A lot has happened in one week and I'm feeling like it's time to share. Not so that I can read everyone's reactions or endure everyone's pitying stares, but rather so that I can feel normal again. As if I even know what normal is.... for goodness sakes, that's scary to say and oh so true. Normal for us lately has been doctors appointments, syringes, needles, ultrasound probes, bedrest, heavy hearts, tears, zombie-like actions, pills, vitamins, gauze pads, alcohol swabs, thousands of dollars, maxed out credit cards, and a lot of nothing that felt normal. Or maybe it did feel normal to us and that's why I feel so out of sorts now. With no meds, no appts, no needles or vials of blood, I don't quite know what to do with myself. Perhaps that's part of the sadness that has settled in around my heart. Perhaps with the lack of those things, I realize just how abnormal our life was becoming. I think back over all that we've been through and I don't know if I can even remember a time when we weren't fighting for our fertility. I'm sad that since we've been married, we have been fighting to have a child and I wonder if that has been good for us. I won't deny that we have grown in our love for one another and I can't dismiss the fact that we are who we are today with the faith that we have today, because of our fight. But I also can't help but wonder, what a normal marriage that's not fighting fertility looks like. What is life without that fight actually like? I'm convinced that if it's not fertility, it's something else that is a struggle, but infertility is such an emotional battle... it's so difficult!

One week ago today, the day before Heath's 40th Birthday, we found out that our first round of IVF was unsuccessful. I won't lie, we felt completely defeated. Even as much as we have learned to try not to get our hopes up, we felt like we hit bottom. I don't remember feeling that way with other failed cycles. Our nurse called us around 3:30. Heath had taken the day off because he wanted to be here when they called. Each hour that passed as we waited felt like an eternity. And each minute that passed, I doubted a little bit more. I knew as soon as the nurse answered that the results were negative. Somehow I realized that if they were positive, she wouldn't have sounded so solemn. I'm pretty sure that's a tough call for them to have to make and it made me sad that she struggled with it. As soon as I hung up Heath and I crumbled into a heap of sobs that I'm pretty sure woke little Aurelia up. Heath was strong. He went down and got her. I love her so much, but it was a difficult hour and a half until her mommy came to get her. She was a reminder of what we may never have. I think all the emotions that had been working up over the month of appts and meds and procedures and what not, finally came crashing down on us. We grieved... it felt/feels like a death in the family. I guess if you want to get technical, it was since the embryos they transferred are considered LIFE. We both wanted to crawl into bed and sleep away the pain and we probably would have, had we not planned to celebrate Heath's b-day with my family at Logan's that night. When we planned the dinner, we had made clear that we reserved the right to not attend, depending on the results of our test. We knew that we would not feel like celebrating if things turned out as they did. I called my mom to let her know we weren't coming and I couldn't hold back the sobs... with a little coaxing from her, we did go to dinner and I cuddled with my nieces and nephews, but my heart was certainly not there. I'm pretty sure I did not taste the food that I was eating. It was important for us to keep moving, try to carry out normal activities, but it was incredibly painful.

We slept good that night. We were mentally and physically and emotionally exhausted from the last month of activity leading up to that day and those results. I gave Heath his b-day present that night because I wanted to cheer him up. I had secretly gotten him the day off work. He later told me, that after Thursday's results, he was going to call in anyway... he just didn't have the energy to put in a day's work. I also let him in on the secret gift/trip I had been planning for months. We were headed to his frst Red Wings game and then we'd stay for the weekend and do whatever struck our fancy. I did not know when I started planning this trip away that it would come on the heels of such devastating news in our baby department, but God did. We didn't come back all refreshed and ready to jump back in the saddle, but we were able to hide away where noone knew what we were sad about and we didn't have to talk about it to anyone besides each other and then only if we decided to. And we didn't really. We said a few passing comments here and there, but for the most part we stared blankly at whatever it was we were watching on TV; we ate, but didn't really taste the food, we enjoyed the heat from the fireplace in our room, but we still felt numb; we pressed on through the days, but couldn't wait till night when we could fall into bed and sleep away the pain. Our one redeeming activity, was the Red Wings game. We had a fun time at the game, forgot about our pain, talked with the season ticket holders next to us, and lost our voices as we cheered the Wings to victory. It was such a blessing.

