Anything-Can-Happen October

A week ago (while we were on our Great Western Vacation), I got one amazing piece of news. I’ve been chosen as this month’s Adopt-A-Blogger by This Cross I Embrace, a wonderful blog that I’ve been following for years, and mentioned in this previous post. I am so incredibly grateful for this. Thank you, thank you, thank you for your prayers and support. If you’ve never heard of this beautiful prayer campaign, check this out:

Adopt-a-Blogger

I’ve been asked to write a few paragraphs about myself, and truth be told, I don’t know what to say. My infertility journey is a little unusual. At age 16, when I still hadn’t gotten my first period, my mom took me to a number of doctors until someone was finally able to figure out the issue. To everyone’s shock, we discovered that I was born with MRKH- a rare birth defect that affects 1 in 5000 women: I was born without a uterus, cervix, and, well- check this website out for more information, if you’re curious as to details. That kind of shock doesn’t just literally affect the course of your life- it also creates a huge identity crisis. Was I actually female? Was I still like every other girl? Why did God make me this way? What was the purpose of this? Why make me female and Catholic without any hope of becoming a mother?

That was 10 years ago. In that time, I’ve done a lot of grieving, and I’ve come a long way. I learned that having a uterus isn’t what makes someone a woman (even though in our English language, we refer to a girl’s first period as “becoming a woman”). I’ve learned that being a faithful Catholic does not mean that your marriage must produce 6+ children. I’ve learned that my life has meaning and value, and that God does have a purpose, even if I can’t see all of it at once.

I feel like Dorothy at the end of the Wizard of Oz. There’s nothing in that black bag of cures for me- yet if I’ve learned that if I really want happiness, I can find it in my own back yard.

James and I are looking forward to adoption, and hopefully we’ll be able to start the process in the Spring. In these past 10 years, I thought I had done my share of grieving, and it seemed that I had come to peace with my own loss. But, oddly enough, marriage has made me start grieving again. I’m grieving for my husband’s loss. I’m grieving for our loss as a couple. I (and we) need healing and help with this grief. If you are so kind as to participate in this wonderful program with TCIE, please consider praying for our emotional healing and for us to get through this new stage of grief, and for us to have courage and success with adoption, if it is God’s will for us.

Thank you, and God bless.

The Bartender

The Bartender

Today I read a post by Amy at This Cross I Embrace, in which she shared a beautiful email from Rebecca at The Road Home. Rebecca’s email likens infertility to being stranded on an island.

What a perfect analogy.

Infertility is an island. A desert island. A beautiful tropical island with unpredictable storms and hurricanes. Some stay for a while, some stay for a few years. And I’m the permanent resident. I’m the bartender.

Amy is someone who was on the island for many years. I’ve read her blog sporadically since just after she arrived. Watching her come to grips with infertility and learn to give it all to God has been a great comfort to me. Amy’s blog has been a place where I could find someone walking the path with me.

She was here for so long on the island. I never expected her to stay forever, but as time went on, I think I forgot that leaving was even a possibility. I’m happy she has been rescued. It is indeed bittersweet.

Lightening

I’ve been here a while now. Almost a native. I’ve learned to expect the storms. I pour the drinks and listen to people talk about their troubles. They talk about hope, about waiting to be rescued, and wonder when their ship will come. I’m the safe place; I’ll always be here. This is my home.

Here on the island, occasionally ships come and rescue us one at a time. Never a boat for me, but that’s ok. One of the most beautiful things about being the bartender is meeting all the wonderful, beautiful, hurting, victorious souls who come and go.

island sunset