I had taken a picture of it. We took the elevator to triage and checked in. The lady who took my paperwork called back to get a room ready for me. I don't know what the person on the other end of the phone asked but she glanced down at my pants, laughed and said, "oh yeah, she's definitely ruptured."

We were taken back to a very tiny curtained room where I was changed into a gown and hooked up to monitors. Contractions were happening every 1-3 minutes but they were so minor that I wasn't feeling them. I was told to go walk around the hospital for 30 minutes. Justin helped Audrey change out of her pajamas and we walked first to the cafeteria- a banana for me, yogurt for Audrey, chocolate milk for everyone, then to the Christmas tree- Audrey and Justin went out to the car for our bag while I stood in the lobby and called my parents. And then back to triage- they wanted to monitor the baby's movements before they sent me to Labor and Delivery, but he was asleep. The nurse tried a few techniques to wake him up and then finally "buzzed" him with a small device she placed on my stomach that let out a loud noise and a vibration. We watched my belly jump to one side and then he was active and we moved to the Labor and Delivery room.

the story

3 months ago today.

How has it already been three months?

I start to write the story of David's birth but it is either too long and detailed or not detailed enough- it is either too emotional and personal or not personal enough- it was one of the greatest experiences of my life and the words to express it just won't come out right. Or write. (ha.) But there's so much I want to be sure that I don't forget, and it's already been three months.

3 months. And so...here goes.

3 months ago today I was lying in bed and my belly was large and my ankles were swollen and my hips were aching. It was a little after 4 am and I rolled over from my left side to my right which took a lot of pulling and shifting and grunting. Finally I settled into my pillow, shut my eyes again and tried to find sleep when I felt liquid sliding down my legs. I layed there for a few moments realizing what this meant and my heart started beating faster. I reached over and nudged Justin. It felt like some cliche line in a movie when I shook his shoulder and said,

"Justin wake up- I think my water just broke."

He bolted upright and said, "What?". I explained what I thought was happening again as I climbed out of bed and walked to the bathroom. At my doctor's office the week before the nurse had told me "If your water breaks you're going to need a sham-wow." and she was certainly right. I had to stand in the shower because the fluid just kept coming. Justin asked me what needed to be done and I had a hard time clearing my head and focusing. Adrenaline was pumping through me and I just kept thinking "I'm going to meet my baby today...I'm going to see his face...I'm going to give birth..." Justin stood in the doorway of the bathroom and I stood in the shower, dripping, and we tried to figure everything out- what were we going to do with Audrey? What about the birthday party she was supposed to attend later that day? Should I eat something before we left for the hospital? Should we install the car seat now or later? How was I going to get dressed with all this water continually cascading down my legs??

We stopped our conversation short when I started shaking. I made myself get out and get dressed, which helped calm me down, then walked around the house with a towel between my legs as I gathered the hospital bag, my pillow, and everything else we needed. Downstairs I forced myself to eat a small bowl of cheerios and then asked Justin for a blessing. Afterward we woke up Audrey, wrapped her in a blanket and stepped out into the cold morning and climbed into our car. As we pulled out onto the street Justin said, "So, December 4th. Our baby's birthday is going to be December 4th."


more to follow

healing

The nights are my favorite.

He never cries at night. Instead I wake up to small grunts and snorts- his hungry mouth smacking on his tiny fist, his limbs flailing around in frantic egg-beater fashion. I put on my sweater and scoop him up, then wrap him in blankets against the chill in our dark house. He buries his face in the fabric on my shoulder, searching, and I'm grateful that he's quiet as we pass the door to his big sister's room.

I stumble downstairs, turn on the dim lamp, settle into the couch and get him positioned. We nurse, and his tiny body snuggled against mine and his hungry gulps and swallows make me smile. Then when he is full and sleepy, and his body is limp, I pick him up and lay him on my chest to pat his back. I listen to the purring little sighs he makes with each exhale, and smell the sweet sour milk smell that comes from the many tiny folds in his neck no matter how often I bathe him.

And my soul mends.

With each small sigh and with each whiff of new baby smell the feelings of failure and inadequacy melt away. The wound of infertility that his sister healed is completely invisible now- he's removed even the vestige of a scar. I marvel that he exists, that he is here, that I brought him here. I whisper a prayer of thanks.

He listens to the familiar sound of my heartbeat and falls asleep.

I do too.

But then I wake up and look at the clock, kiss the top of his head and turn out the light.

And we walk upstairs to bed.

working

I had done a pretty good job of convincing myself that I'd never, ever be pregnant.


So good that when I saw two lines show up on the pregnancy test, I didn't feel much at first. I called Justin in and just kept saying, "this can't be right, there's got to be something wrong." And Justin even spent a few minutes with furrowed brow looking over the box and reading the directions to make sure that the two lines meant what we thought they did.

