On the Cheerful Side of Things

I see people around me who are genuinely cheerful. They don't say it with their mouths, their eyes tell that story. Cheerful people have a bright countenance. They hold themselves a little higher, they breathe sweeter air, and they lift up the people around them. I feel as if there's a definite line between me and cheerful...or maybe it's a wall. 

The cheerful side is where I want to be.I feel a draw toward it's inviting embrace, but...I have a weight that's too heavy. My heart feels too full of anger and frustration. Some days I feel downright bitter for the losses I've endured. I feel jealous of the people that aren't grateful for their blessings that I would gladly take off their hands. 

Then I hear a song that turns my world upside down and it comes in a moment of greatest need. My heart responds to music. I feel the Spirit of the God most powerfully when it speaks to me through melody. This particular song is the one God intended for me this week:         

 -Laura Story, "Blessings"

And, of course, there's my favorite hymn:

Father, cheer our souls tonight

Lift our burdens, make them light. 

Let thine all-pervading love 

Shine upon us from above.

Calm the surges of the soul;

Bid the dark waves backward roll. 

Let us all thy mercies feel

Thru the power thou dost reveal.

Bless our loved ones far away;

Grant them health and peace, we pray.

In their hearts let holy light

Beam to guide their steps aright.

Let implicit faith and trust

Help us know thy ways are just. 

May thine ever-tender love

    Lead our hearts to thee above.   

----------

I know the cheerful side is not an easy place to get to. I know it takes faith and trust in the Savior, and a lot of patience and prayer. It takes looking on the brighter side of things. For instance: "Yeah, my position at work is being downsized so I'll soon be unemployed, but now I get to spend an unexpected 3 weeks with my family in Utah!" or, "This month of trying failed, but now we get to try to make a baby for a whole 'nother month!" (No sarcasm here, I'm genuinely okay, even happy, about these 'setbacks'). And I get to constantly remind myself that a cheerful countenance doesn't happen overnight. I'm still greiving and am still allowed to have bad days. I just wake up the next morning with a prayer in my heart that today is not one of them and I can keep my chin up and practice getting to the cheerful side!

 

       

The Unfinished Race

    In 7th grade, the Jr. High school counselor asked me what I wanted to do for a career. "Be a mom" was my simple reply. She seemed surprised at my response and didn't really know where to go from there. I remember she wrote, "Domestic Engineer" on my paper and sent me on my way. My mom had been a stay-at-home mom my whole life up until that point. It's not that society looks down on such a career but I guess as a life-long ambition, my counselor was less than impressed. Through the rest of my high school career, I thought I'd definitely go into a career in music. Just like most girls, I had my life mapped out-where I'd go to college, when I'd meet the perfect guy, when I'd graduate and have the perfect job and of course, kids would come into the picture at the perfect time. Don't get me wrong...I love my life. But on days like to day, I can't help but feel let-down.

    Imagine running a race. One of the really long races, like a marathon. Muscles aching, heart pounding, you've trained so long. You've done every excercise, you've practiced for months, you toned your muscles and you feel prepared. Suddenly, 5 miles from the finish line, you stumble. You're aching, and maybe you even gashed your leg open. Every part of your body and soul screams at you to give up. But you look up... everyone on the sidelines is cheering for you...you're family, your friends. Though you want to stop, you feel a gentle push telling you to finish. The next 4 miles are excruciating. Everything hurts worse, and at times, you don't feel you have it in you. People tell you you're strong and you find renewed strength, only to keep stumbling on your way. Finally, with 1 mile left, you see the 25 mile mark and know that you are SO close! You press on with all your might. Everyone in the crowd is cheering for you, telling you how great you're doing and that they are so excited for you. The race is easy again and you know it's going go be okay...

...suddenly, with 20 yards left, and like a rug pulled from underneath you, you fall. A hard fall this time-one that makes finishing the race impossible. That dream you had, that goal you had set flies out the window. The medics are on the scene now, telling you that it's going to be okay. They're gonna get you to the hospital and you'll be fixed up. Is it comforting? You're going to be okay, but you will never finish that race. You'll never take home a medal. People will say, "how did the race go?" and you'll have to hang your head and say, "I didn't finish." When your friends get together and talk about their medals and crossing the finish line, you'll be an outcast. Even though you ran the race and did everything right, you didn't finish. Do you feel sad? mad? empty?

Chances are probably not. Afterall, it's just a stupid race, right? It seems silly to compare my trials to a marathon, but on days like today, I just want someone to understand. I want someone to know how bad my heart is hurting. 

