Sub-Fertile will not mean Sub-Joy

I went to the doctor Monday to see why our experience trying to conceive this time has been so much different than our last experience.  Last time it took us 2 tries to get pregnant, which I now have an even great appreciation for how quick this was.

The doctor has referred to me as “sub-fertile” possibly due to the fact that I have hyperthyroidism.  We will be doing tests this month and next to better understand what is going on. 

This may as well be the story of my life. 

In all things I have ever attempted, I have always come out “subpar.”  My soccer team in high school got to the state finals and lost the first round.  Consoling bystanders would offer sentiments like, “Well you should be happy, you made it this far!” 

 

I came up 1 point short of scholarship money for my ACT score, even after taking it three times. “Well, you should be happy, that’s still a great score!”  

My business as an artist has come to a screeching halt after being offered a licensing contract, only because I can’t afford the canvases, materials and shipping costs it would take to get the initial scanning for the catalogues. “Well, you should be happy, you were offered the contract!”  

So my dream of having a large family?  “Well, you should be happy, at least you have one child.”

I’m so tired of, “well you should be happy…”  No one would ever say, “Well you should be happy, you’re subpar!” 

At the same time I think, joy in life is mostly about comparison and it is my choice to decide to be happy or not.  If I compare myself to those close to me who have been the best at absolutely everything they have ever put their mind to, earned plenty of money and on top of all that have been blessed with easy pregnancies and many beautiful children. I will be unhappy.     

If I compare myself to those in Africa who have nothing, who are in war-torn countries just trying to survive, then I will be overwhelmed with the joy in my life. 

In my heart, I KNOW this is what I must do to keep Satan from stealing my joy.  The trick is actually doing what I know I should.  I pray I will not be “subpar” at being joyful.

Mommy Guilt Spelled Out

This blog post spells out exactly what I feel on a daily basis.

Friendly Fire

Snow Globes and Snow Days

There is a snow globe of New York City on our shelf in our living room.  It's next to our TV so I look at it very day.  (Yes.  I love to watch TV). The Chrysler Building, The Empire State Building, St Patrick's Cathedral, The Brooklyn Bridge and The Statue of Liberty are all squished nicely together in the peaceful glass dome.  Sometimes, I shake it and watch the tiny white flakes create a winterscape over the familiar skyline.  My husband is from New York City and when we decided to settle down south, a friend was sweet enough to give it to us for moments of nostalgia. 

When my husband and I were dating, and for the first few years of our marriage, we thought we might eventually move there and join many of our friends.  But then reality of taxes, square footage (or lack thereof) and rent made us look else where to settle down and start a family.

When I start to struggle with the pity party temptation, the snow globe always taunts me.  It's as if it symbolizes dreams that never came to fruition.  I see (thank you facebook) the houses, families, vacations and jobs that my friends have and I think..."what if I had..."; "if only we had..."; "why does everything seem to be so easy for them?"  Friends, (and family) that have seemingly fallen into amazing careers, amazing homes, tried for their babies for only one or two months...never seeming to struggle.  I often wonder, "what choices have I made that have made my life so much more difficult?"  Then I think of one of my favorite quotes from Theodore Roosevelt, "Comparison is the thief of joy." I know this is true.  I have a beautiful, healthy family, a home that is warm in winter and cool in summer, and a job.  Then I look at the snow globe.  I think of all the things I thought I would be able to do at this point in my life: take a vacation, go out to eat or get a Starbucks without feeling guilty, buy a second pair of jeans, save for my son's college, save...period.  But here I am, 30 next month, my baby is not a baby anymore and wants a sibling to play with, and I can't get myself a Starbucks or a sibling for my son.

Friday we got out of school for a snow day (with a grand total of 0.04" of snow that was gone by noon--thank you southern schools!).  The snow seemed to cover all the anxiety of the last week: my 10th negative pregnancy test, the car accident, the unexpected traffic fines, dreams that are not.  I was able to play in the snow with my son and forget about everything, like for once we were inside that peaceful snow globe.  Slowly, reality settles back in, like the snow melting outside.  But I have to fight the pity party that will surely follow...

"Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done."  Philippians 4:5-7