Before you roll your eyes and think how silly or dramatic I was to give up hope so easily of ever being pregnant, let me explain-


I had to.


Hope hurts. Hope got me thinking of babies and a future filled with first steps and birthday parties and a big family and sunday dinners and softball games. Hope built up those dreams, that then shattered and laid around me in pieces month, after month, after month.

At the time that I looked down at that pregnancy test and saw what I thought I'd never see, we'd been trying to get pregnant for 5 years. 5 years, or roughly 60 months of disappointment. At that point I'd taken at least a dozen pregnancy tests, and in the past, had searched and searched for that second elusive pink line. I'd leave the test lying on the counter for longer than the three minutes that it said to allow. When there was still a lonely, single line after 5 minutes (or 10) I'd throw it in the garbage reluctantly. There were even a few times when I went back and pulled the test out of the trash to see if that second line had somehow shown up mysteriously late- but

it was never there.

For me, the pain of infertility was two-fold. The first part, the worst part, was the longing for a child. The instinct to nurture, the need to be a mother. This was the hardest, this was the pain that kept me awake at night, had me crying quietly into my pillow while Justin slept beside me. This pain was amazingly, miraculously gone when Audrey came to our family. I was actually a little surprised at how quickly it vanished- replaced by more love and contentment than I ever expected.

However, there was another, smaller pain that lingered on. It didn't keep me awake at night or cause me significant heartache, but it was there, and would pop up unexpectedly when I saw a glowing pregnant woman or when I found myself on the outskirts of a conversation about pregnancy symptoms or delivery stories- conversations that are badges of courage for almost all women, conversations that I could not participate in. This smaller, quieter pain was the pain of feeling like a failure in the most basic way possible. My body couldn't do what almost every other woman's body could. I wanted to know that I wasn't somehow broken or deficient inside, I wanted to work. Luckily, this pain was easily ignored. I'm a mother now through the miracle of adoption. I have a beautiful happy daughter and nothing to complain about. Any fears about future babies were quieted with the plan that when we had the money to do so, we'd start the adoption process again. And that was fine with me.

But now two little pink lines, once so longed for and then forgotten, have shown up and changed my life. Now I have heard a fast, fluttery, very tiny heartbeat coming from deep inside me, echoing my own. My stomach is starting to protrude and when I press on it it is firm and round, protecting this tiny, miraculous life. I feel almost holy- I am housing and wholly supporting another life.


And I am so proud of my body.

So proud that it knows what to do, that everything is working, that somehow it knows how to support, and nourish, and take care of this little being even as I am still trying to wrap my head around what is happening. So far being pregnant has been hard, but I'm still thankful that I get to experience this. So thankful that I got to lie on a table last week and look at a small screen and watch a tiny baby move around inside me and stretch it's arms. Tears rolled down my face into my hair almost immediately and I watched in awe as Justin held Audrey up to the screen to see our baby. It was truly a miracle. The second full-blown miracle that I've been able to experience in my life.



I don't know how I could ever ask for more.

because it's June

Becky and Justin, June 2001

June is a month of beginnings for me.

Eight years ago, on June 9, 2001, Justin took me on our first date. I wore jeans and a white t-shirt with flip flops and Justin commented on the color of my toe-nail polish. We played miniature golf and drove go-carts. We had a lot of fun, there was a lot of laughing. The picture above was taken just a few days later.

It was this month four years ago when Justin and I decided to start our family. We had been married for two years and were living in a tiny little apartment in Twin Falls, and were so excited. I had my entire pregnancy planned out. We stopped all forms of birth control and were sure we'd be pregnant by July.

And then it was this month three years ago when I looked up a gynecologist/fertility specialist in the phone book and made an appointment. Justin went with me and held my hand, I was anxious to know why we weren't able to have a baby but so scared to hear what the doctor had to say. We left his office with orders for five prescriptions, four for me and one for Justin, as well as appointments with more specialists, pamphlets on polycystic ovary syndrome, and lots of forms to fill out. The beginning of another journey. I called my Mom when we got home and burst into tears.

A year later on the first Sunday in June 2007, Justin and I, along with our parents and some other very close family members, fasted and prayed that we'd be able to start our family. It was such an amazing feeling that day, to know that our families were thinking of us, praying for us. And later that month, we got an e-mail from a family member telling us about a little baby girl who was just 7 weeks old who might need to be adopted. We received pictures of a gorgeous tiny baby with light brown hair and dark eyes and fell in love. She was beautiful. And she still is.

As June has come this year, I have the same feelings I usually do. I look at Justin and remember how nervous I was on our first date and can't believe that it's been eight happy years. I mourn a little bit when I think that it's been four years of trying to get pregnant and wonder about the future of our family. And I look at my daughter and thank my lucky stars and my Heavenly Father for the millionth time that she's here in my life.