I got through 38 weeks (8 1/2 months) of my pregnancy with Scotlin and suddenly he was gone. My chances of being his mother were ripped from my grasp. I held him for a few hours and then handed his body to a nurse knowing that the next time I would see him would be in a casket. Life was SO DIFFICULT! I ached, I cried, I screamed. I told my story and people surrounded me. They cheered me one and I was lifted up. I got up again and I learned and I grew. I knew I could handle this. So many people prayed for us, and my relationship with my Savior strenghtened. I felt so relieved when Kayden came to us. I knew I'd been blessed and I was looking forward, with renewed hope, at my chance to be a mother. I was so close to that finish line when I fell. I cried again. I screamed at the doctors. I yelled at God, "I cannot do this again!!". Giving Kayden to the nurse was even harder, because I knew I wouldn't see him again. He would be placed in a casket, flown to Utah, taken to Logan where I would see his casket, trying desperately to remember how it felt to hold him.

  I'm not alone, either; so many people experience this loss. Maybe not in the form of infant or pregnancy loss. Maybe it's infertility or sterility. When that's not you, though, it's easy to forget that this type of pain exists. It seems that when 2 or more women get together, labor pains or the hardships of child-rearing are brought up. That's fine. But before you complain, think about the people around you (and the statistics say it's at least 25%) that have experienced a loss and would give anything to be in your shoes: to rock their crying baby to sleep in the middle of the night, or gain 75 pounds and feel sick and miserable during pregnancy. Anything that meant their baby was alive. It makes me want to scream, "WHY ARE YOU COMPLAINING TO ME?!?", "Don't you know I would give ANYTHING to have those things you're so recklessly complaining about?"

And then the guilt sets in, kind of like it is now as I write this post. (wondering if I should even post this, or if I'll regret it later when I get hate mail). I know that it's human to complain. I know that it's easy to feel down when things are overwhelming you. But when that instinct hits, bonk it in the head with a bat and realize how lucky you are to soothe your screaming baby, or clean the mud out of his teeth that he ate when you weren't looking, because you know he's alive and well and you can watch him grow and learn HERE, without hoping that your faith is enough to get you through this life until you get to see him again. 

OK, I'm done...seriously, let the bad vibes roll if it makes you feel better. Just post 'em in the comments...I can handle it. And most of all, if you made it this far, thanks for letting me vent. 

Right?

I can feel really, truly happy for my friends that are pregnant but at the same time be sad that I'm not, right? Well, for any of my friends that read this and either have babies, or are going to soon have babies, please don't think that I have any bad feelings toward you because of this post, because I definitely don't.

I just really really want to be pregnant and have wanted to be for years now. Yes, years, as in multiple. (I know that some who may read this can never get pregnant or never were able to get pregnant, and I'm not comparing my trials to yours...I'm just having kind of a rough day.) I think that for my personal trial, the fact that my son died suddenly, unexplained just before his due date makes not having a baby just a little more difficult than I thought it would be. Honestly, 2 years ago I was so certain that once we waited the 3 months we were told to wait, we would get pregnant right away because Heavenly Father wouldn't want me to keep hurting this bad, and getting pregnant again was the only thing that would help. And oh my, was I wrong. I can't say why I didn't get pregnant for a year and a half. Maybe it was the depression, maybe it was because I only weighed 102 lbs, or maybe it was my crazy 5p-5a full-time work schedule. All I know is that month after month was torture every time I started my period or didn't start my period til day 40 but kept getting negative pregnancy tests. And then we went on vacation.

Just before we moved and after we quit our jobs, we went on a week and a half trip to visit family. The day we were coming home, I realized that I had been feeling really icky for a few days, but it was only in the afternoons and would go away while I slept at night. I suddenly got really hopeful as I discussed my symptoms with Evan. He wanted me to wait, but I just couldn't...I had to get a pregnancy test. Of course it was positive! I knew it was even before I took the test. Steph knew because she went with me to get the test. The next day-back in Utah- I told my parents. I hadn't planned on telling anyone else, but my mom cried as soon as I walked in the door because she knew it was going to be the last time she saw me for awhile, so I figured telling would ease the pain a bit because I knew she'd be so happy.

My mom went on trek that week with the stake, so I wasn't able to call her on Monday when I started bleeding. It was just spotting, and that was normal, right? I wanted to call my sister and ask, but I still didn't want to tell anyone. I looked it up online and that was NO help.

Wednesday: My Birthday: The day we packed the moving truck to move- I miscarried. I had only just found out I was pregnant-5 1/2 weeks. Why did it hurt so bad? Granted, it didn't feel like a knife in my chest like when Scotlin died...but....we had waited so long and finally caught a break. Now this.

So this whole story is probably irrelevant, but I kind of just wanted to put it out there. No one in my day to day interactions knows about this. Most of them don't even know I'm a mother. It hurts. It's hard to be left out of the "mom chatter" because my son isn't running around and playing with the other kids at playgroup. I'm not pregnant (which I swear everything around here revolves around), so I'm kind of just an outcast. And the worst part is: I can't do a single thing about it. I don't really have anything else to say, but I'm gonna post this anyway just so my blogger buddies can see my human side. If you choose to comment, please don't say anything mean, or downplay my feelings...it doesn't help.

(I'm also not proofreading...sorry)