Have Yourself a Snarky Little Christmas (Card)

'Tis the season for Christmas cards. Around this time of year, we go to the mailbox and find it stuffed, not just with a gazillion flyers for things we probably don't need, but also with cards. Our mantles and fridges are decorated with images of angels and reindeer and bells, covered with red, green, and gold, and bedecked with photos of families in their holiday best, smiling in a meadow or in front of a Christmas tree. Doesn't it put a smile to your face?

It doesn't. Not to me anyway.

You might wonder why I am such a Grinch? People take time out of their busy lives and pay for postage just to wish me a happy holidays, and here I am, tossing their handiwork in the recycling bin. Am I just a horrible person who hates children and families and the true meaning of Christmas?

I've posted in the past about how difficult holidays, and especially Christmas, are to me in my infertility journey. There seems to be a societal consensus that Christmas is for the kids, that we're supposed to find the magic in watching our little ones open their gifts from Santa and experience the joys of the season. All of the radio and television ads are about children. They feature happy families putting up a tree. We all know that Christmas is about families, and those of us without children - who may never have a little one to spoil in the name of Santa - well, we can just sit back and watch everyone else share the magic.

It's no secret that this year has been extremely difficult in many ways. There were joyful moments, like when I graduated and our brief holiday in Spain, but overall, 2016 has been a hard year. Our infertility treatment failed. Our cat died. I suffered anxiety and depression. I feel like have been mired in sorrow, fighting so hard just to get one foot in from of the other while I am up to my knees in the mud and muck of loss and grief.

One of the saddest parts of this journey has been the lack of support from loved ones. When you lose a family member or get sick, people rally around you. They bring casseroles and send flowers. This has been one of the most profound grief experiences of my life, but no one sent flowers or brought around food. Very few people have acknowledged it at all. Many of our friends have faded quietly out of our life, unable to face us in our sorrow. It hurts.

So what does this have to do with Christmas cards? Well, everything. This time of year, the cards come in. People who never acknowledged our pain, who never sent so much as a two-line email telling us how sad they are for our situation, are now sending us cards with their adorable children. Maybe they think this is helpful and their way of sending love, but when you've been silent during my grief, a photograph of your happy family makes me feel like you're rubbing it in my face that you have a family and I don't. It doesn't say "I love you" to me; it says "LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN." If you haven't reached a hand down to help pull me out of the pit, then I don't want your family on my fridge. I don't have time for superficial friendships any more. I want to invest in the people who will invest in me in return. I want to spend my time and emotional effort with people who will make me feel loved and supported in my darkest days.

This Christmas, maybe I am the Grinch. I'm okay with that. I've been asking myself the hard questions this year, like why do I bother sending cards anyway? Is it out of habit, or because I truly love these people, and if so, how am I prepared to invest in those relationships in the coming year? I ask you, too, to think before you send that card. What are you trying to say with it? Is this person going through a hard time, and have you reached out at all? How are you investing in that friendship in other ways, or is it just a once-a-year, Christmas-card relationship?  Let's not just do things because we think we should. Let's make gestures that are meaningful instead.

Merry Christmas. This year, let's love harder and better.

For the Love of Sadie

This past week was bittersweet. There were some ups: I graduated from my Master's program on Thursday and got to celebrate with friends and family, but a day before, my sweet cat Sadie passed away.

Sadie was my roommate's cat. I moved in with Dana in early 2006. She had a cat, and I had a cat. Somehow, when she left, I had both kitties "temporarily". That was nine years ago!

Sadie and Scout

She was a quirky little feline. She had the most delicate bones and features of any cat I've had. She was extremely skittish and afraid of men. When I started dating Gil, she would hide every time he came by. He didn't believe that I actually had two cats. She gradually got curious, and would sneakily try to check him out. In my old condo, the kitchen and living room were at street level, while the bedrooms were downstairs. We would be sitting on the couch talking or watching TV, and she would stand on the stairs and poke her little head up like a periscope, scoping out the situation but able to run away at the first sight of danger. The only male that she never seemed wary of was my mom's partner Brian. Somehow she loved him from the get-go.

Sadie taught me things about myself, and about love. She had a weird habit of sticking her butt in your face if you were patting her. This made it difficult to cuddle with her and have anything in your hands. I remember one time, she was walking all over me and sticking her bum in the air, and I blurted out, "Why don't you just let me love you?!" It made me think about how easy it is to love those who do what we want them to do, but the nature of real love is selfless, loving others even when we don't understand them or their motivations or they drive us crazy. I'm so blessed to be loved by people even when I am not always the most lovable.

Hiding in a box, as one does

Some people might say that she was only a cat, and I guess that's true. In the past few years, however, she was just what I needed. Sure, she didn't speak or understand my situation. But because she didn't speak, she couldn't say things like, "Sure you're infertile, but at least you get to sleep in on weekends" or "Don't you know that parenting is hard?" She didn't understand, so when I was weeping about my infertility and she walked away, I knew it wasn't personal and she wasn't choosing not to care. She never made me feel like I couldn't be sad over my infertility unless I'd exhausted every single option, or like I had to justify my infertility decisions before I could get any sympathy. Unlike people, she never snubbed me or ignored my pain any more than a cat does naturally. Unlike people, she loved me for who I was. She didn't say anything, but her presence was more than enough. So she was just a cat, but sometimes that made her the best friend I could have had in this messy, ugly, lonely ride through infertility. She was just a cat, but she was my cat, and I will miss her terribly.

