The art project that stopped me in my tracks.

Sometimes things happen to me that stops me in my tracks and I question, "Did that just happen?" ​

​Aiden is currently studying the theme HOME in pre-school. I dropped him off at school this morning and found a project he had completed at school in his cubbie. He was tasked to cut and paste pictures from magazines that represented who lived in his home.

1. Latin mom ✔️

2. Dark haired boy who obviously loves arts and crafts - hence the smock ✔️

3. A white dad (I'm confused why he's holding corn. Maybe Aiden is saluting Josh's Nebraska heritage?)

Aiden's teacher saw me observing the project and asked, "Is there a baby in the home?" Taken aback I answered, "Absolutely not!"  It wasn't until that moment that I even realized there was a cut out of a baby pasted right next to the mother figure. This cut out was huge, how did I miss it?

His teacher went on to explain Aiden was adamant about including a baby, specifically a baby girl, in the picture.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. Is he really understanding the countless stories I've shared with him about his 12 brothers and sisters in heaven? Does he really remember seeing me cry as I wrote my blog post about my daughter, his sister, who would be in kindergarten this year?

I started getting teary-eyed and explained to his teacher that I've experienced many miscarriages and that perhaps Aiden was referring to those babies who are part of our family in heaven.

Then the most beautiful thing happened. Aiden's teacher and I had a short, yet very vulnerable, conversation about loss. She told me about her experience with losing a child in the womb. We began to empathize with one another over the difficulty of the journey. My heart hurt for her. Her heart hurt for me. It was a special moment that I couldn't have created even if I tired. 

I didn't create it, God did. He knew I needed an insight into Aiden's sympathetic mind and He knew the teacher needed an opportunity to reflect and feel supported.  We both needed a moment to dialogue and connect with someone who finds themselves in the world of losing a child.

I got in the car and started weeping. My tears were a mixture of sadness for the teacher but also at amazement in seeing God's work. Proof you can experience JOY in the midst of grief.

Naked in front of the crowd

I use to workout to simmer the anxiety and pain that comes along with infertility. My acupuncturist constantly encouraged me to try writing instead, noting overworking my body was just adding more stress to the instrument I was trying use to get pregnant. I remember thinking, "How could writing words and thoughts offer the same sort of release?"

Fast forward a wee bit, I was unable to workout due to my Menopure cycle, which stimulates the ovaries to produce multiple eggs at once. During this time the ovaries swell and there is possibility of ovarian torsion when overexerting the body. I used all my exertion, which was limited due to side effects of the meds, at work to teach dance. 

I was going nuts without being able to workout, not getting my daily dose of endorphin release. In desperation, I started journaling. With each word on the page, tears started flowing. Interestingly enough, I realized I get a similar dose of endorphin rush after a good cry as I did after a good workout. That's when I started to feel a desire to share my story. Not necessarily for others to know my journey, but for me to release the built up emotions and thoughts that simmer inside and become self-destructive. I recently went back and read my first blog post, and was reminded how scary that first post was to put out there.

Anna Nalick has a song out called 2AM. It was made popular when it was highlighted on an episode of Grey's Anatomy. While it's up for interpretation what the song is about, there is a verse that speaks to me and my vulnerability about blogging. 

“2 AM and I’m still awake, writing a song
If I get it all down on paper, it’s no longer inside of me,
Threatening the life it belongs to
And I feel like I’m naked in front of the crowd
Cause these words are my diary, screaming out loud
And I know that you’ll use them, however you want to”

When I get my thoughts on paper, it's a release vs festering into negative self-talk. Having my words out there, in the blogosphere, not knowing who or when people are reading my vulnerable thoughts, can be scary.

If I'm being honest, a little bit of me thought I would start blogging, share my story... and poof, like magic, I would fall pregnant. Sounds silly, I know, but I guess I was hoping my emotional release would make space for a new life. While this expectation has not been met, something greater has come of it. I've found my voice within the emotional chaos of infertility. It may not always be pretty, but it's real and honest.