On Saturday, we headed to Cabela's for a couple of hours. We LOVE that store... even if we don't have any money to spend there. On our way there, we got news that Aunt Lynn had passed away. Apparently when it rains, it pours... isn't that what they say, whoever "they" is.

Sunday, still feeling in a funk, we headed back home, not really ready to face the day or the week ahead. We were still exhausted and just wanted more time for us. More time to process what we'd just been through and the results and where we were headed. More time to avoid having to face all the pitying stares, the hugs, the cliche phrases. We just weren't ready... not yet. God had different plans. Things that were meant to heal even though as they were happening, I kept thinking "what in the world is He thinking?". On our way home from Detroit, we were blessed with an opportunity to spend time with our family at Ada Bible Church for our little nephew Logan's dedication. It is in actuality not really a dedication of the child, but more of the parents to raise their children in a godly loving home that points them to Christ. As we sat in the parking lot waiting for the family to show up, I will admit my nerves were on high alert. I prayed for strength because I knew that going to a child dedication just days after being told we didn't have a child on the way was going to be a pretty difficult place to be. We wouldn't have missed it for the world, but I can seriously tell you I was second guessing the wisdom of us being there. After all, the little room we would be in, would be filled with energy and noises that only children can make. A happy place, for certain, but a realy tough place considering what we had just come through. I am amazed at how God sustains us through these times... when we feel like we could not take one more step, he holds us up, pushes us through the door, and encourages us to keep on keeping on. The phone rang as we waited and it was my sister-in-law. She was calling to see if we were there yet, but more importantly she was calling because they, as the parents of little Logan, were told to choose one person, family or friend, who had been and would be a godly influence on Logan and would impact both them and Logan as they raised him. I was floored, speechless, and in tears as she told me that after talking about it, I was the person they had decided fit the bill. I still don't know why they picked me. Maybe they were feeling sorry for me, but my prayer is that they have seen in me the faith that gives me strength to press through this journey. I pray that the reason they picked me was not because I had no children and it would be nice to let me be that person, but rather because they see the heart that beats in me for Christ and His children. I did not have to do anything fancy at the service, I was merely to be a witness to their dedication to raising Logan in a godly home. The original plan was that Ty, Heather, Logan, and I would gather at a certain time in the program to pray. I was ok with that.. I figured I could handle that, even as I cried to Heath "Why would they choose me?" We actually ended up gathering with the entire Erb and Guernsey families, Heather read a letter that they had written to Logan outlining their commitment to him, and through tears Ty asked me to pray. I know my voice sounded shaky, I broke down when I thanked God for the blessing of that precious little child, but I made it through my prayer.

As difficult as that felt, I know now, that that was God's work in me. A pathway to healing. Just a little piece of encouragement for my day. An understanding kind of came over me during that service... one that hurt, but that was a blessing at the same time. I realized, maybe for the first time, that if I never had a child of my own, I would be ok. If I never had a baby to cuddle to sleep at night or I never had a chance to watch Heath's eyes light up at the sight of his own flesh and blood, I would survive. Because I have the opportunity every day, with the kids I come into contact with, to point them to Christ. A chance to instill in my nieces and nephews and sweet little people God brings into my life, lessons about faith and God's love and provision and His strength even when the road is tough.

It has been one very tough week... I don't think I felt like we came out of that fog and numbness until yesterday. That's not to say we aren't still sad, and we definitely have our moments of tears and doubt, the fog still rolls in every now and then, and we sometimes find ourselves in quite a funk... but that's ok and to be expected. The important thing is that we aren't becoming bitter, we aren't falling into a sinking hole of sadness, we aren't giving up... we are trusting, we are learning to smile again, and we are healing one little moment at a time.