I love you, Sadie Lady.

Infertility Chat: Don't Be the Feelings Police

I've been thinking a lot about my infertility situation lately. Maybe it's because I'm finished school (woohoo!) and not working yet, so I have more time in which to really contemplate the past few years. At any rate, today's post is about something I wish more people could grasp, not only in the infertility world, but in any situation where someone else is having a difficult time.

Feelings. They're a big mess, honestly. Sometimes they make no sense at all. Why can't we just be like robots? Sometimes we're faced with our own emotions, and we're sitting there going, "What are you doing brain? Why am I feeling this way?" because we can't even make sense of our own emotional reaction. Other times, we're trying to help someone, but their feelings are so deep and scary and weird to us that we're tempted to jump in and say things like, "Calm down" or "You need to be hopeful" or "You should be excited about X". It might even seem like saying these things are helpful, because you're directing that person to be more positive, but you know what, it's time to check these phrases, and here's why.

1. Policing a person's feelings tells them their emotions are wrong. You may not mean it like that, but that is how it is experienced. I struggle daily with my feelings of sadness, bitterness, and anger. I hate that these emotions surface again and again with regards to my infertility. If I tell someone that my infertility is making me angry and bitter, and they tell me to be hopeful instead, I feel like that little voice in the back of my head is validated, the voice that says I'm weak and that if I were a stronger and better person, I wouldn't be so angry. And now, instead of being hopeful, I'm wallowing in shame.

2. Correcting a person's feelings does not encourage them to keep sharing. I've talked about my infertility to a lot of people. Some of them have been helpful; others have not. When I go out of my comfort zone to open up about a deeply personal subject, the reaction of the other person is pivotal. If that person listens and mourns with me, I feel like I have found a cog in my support network. If - as often happens - the person shuts the conversation down or corrects me, the message that I get is that I need to keep these emotions to myself because no one wants to hear them. Sooooo many infertile women feel like they have no outlet to share, and it's so unhealthy for us.

3. You are only seeing a slice of their grief. It may seem to YOU that this struggle is not worthy of the bitter sadness that they are experiencing, but you don't know. You haven't walked in their shoes. Often, when I share with my mom friends, I realize that they have no idea the levels of grief that I experience as an infertile person. It's not just the disappointment that comes month after month. It's not just wanting something I can't have. There are so many ways in which our society and especially our churches are structured around the assumption that women are mothers. There are so many other griefs that come with infertility: Isolation and social exclusion; marital struggles; finances; the loss of dreams; questioning the life decisions you made when you assumed you would be parents. It's hard, and you don't truly know all the reasons your friend is sad, so when you encourage her to perk up, you are invalidating things you may not understand. And on that note, please do not say, "At least you're not...." to a person struggling with infertility. Yes, it could be worse, but the pain they are in is genuine grief, and it's okay to express that.

4. You may be bringing bad theology into the mix. People love to throw lines into the conversation like, "You should be hopeful. I know God will give you a child." Do you? Really? Did you have an angelic visitation that you didn't tell me about? I've read the Bible many times, and there is no guarantee that we will get everything we want. As far as I can see, there are plenty of people in the Bible who served God and lived lives of difficulty and unmet needs. So YES we can have hope in heaven, but don't tell people to place their hope into something God has never promised us. I can say honestly that I have less of a struggle with the idea that God may never grant my desires than I do with Christians who try to encourage me with bad theology and false promises instead of coming alongside me to really go deep into the spirituality of suffering.

Soooooo, where do we go from here? What should you say if your friend is expressing feelings that are deep and heavy and you don't know how to respond. Here are a few thoughts on responding to your infertile friend, but I still think the heart of it all is just to listen and say, "I love you and I'm sorry you're going through this pain." You don't need to make her feel better (though in my experience, ice cream is never a bad idea :D ). If she's angry at God, you don't need to jump in; God can take it. You just need to be there and care.

Infertility Chat: Practical Ways to Support Your Infertile Friend

Infertility. It's hard. As I talk to people about infertility with people who have not experienced it firsthand, I hear the same thing again and again. "I just don't know how to relate. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to help. I'm so afraid to say or do the wrong thing that I do nothing."And I get it. I don't know how to help others sometimes. I feel like every word that I say is the wrong thing. On the other hand, when we get paralyzed with fear and decide not to speak at all, our friends get the message that their pain is unnoticed, that their sorrow is not shared. I think that many who have not gone through this journey feel helpless. They feel like they can't open the door because it makes their friend sad or because they're not qualified. But you know what, YOU ARE. You are qualified to speak *because* you are a friend, *because* you love this person. So if you're looking for some practical tips that don't involve becoming someone's personal psychotherapist, here are a few thoughts. These are mostly geared towards female friends, because I'm a female and I'm writing from my own experience.

Start the conversation. It's okay to say "I don't know what to say": It's okay that you don't have the right words, but saying that you want to say something is huge and meaningful and shows that you care. Once someone has opened up to you, it can be hard to know how to bring the subject up again without prying, but it's important. Often, I've opened up to someone and it was awkward. If they don't bring it up again, I figure that it was uncomfortable and I should never mention it again, so my friend never has the chance to say what she maybe wished she'd said the first time. I would suggest saying something like, "I know you shared earlier about your struggles to have a family. How are you doing, like *really* doing?" Then you allow your friend to share if she wants to, but the focus is on *her* not on the infertility.

