Do you ever just feel stuck?
If you’ve been reading The Usual Bliss for a while, you’ve likely caught on that John and I are anxious to start a family. Wow- it sure hasn’t been easy! I’m learning throughout this struggle that this is one area of my life that, try as I might, I cannot completely control. I’ve also learned that I’m stronger than I think. And I’ve learned that despite what a painful loneliness accompanies it, infertility affects a huge number of people. Possibly the most reassuring “assistance” one can receive during this process is the knowledge that she is not alone.
I won’t pretend that my belief in living optimistically hasn’t been challenged during this time- it has. The written word has always been therapeutic for me; it’s a method I use to become un-stuck. There’s something about the act of articulating an experience or emotion that makes it more real. Each couple’s infertility story is unique and deeply personal; I shared a little bit about our “Operation Baby” experience in a piece I call “The Mud Season” on Elephant Journal today. It’s tricky to condense our 15-month roller coaster ride into a few sentences. We’ve been through a lot, but are optimistic about our future. Whatever the outcome, our journey has taught me humility and patience, and made me all the more grateful for the love I have from my family, dear friends, and- most importantly- my handsome hubby. You can link to the article by clicking HERE.
the usual bliss 
Probably should have read this on a different day. Your article is so beautifully written and sent me on a wave of emotions that I’d managed to dodge all day. I’m so sorry for your heartache. I’m glad you were able to knock the mud off your shoes- tomorrow I’ll knock the mud off mine. Not sure if it will help, but my brother and his wife tried unsuccessfully for three years to have a baby. A few months before he died, they found out Teri was pregnant. We were all cautiously ecstatic except my brother who was just plain ecstatic. He even named his unborn baby and teased me when I told him he should wait to name the baby. At 8 weeks, Teri lost the baby. They were crushed and I couldn’t bear to see my brother in this kind of pain. Just like you, he knocked the mud off his shoes and told me that he had a new hope after this whole experience. For years they were not able to get pregnant at all, now he knew that they could get pregnant, they just had to figure out how to hold on to the baby. Dave’s efforts were cut short, but I will pray for yours.
Oh, Erin! What a heartbreaking situation, which made the loss of your brother even more devastating (if that’s even possible). Thank you so much for your prayers! xx
Oh, Amber. I’m so so sorry. What I wouldn’t do to give you a giant hug. I’ve suspected something wasn’t quite blissful in your world lately, but I never realized how close you came to what you wanted and how devastated you must have been when it seemingly disappeared. Thank you for once again sharing your struggles and proving that life has its share of bliss-less moments, but that without them, we would never know what true bliss really is. May you find happiness and healing with John and Cholula and remember bliss can always be found in the love around you. xoxo
Jessica, thanks for your virtual hug! It’s not easy for me to share personal struggles like that but it helps me process the emotions. In the end, I live a happy life and continue to pray for the icing on the cake (a big fat baby to make Cholula jealous!). xx
Beautiful and eloquent. I adore the mud metaphor. It’s heavy, messy and frustrating but necessary for new growth to occur. XO
You know the mud season, there in Bozeman. It’s STILL HERE. But it ends. xxx