And now, with the recent changes that have been forced on us this year, I hope that this June will prove to be another great beginning for me and my family.

Miss A's Birthday

I can't wax nostalgic about the day that Audrey was born like so many other mothers do on their children's birthday.

I can't, because I wasn't there.

I don't know what I was doing on May 7, 2007. Probably everyday mundane tasks like making phone calls or grocery shopping. I'd like to say that at 7:20 pm I paused in whatever I was doing- that as Audrey was taking her first breath and seeing the world for the first time that I had some sort of premonition that my daughter had just been born.

But I didn't.

On May 7, 2007 I had no idea that my life would soon change forever because a beautiful baby girl had just been born in a hospital in another state. I had no idea that my dream of being a mother would soon be a reality.

It kills me a little bit each time I think that I missed out on such a hugely important day in my daughter's life. That I wasn't there to hold her or kiss her, to gaze into her eyes in her first few moments. But these thoughts are always quickly followed by an overwhelming gratitude to the woman who did give her birth. The brave woman who gave Audrey life, and then selflessly gave me the opportunity to be a Mother. Thank you Megan. Thank you so much.

I wasn't there that day, but I am here now, to celebrate the second anniversary of the day that this special little girl was born and blessed not one, but two families. Everytime she looks at me with those big eyes and smiles or calls me Mama I have to pinch myself to make sure that she's really here, that she's really mine. She's the greatest miracle in my life and I love her so much.

Happy Birthday Audrey

love, Mom

We have great friends

We went to church in our old ward today to attend a baby blessing for our friends Art and Maureen's baby girl Mia. It was so fun to see everyone there that we've missed so much. It was also surprisingly emotional for me.

When we moved to our townhouse in Boise and attended church for the first time we had been trying to get pregnant for two years already and were really, really struggling with that. As we met and got to know more people at our church it became clear to us that we had been guided there for a reason. There were many other couples our age that we quickly became close with that were having the same problems. It made such a difference to us to have sympathetic friends who knew exactly what we were dealing with, who were experiencing the same struggles. Now, two years later, we all have children. Every single one of us. And today as I sat next to Maureen in that familiar chapel, holding my sweet daughter on my lap and watched her rock her long-awaited baby to sleep I was so thankful to my Heavenly Father for two things: as always, I was grateful for the miracle of my baby girl and I was also so thankful for good friends.

The great people that we came in contact with in our church have helped me through the most difficult trial that I have experienced so far. As it says in this article (it's great, check it out) some say that religion is a "crutch". And, I must admit that I've used it as one. I've relied on the faith of others when mine wasn't up to par. I've attended church because I knew I was "supposed to" even when I've been angry and empty inside. And my religion has always been there for me. But it's more that just something to lean on. It's also made me stronger. My religion and the people that share my faith have helped me heal.

As I sat next to Maureen today and sang Christmas hymns, and looked around at so many people who I love so much, I was so grateful for our time in the 16th ward and the friendships that we've made that I hope will last for a very long time.

A little while ago Justin asked me if I still get my hopes up. If, despite the years of failure and disappointment, I still wonder and hope and pray every month when I'm a little late on my cycle.

Since Audrey has come into our lives, so many things have changed. The grief and sadness and anger that accompanied our infertility have magically disappeared. Over night. I don't cry at night anymore. Instead of tearing up at the mention of anything baby related I'm laughing all day long at my funny daughter. Instead of dreading church and it's focus on raising families, I'm embracing it and loving so much that I can be included. I don't count days of the month and chart ovulation anymore, I don't spiral into a weepy mess when my unwelcome period comes yet again. I'm too busy snuggling this beautiful, sweet, wiggly miracle that I get to call my daughter.
If Audrey is the only child we have we will be happy and count our blessings and thank our Heavenly Father for her and everyone that helped bring her to us for the rest of our lives.

But, we want to have more children. We want Audrey to have a little sister or brother.

Whether I get pregnant or we adopt again really doesn't matter.



It really doesn't.

But, my answer to Justin's question? Do I still get a little hopeful and then a little disappointed?

I said, "Every time."

and Justin's response? "Me too."

I am thankful for...

tiny fingerprints all over my house.

Most people already know this but Justin and I tried unsuccessfully for years to have a baby. After so much frustration and sadness, so many trials and tears I am so thankful to have Audrey. There are many times during every day when I catch myself looking at her, marveling that she's even here, that she's so perfect. It has made the toys all over the living room, the chocolate milk stain on the carpet and the fingerprints on anything and everything a joy instead of an irritation. I am truly trying to follow President Monson's advice to "relish life as we live it, to find joy in the journey".