Listen: This applies to pretty much every situation. Most people in a hard time just want someone to listen to them without judgment or advice.

Ask if there are some ways you can be helpful: Then you don't have to guess. It is highly unlikely that they will ask for the moon, but you are showing that you value them and their choices.

Remember her due date: I've never had a miscarriage, but I have heard this from many friends who have. After the miscarriage, some people are sympathetic, but then they forget. Meanwhile, the woman is walking toward a day that was supposed to mean life, and now represents death to her. If your close friend has had a miscarriage, write that day in your calendar or set an e-reminder, and give them a short note on that day or the week before knowing she's in your thoughts.

If you know the name of a child that was lost, use the name: Some couples do not choose not to share the name of their unborn child (or do not give a name), but if a woman shares the name with you, remember it.

Remember her on Mother's Day: It doesn't have to be a lengthy tome. Just a short email saying, "Hey, I know this day is hard for you. Just letting you know I'm thinking of you." It took me less than a minute to type that sentence, but it could touch someone more than you know. Mother's Day is hands' down the hardest day of the year for me, and when someone remembers that, it moves me more than you can imagine.

Be her wing-woman at gatherings: In my *cough cough* wilder days, if I went to a club with a bunch of girlfriends, we had each other's back. If it looked like a creepy dude was getting too close to Susie, one of us would swoop in and make sure she was okay. That's being a wing-woman, and you can totally do this at baby showers, kids' birthday parties, etc. If you see Nosy Nelly swooping in to ask your friend if it isn't high time she had her own baby, jump right in and change the subject. If your infertile friend has been dragged into a convo about baby poop for 10 minutes and you can tell she wants to get up off the couch, be the one to pipe in and ask who has been watching Fuller House, or ask her to help you with the punch to give her an excuse to exit gracefully. Yes, your friend can do this for herself, but some of us are shy *raises hand* and even if you're not, it's always nice to feel like someone really understands that you're in a rough spot.

If you're thinking of her and/or praying for her, tell her: Often we have a friend in a tough spot, and we think about her often and remember in our prayers, but then forget to actually touch base. I've had it happen where I reached out to update someone and was told, "I think about you all the time." Except I hadn't heard from this person in months. I had assumed s/he had forgotten all about me and my struggles. No one knows that you care unless you tell them. Again, this can be done in a two-sentence email. [Note: I know that some non-believers are uncomfortable with being told they are in your prayers, so only say this if you know the person will appreciate it; otherwise, it's perfectly cool to just say she's in your thoughts.]

Celebrate her life: Often, milestones related to children are celebrated, while our own personal ones are ignored. In fact, we women should be celebrating *all* that we accomplish, not just made to feel like our uteruses (uteri?) are the only important part of us. It makes me sad that I speak several languages, have just completed a second Master's degree, and take part in a fabulous practicum project, yet most people only seem to care whether or not I have children. That's all they ask about. It leads me to feel like my whole life is a failure when actually I'm successful in other areas. Don't get me wrong: Being a good mom is a great accomplishment, but it's not the only accomplishment out there.

Offer to drive her to appointments: Only if you have time, of course, and she might not say yes, but at least this says that you want to practically care for her.

Food: I mean, we all have to eat, right? Infertility treatment can be incredibly draining. It is not uncommon for women undergoing IVF to be exhausted and not feel up to cooking. In addition, shuttling back and forth to extra doctor's appointments can take over your life and make it harder to do all of your regular errands, like grocery shopping. If you know your friend is starting IVF, bringing over a couple of freezer meals that the couple can eat if they don't feel like cooking, or a gift card for take-out could be really helpful.

Organize a girls night: One where you laugh and watch movies and eat junk. If there are mostly moms there, make a point of talking about a variety of things, not only kids. Kids are great. Other things are great too. Balanced conversation is key.

Ask if she want to hold your baby; don't just hand the baby to her: Some infertile women have trouble being around young babies, because it's a constant reminder of what they may not have. Other women who have had miscarriages find it difficult to be around babies born around the time of their due date. It is too close of a reminder of the baby that they will never hold in their arms. Personally, I have no issue being around babies, but it never hurts to ask someone before you hoist your child into their hands.

Remember that infertility is grief: You may not understand it, but your friend is grieving a dream, a child or children that she imagined she would have. Grief takes a thousand different ways to manifest itself, and it may not always make sense to an outsider, but it is very, very real. Think about a grief you have experienced or you can imagine, and the myriad of ways that that grief can show up in your life. Now remember that infertile people are grieving too, and even though you may not understand every trigger, what you *can* do is hug her and tell her you are sorry she is going through this.

Advocating for the Infertile: Are Infertile People "Oversensitive"?

I've noticed something lately. I'm not sure if it's isolated, or a trend, or what. On the one hand, I've noticed people trying to be honest and speak up about infertility, miscarriage, and child loss. On the other hand, I've noticed some of these postings and honest confessions meet a host of negativity, criticism, and accusations of "oversensitivity". "You're just sensitive" is something thrown around a lot, often in ways that simply leave a bad taste in one's mouth, and frankly, it seems to be used on the Internet a lot as a way to say, "I see your opinion, but I'm going to ignore it and keep doing this anyway."

I've definitely seen this attitude as a response to infertility. From posts noting that fake pregnancy announcements can be hurtful to addressing the church's handling of Mother's Day, for every two people that find these helpful, there seems to be at least one nay-sayer. Paraphrased comments seem to say lots of the following:

• The world does not revolve around you.
• You should stop being jealous and celebrate those around you.
• Should we stop posting about birthdays because it isn't someone else's birthday.*
• You should get off social media / not go to church if it hurts.

So, am I just oversensitive, and should I just 'get over it'? Well, the answer is YES, I'm sensitive. I don't like the term "oversensitive", as it implies that there is some kind of a scale that determines who is allowed to be upset by events, and to what degree, but I will admit to being sensitive. Sorry guys, but I am. In fact, we all are. When we go through a crisis, it affects the way we view our lives and others. Prolonged infertility is a personal crisis and a constant grieving process. There is not a moment of the day when my infertility and longing to become a mother are not somewhere in the back of my consciousness. It's ridiculous to ask me to put those feelings in a box and not be affected by them, just as it's ridiculous to ask that a person undergoing a health crisis should just "forget about it" for a while. So how should I deal with this, and how should my loved ones and my church?

Those going through infertility need to recognize their sensitivity... and be okay with it: Accepting that it's okay to be sad has been very difficult for me. It's so easy to feel guilty about it, because shouldn't I be glad about my loving husband, my wonderful house, my collection of quirky but loveable family members and friends? It's taken a long time to be understand that I can be happy about those things, but at the same time profoundly sad for something that is devastating to me. That said, it is my responsibility to manage my sensitivity. That may mean that I avoid occasions where I know I can't keep it together. It may mean doing what I can to deal with my emotions, whether that is therapy or exercise or binge-watching crappy television. I need to be the first person to take care of myself, and I also need to understand that people WILL say things that hurt, often unknowingly, and to learn how to deal with it without punching them in the face.

No, really. Try not to slap people. (Source: Here)

Those with friends who are / may be going through infertility need to recognize their friends' sensitivity... and deal with it: Why? Because that's what friends do. We've ALL got stuff we're sensitive about. It may be our parents, our bodies, our health, our food issues, our weird phobias, etc. You may think these are legitimate concerns, or you may think they're ridiculous, but if you want to be friends with that person, you accept that s/he has flaws, sensitivities, and quirks, and you decide to deal with it. Some of these sensitivities may be temporary, like a job loss, and some may be lifelong struggles. You can choose to drop your friends because they don't make enough money to have the same lifestyle as you, or you can choose to go to a restaurant where the prices are lower. (Yes, shameless Friends reference.) You can choose to have vegetarian dishes available when your non-meat eating friends come for dinner, because even if *you* have no interest in giving up meat, you value these friends enough to cater to their decisions. Likewise, you can choose to say your infertile friend can suck it up if she doesn't like your "hilarious" April fool's day prank,** or you can handle pregnancy and children with sensitivity (note that I say sensitivity, not that you stop talking about it at all). This applies in person and on social media. Like it or not, we have people on our friends list going through a myriad of personal issues, some of which we know about, and others we do not. We don't have to censor ourselves constantly, but it behooves us all to stop and think about what we post from time to time. I myself frequently think of something that sounds hilarious at the moment, only to realize a few minutes later that it's actually mean-spirited or bratty or just plain not that funny.

More than anything, I think we need to give grace to the "sensitive". You know what they say about walking a mile in someone's shoes. Who's to say that it won't be you next who has a deep personal issue that causes you to well up with tears or want to hide from the world? If we walk around with the attitude that anyone who doesn't like what we say can just suck it up, we may end up with a lot of pride, but not a lot of friends.

ETA: I'm linking this post up with Amateur Nester's Tuesday link-up. Check out her post and some other great blogs as well.


*I think this is a pretty ridiculous argument. First of all, we ALL have birthdays, whereas we are not all able to become parents. It might be John's birthday today and not mine, but at some point it will be my birthday and not John's. Also, I've never known a church to ask all people with a birthday to stand and be celebrated. It will be Mother's Day once a year, but I've yet to see Hallmark have a "Let's celebrate and love women (and men) who contribute yet are not parents" day...

**Does anyone actually think fake pregnancy announcements are hilarious? Even before infertility, I found them pretty lame. What's fun about getting people excited, and then telling them you're lying?

Rest in Peace, Blaire

On Sunday morning, I woke up expecting a packed day. I worked on a project for school, went to church, stopped by the mall to take out money from the bank machine, and ended up the day at my friend's house watching the Oscars. I had no idea that the day would take a turn in the saddest possible way.

I found out late Sunday evening that my friend Blaire had passed away. She was 35 months pregnant and the mother of a three-year-old girl. She suffered a sudden heart attack at age 27. Her unborn son died with her.

There are no words for this kind of a loss. All griefs are hard, of course, but when my grandparents passed, at least we could remember their long lives. This one hit like a sucker punch. I am sad that I will never see her outspoken political posts on Facebook again, or chat about life's insignificant details like Oscar fashion or what kind of milk we buy. I am sad for her husband, as he grieves these terrible losses and tries to keep it together for his young daughter. I am sad for Rowan, who will grow up without a mother. I am sad.

Blaire was a tireless advocate for progressive politics. She longed for a day when everyone had access to adequate medical care and education. She adored her daughter. She loved Disney. She was Blaire, and I loved her for the person she was.

This loss has put so much into perspective. All the trials of this week - which included papers, presentations, and a broken furnace - seem a little less daunting in the light of such a loss. I've been holding Gil a little tighter each night. I've realized that although I want to be a mother more than anything, I don't want to waste my days dwelling on what is not. I want to live. For Blaire.

RIP Blaire and baby Cassius

A few of Blaire's friends and I have put together a Go Fund Me page to help her husband with funeral expenses, as well as to save for Rowan's education. If you're interested in donating, the page is here:
http://www.gofundme.com/emersonfamily

Infertility Chat: The Trouble with Miracle Stories

As an infertile woman, I've heard my share of weird comments meant to be encouraging. And I get that it's hard to know what to say. I really do. There are some responses, however, that I find really difficult, so I'm addressing one of them right now: The miracle story.

If you've been dealing with infertility for a while, and even if you haven't, you've probably encountered this. You share your struggle, how hard has been for you, the ups and downs. The person responds with something like, "You know, my cousin's best friend was infertile. They tried for years and the doctors told them there was nothing more they could do, so they gave up. Then after eight years, they got pregnant and have a beautiful daughter. That could be you!"

Sounds encouraging right? Why wouldn't this help you in your dark time? Am I just over-sensitive for hating this kind of response?  Let's break it down.

Firstly, we have no idea what was wrong in this case. Years ago, my pastor was diagnosed with cancer, and I remember his wife saying once, "I get so tired of the cancer stories. Everyone has a cancer story to share." The reason behind her frustration was that every cancer is different. Every person's experience is different. It's not really encouraging to hear about so-and-so's great aunt's recovery from breast cancer when your loved one has bladder cancer. They aren't the same thing at all. There are so many differing variables. Telling me that someone who had unspecified fertility problems was able to conceive is not helpful if we don't have the same diagnosis.

Sarah and Abraham:* Just because they had a miracle child doesn't mean I will...

Secondly, and this probably sounds both selfish and superstitious, there are only so many miracle stories. A few people do experience amazing conceptions long after they'd given up hope, but most couples don't. Impossible conception stories are the exception rather than the rule. I think you get to a point where you hear about someone else's miracle makes you irrationally think that there is one less miracle open to you. Yes, it makes no sense, but if infertility does one thing, it is to make you crazy.

Thirdly, and this is the most important point, you have to listen to the words in that story. Read "eight years", "nothing more they could do" and "they gave up" again and again. If you haven't been through infertility, you might breeze past those phrases. I myself have told these kinds of stories in the past as a testament to the fact that miracles exist, but I don't do it any more. When you have been in the throes of fertility treatments and had to confront the question of how far to go, you cannot hear "they gave up" without understanding the tremendous grief that it takes to get to that point. To give up on your dream of being a parent is a heartbreaking tragedy. Yes, it's amazing if you eventually conceive later on, but don't ever breeze over the part that the journey must have been agonizing. If this is my story, I will of course rejoice in a miracle pregnancy, but I can't read it now without feeling deep sorrow for the couple that had to go through the terrible grief of abandoning all hope. Even if they eventually had their miracle baby, I can't imagine they will ever lose the wounds of that time of their life.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying there is no place for these stories. I'm not saying that I'm not at times encouraged when couples who have been trying a long time get to hold their baby in their arms. And of course, I'm one person and I don't represent ALL people dealing with infertility. What I am saying, though, is to use those stories sparingly, and to think about how they may be received before throwing them out in conversation. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: The best thing to say to your infertile friend is "I'm sorry you're going through this, and I'll be there for you any time."

Infertility humour*

PS I'm linking up this week with Amateur Nester's infertility link-up. So excited to get connected to others in this fight.

*Source: http://www.pinterest.com/pin/82472236899285630/


*Image found at: https://dailybibleguide.wordpress.com/2014/03/15/isaiah-511-8/ 

The Lord Giveth and the Lord Taketh Away

It's been a heavy week. Aside from my hectic last week of school, which involved a flurry of exams and papers, I lost someone dear to me. One of my oldest and closest friends J lost her father to cancer last Saturday. Until last spring, he was a health enthusiast who did yoga and cycled regularly; we all expected him to live as long as his own father, who only passed away within the past two years. I have known Mr. C since I was three years old. He was one of the kindest men I have ever known. He welcomed everyone with open arms. He always made you laugh. He had a dozen funny nicknames for everyone, calling me Margaretta and even Margot Fonteyn (a reference that was lost on my seven-year-old self). I will miss him dearly.

The funeral for Mr. C was yesterday, a beautiful tribute to his generous spirit and the love and admiration that so many people had for him. My best friend came into town (she and I were university roommates with J) and we cried on each other's shoulders while a soloist sang Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah". It was a beautiful and heartbreaking day.

If I'm being honest (and why not), this year has been awful, just plain awful. It started on January 1 with the worst flu that Gil and I had had in years and it seems to have gone downhill since then. 12 months later later and we are still no closer to having a child and it feels like a constant cycle of grief: Grief for the baby we may never have, grief for the relationship that Gil and I shared before infertility took over our lives, grief for a man whose life was taken so soon.

While we were walking to church from my mother's house, we passed a long-time neighbour whose own wife lost her fight with early-onset Alzheimer's just over a year ago. Then last night, a high school friend posted on Facebook that his mother is probably in her last days. These are heavy days indeed. I knew that one day we would move into that stage of life when we have to watch our parents decline, but I had always thought that would be decades away.

As a Christian, if I'm being honest, I don't know where God is in all of this. I want to be that smiley-faced woman full of faith that His path is the right one and His timing is perfect, but the truth is that right now, His path feels rocky and arduous, and I don't know where it leads. I'm not saying that I will walk away and take a new path, just that I feel like the best I can muster right now is, in the words of Cohen, "a cold and a broken Hallelujah." I pray it is enough.

Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.
1 Corinthians 4:16-18

Please help out a friend!

I seem to blog only about two things these days: Books and infertility... but not books about infertility.  Maybe I should start that at some point.  Anyhow, I digress.

This isn't a post about my infertility, but it's related.  Today my friend Kristen made a Go Fund Me account to help raise money for infertility treatments and/or adoption.  She's an awesome lady who inspires me with her faith and sense of humour throughout this difficult and stressful process.  If you happen to have some cash on hand that you feel like being generous with, or just want to forward her link to a friend, please feel free to check out her site http://www.gofundme.com/8zujdc.

How happy I will be when she's a mom!

If you're not interested, stick around and come back Tuesday for your regularly scheduled programming. :)

ETA:  Oh, hey, this was my 200th post!  Cool beans.

Top Ten Books About Friendship

It's Tuesday again (where does the time go?) and over at The Broke and the Bookish, the topic is Top Ten Books About Friendship.  Here's my list:  

1.  The Wednesday Sisters by Meg Waite Clayton:  This book is about five young married women who meet in the early 1960s and form a deep friendship.  There were some annoying aspects to the book, but I loved seeing how their friendship developed over time and how the characters supported one another.

2.  Me Before You by Jojo Moyes:  A book about developing relationship between Will, rendered paraplegic by a terrible accident, and Louise, hired as a caregiver.  This book left me in a weepy mess.

3.  Attachments by Rainbow Rowell:  There is a love aspect of the story, but I absolutely loved the back-and-forth emails between Beth and Jennifer.  It made me miss my own best friend, because when we worked at the same place, we might have sent quite a few non-work-related emails ourselves...

4.  Half-Blood Blues by Esi Edugyan:  I really liked this book, which deals with a group of jazz musicians during World War II.  It showed the complicated friendships of the men, who are of different ethnicities (German, Jewish, African American), and the impact that the friendship, and then betrayal of the friendship, had on Sid's life.

5.  Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery:  Anne and Diana, kindred spirits forever!  I love how Anne finally finds the bosom friend she has always longed for.

6.  Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck:  The close relationship between George and Lennie.  It's rare to see books that focus on male friendships, and this one is a classic.

7.  Little Women by Louisa May Alcott:  Of course, they're sisters, but Meg, Jo, Beth, and Amy are friends too.  This book is why growing, up, I always wished for a bunch of sisters.

8.  The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng:  The unlikely friendship between a Chinese woman, the only survivor of a WWII Japanese war camp, and a Japanese gardener.

9.  The Baby-Sitters Club series by Ann M. Martin:  I can't help myself!  I loved these books growing up.  I was a bit disappointed that turning 13 didn't exactly render me as grown-up as it seemed it would from the books, and that I never developed a group of friends as tight as Kristy, Mary Anne, Claudia, Stacey, Dawn, Mallory, and Jessie. :)

10.  MWF Seeking BFF by Rachel Bertsche:  Not a novel, but a book about friendship itself, and one woman's search for a new best friend when she moves to Chicago.  I loved the snippets of research on what makes friendships work, as well as the reminder that close friends don't always just drop out of the sky; sometimes you have to go looking for them.

On How Fertility Issues Feel Like A Trip Back to Middle School

When I was in Grade 8, it seemed like all the “cool” girls were good at basketball. Maybe they had other things in common, like crimped hair (this was 1993 after all), names that started with K, and houses on the same street. Whatever it was that united the cool girls, I didn't have it and I probably never would.

I've always been a pretty determined person. When I wanted to do something or learn a new skill, I pushed myself until I accomplished it. When I felt shyness was holding me back socially, I practiced social skills. I lived in Germany when I was 21, where I chose to attend a class called “Russian for Historians”, which involved translating sentences from Russian (my fourth language) into German (my third). The first class was so difficult for me that afterwards I went into the ladies room and cried... but I didn't drop the class. I'm not trying to brag, just to explain my personality. Sometimes this intensity has been off-putting to others, but it's gotten me where I am.

None of this determination could help when I was 13 years old, an age when popularity seemed almost randomly distributed, and trying too hard was social suicide. I could watch Beverly Hills, 90210 (duh, why wouldn't you? Luke Perry was so dreamy) or beg for new clothes, but that didn't keep me from not being invited from the end of year graduation party. (True story.)

My life has been pretty good since Grade 8, so why rehash these bad memories? In some ways, the journey of trying to conceive has made me think of the Middle School popularity scene. You can try so hard, and get nothing out of it, or you can get lucky on your first month. Sure, there are ways to better your chances, such as eating well, exercising, temperature taking, and using ovulation kits, but the truth is that infertility is kind of a crap shoot. You can do everything right and never get pregnant, while some other woman smokes, drinks heavily, has no idea about her cycle, and has six kids. There's an unfairness to it all, that makes as much sense as me spending years hiding in the bathrooms during recess because my name starts with M and I lack the hand-eye coordination to do a lay-up.

I've also discovered that having no children makes me more and more of an anomaly the further I get into my 30s. This has increased the sense of being left out. I can't hang out at playgrounds to make new friends (at least not without looking like a creep). I can't commiserate on the stresses of finding a daycare or potty training. I see so many blog posts and articles shared online with tag lines like “Parents of kids will get this”. Sometimes reading my Facebook feed feels a bit like when kids in school would tell inside jokes, then say things like, “Oh, you wouldn't get it if you weren't at Kristi's house that time.” I knew a guy all through school who became a night club promoter and posts daily about his obsession with Beyonce Knowles. I read his FB feed when I need to feel like I'm not the only irresponsible non-parent in my age group. That's not to knock my friends who share these things; it's just that being 33 and childless makes me feel more and more like I'm among the stragglers waiting to be picked in gym class, hoping and praying that I won't be chosen last.

The worst part of the equation is the sense of being alone. You know know instinctively when you're being bullied at school that the worst thing you can do is cry. You have to pretend to be strong and not care. Struggling with infertility is a constant walk of pretending to have it together. No one wants to hear about your menstrual cycles and timing issues. You're afraid to share because of the dreaded “advice” that well-meaning people dole out,* and the knowledge that after you've opened your mouth, this person will watch you for signs of pregnancy and you might spend the next months, or possibly years, having to say, “Not yet” again and again.

This is a walk in which it can get hard to see if anyone listens or cares, and even of God is there for you. I'm not saying He's not. I am a Christian and I hold tight to that faith, but there are days when I feel more alone than I've ever felt before. If this is you, please don't suffer alone. You don't have to eat lunch in the girls' room. You don't have to cry alone at night and think no one can hear. If this is you, please email me at mrsdoctordear2 AT gmail.com.  The truth is, I'm not alone either.  I have some fantastic online friends that I've bonded with throughout this process, and who keep me sane on days when I am on the precipice of losing it altogether.

And if you are a parent who has never struggled with this issue, remember your a childless friends and be mindful of this divide. You may not know they are struggling. Post some cat videos online one in a while to give a respite from the baby talk. Let them in on your pregnancy and parenting struggles, but listen to their concerns too. Be there for them. It's a long and lonely road sometimes.

*I have found this article extremely helpful in covering the etiquette around infertility.

In Praise of the Internet

This week I fell in love with the Internet all over again.  Now I know the Internet has some drawbacks:  It makes it easier for criminals and terrorists to cooperate, facilitates the sharing of illicit material, is a huge temptation for time-wasting, etc.  But there are is at least one amazing up-side to the Internet, as I've re-discovered this week, and that's....

...CONNECTION

It's no secret that I have taken a while to make new friends and feel connected since moving here.  It's starting to get better, and now that I'm serving regularly and meeting new people, I feel like the day is breaking, so to speak.  Still, there are some areas that are lacking and that's where the Internet is rocking my socks.

The first area of lack has been missing my Ottawa friends.  While there is no substitute for being in someone's actual presence, I have to admit that I love Facebook as the best alternative.  Facebook gets a lot of criticism for allowing people to be lazy and rely on posted updates to see what friends are up to rather than actual contact, and it's true that sometimes you need to sift through a lot of cheesy memes and online gaming updates that you'd rather ignore.  (Except cute cat photos and hilarious dance videos.  Keep those coming!)  Phone calls are great when you can find a good time, but I love being able to check FB and see what my friends' kids are doing these days, and who is sick and which friend had a nice vacation.  It makes me feel like I see some of their day-to-day life, rather than just getting the highlights in an email now and then.  So friends, if you ever think no one wants to see one more update or photo of your child, I do.  (Unless it involves graphic descriptions of bodily functions.  Sorry.)

The second area of lack has been in connecting with women like me. Jumping into a medical life has been challenging, and it's not a coincidence that since I got connected with a medical wives group on Facebook and started reading similarly-themed blogs, I've felt a sense of relief.  There are people out there who get it.  This life is hard sometimes, but we can support each other so we can all get through it.  I was really hesitant to be vulnerable and post my struggles for the Medical Monday link-up, but the responses I've received to Monday's post have really touched me.  I exchanged a few emails with Amber from The Unconventional Doctor's Wife that really encouraged me.  Feeling connected in this way really changed my perspective over the past few days.

 Of course, I still need to be mindful of my screen time and of getting so invested online that I neglect friends "off-line", but today I'm just grateful for these means of connection.  Thanks to everyone who commented this week and took part in the link-up, and thanks to my friends from all over who keep me in the loop!

On Knowing Yourself

Do you know your love language?  I've just started reading the Five Love Languages for my marriage reading series, and in preparation took a Love Languages quiz.  Hands-down my top language is "quality time", with "words of affirmation" in second place.  I already suspected this, but it's nice to see it officially.

This got me thinking about my moods lately.  Last week I was feeling low, but the past few days my attitude seems that my attitude has done a 180.  I was attributing this to the feeling of spring in the air, but then when I looked back at the last seven days, a theme came out.  This past week, I've started planning a visit with great friends, gone on a retreat with my youth group, and met up with a new friend.  So actually, I suspect that my mood has improved because I'm "feeling the love" from several sources and looking forward to some quality time with friends next weekend.



Of course, love languages are only one way to get to know your own personality and preferences.  We recently did tests at work to find our strengths, and I helped a friend fill out a Meyers-Briggs personality test, so took the liberty of trying it on myself too.  (I'm an INTJ, in case you're interested.)

As a psychologist's daughter, I was brought up with the idea that knowing oneself is about being able to identify your own needs, strengths, and weakness.  It's helpful to be able to tell Gil that doing X makes me feel loved, or to realize that a certain situation will be difficult for me because of my personality, so I'll have to be more prayerful and mindful of my attitude in the process.  On the other hand, we have to balance being self-aware with being self-absorbed.  We live in a world of all different personality types and love languages, so we can't expect everyone around us to cater to our own needs or preferences.  In fact, as Christians, we should be seeking to go out of our comfort zone in order to meet others at their needs.  (Tim Challies says this much better than I can in this entry.)

What about you?  Have you tried personality inventories, strength finders, etc., and have you found them helpful?  How do you balance your distinct personality and preferences with the call to serve and share the gospel in all situations?

On How Making Friends Is Kind Of Like Dating

"So, there's this woman around my age that I see around church.  She's always friendly and in our brief conversations, it seems like we have some things in common.  Can I ask her to go for coffee with me, or I seem creepy?"

If you read the above sentence with no context, you'd think it was a guy hoping to go out on a date with this lady, right?  Except it's not.  It's about me.  And no, I'm not trying to get myself a girlfriend!  The hard truth is that after a year living here, I'm still finding it hard to make friends. Now that I work at our church, there are a lot more people that I'm friendly with, and colleagues that I like talking to, but no one who I could call out of the blue or with whom I hang out outside of the church.  I didn't even realize this until a friend of mine was in town last weekend and said she wished she could attend our church with us to meet my friends.  My first reaction was, "Oh, I don't have friends."  And then I realized that was true.

In my "old life" in Ottawa, it seemed like I didn't have to put in a lot of effort to make friends.  I was involved with several ministries and served on missions trips, so I just naturally met people and got close to them.  Here in Toronto, however, I try to stay home in the evening to have time with my husband, and that's meant that my main interaction is with the retired crowd at prayer meeting.  They are lovely and inspiring ladies, but I crave friendships with people closer to my age too.

I'm coming to realize that it's time for me to be a little more active in forming friendships.  Those "let's all go for wings after fellowship" nights are probably less likely to happen now that people my age have spouses and kids (and, speaking for myself, lower energy levels), but that just means I may have to go a little out of my comfort zone to make friends.

So that brings me to my first question:  Is it creepy to ask this woman out to coffee??  Any suggestions or advice?

A Great Day

Last Sunday was a great day.  Our church was having a ministry fair after both services that morning.  As I mentioned last week, I've started serving with the youth ministry, so I volunteered to help at the youth display.  Gil was on-call, so he was out of the house super-early anyway.  Helping out was fun, and I got to know our youth pastor and some other volunteers a bit better.

After the second service, I ran into someone I know from prayer group.  We are among the only younger ladies who attend.  She mentioned that she would be going to a potluck lunch and she had wanted to invite me, but did not have my number or phone number.  I got the information and drove out to the potluck.  It was a fun afternoon, with some games and just chatting with new people.  I left a bit early to head home before a family birthday dinner that evening.

Why am I telling you all these boring details?  Why was this such a great day?  It's not like the potluck games were the most fun I'd ever played, or the ministry fair was amazing.  The great thing about Sunday was that for the first time in nearly a year, it felt a bit like my Ottawa life.  It felt as though I was part of the church rather than someone who just shows up on Sundays.  It felt like I was making friends rather than just shaking hands with strangers at the service.  I love Gil, and I love my life with him, but it felt like I finally had a Toronto life outside of my marriage, and that felt soooo good.

Interestingly, this past week at my Bible study, we were talking about Genesis 2.  One of the leader's comments was something like, "Can we trust God to put the right relationship in our life at the right time?"  The immediate context was, of course, Adam and Eve, but it is so applicable in other areas of life as well.  It felt like I waited a looooooong time for my husband to come into the picture, but when he did, he was worth the wait.  Likewise, I feel like I've been waiting a long time to make friends at our church, but I have faith that God has been using this lonely time in my life to develop me.  Can't wait to see what He does in these new friendships over the next stage of my life!

I Looked and Found a Good Friend

I think I've mentioned before that I'm currently taking Mandarin classes twice a week. In our first month or so, we learned a song that goes like this:

找，找，找朋友 (zhao, zhao, zhao pengyou)

找到一个好朋友 (zhao dao yi ge hao pengyou)

It means: “I look, look, look for a friend; I look and find a good friend.” Actually, I thought my teacher had made it up until I heard it recently on a song of Chinese children's songs. Enjoy it here with some awesome karaoke:

Anyway, I digress as usual, but this seemed a fitting song today. I've been feeling lonely lately. I miss my friends. I was finding myself reading a TON of blogs by other women, many of whom I had never met. It seemed like I was obsessed with this, and could spend hours reading other women's stories. Finally, I realized that this was an attempt to fill my loneliness with virtual friends, and it's probably not so healthy... As I mentioned in in my last post, I know it will take some time to form deeper friendships here in Toronto, but in the meantime, I crave connection sometimes.

Enter my old friend... the telephone. Today I called up my former roommate Dana, a woman whom I love so much and who was such an encouragement to me in my Christian walk. We actually had been emailing back and forth regarding some practical, but this afternoon I decided it would be better to actually hear her voice. We talked for TWO HOURS. I didn't even realize until then how much I missed this kind of connection. It felt like old times, when we were living together and would be in deep conversation, stopping at intervals to say, “We should really go to bed,” only to talk for another 30 minutes. We talked about marriage, friends, children, cats, baby names (even though neither of us are pregnant, FYI). It was just what I needed. Thanks to God for good Christian girlfriends!

PS You can see more of the Chinese children's album that I bought here.  These kids are so cute!!