I remain unbroken...

When I am left alone with my thoughts, it is very rarely a good thing... Sure I have my moments of clarity and quiet reflection, but often it gives me too much time to dwell on things. The truth is, I feel broken. And what's worse is that I feel that it is my own fault that I am. I worry that my past has made me unable to plan my family. I think about those reckless days of my youth, fraught with eating disorders, no sleep, bad nutrition, OTC drug abuse, and artificial hormones in the form of birth control. Have I destroyed my body?

But really, what use is it to worry about it? I mean, I can't change it, now can I? What is done is done. I have changed a lot. I no longer go out of my way to do things that are bad for me. I mean, yes of course I still eat the wrong things and don't exercise enough, but I don't try to hurt myself. The only thing I can do now is move forward, right? Just set my mind to refusing to make the same mistakes again and again.

In April, I had a secret. I started fertility treatments. (I didn't tell anyone for fear of having to answer a LOT of questions that I didn't want to answer. Namely, having to break the news a thousand times that if it didn't work... That is always so hard on me).  I began seeing a specialist up in Salt Lake City who wanted to start me on an aggressive amount of clomid and a steroid. I had let what I wanted, (a baby) decide for me to go against all that I feared about that drug and trust the doctor. I began taking my medication, and I suffered through the side effects, and went in for my ultrasound, only to find out that the clomid had been tremendously successful and I had TWO eggs that would ovulate that month. My chances looked very very good, the doctor told me. He was so happy that it had worked so well for me. He was very hopeful... and so was I. I left the doctor's office so elated and excited. I knew it would work... and what about TWINS?! What if we got twins? Wouldn't that be amazing?! (And scary)... Honestly, this was the first time I ovulated in over 5 years and I really thought it would just be that easy... I mean, the first time I ovulated when we were trying the first time to get pregnant was when we conceived.

So Mr. Darling and I were sure this was our answer. We were sure I would get pregnant. And then, I started getting symptoms that I was. I was nauseated, I was so tired, I had heartburn (which I never really get except when I am pregnant) and a few other things that I won't mention... We were so excited. And then, I decided to take a test. I took it early, confident that it would be positive. My husband was out of town and I wanted to do something for when he came home... Like make a t-shirt for Z to wear that said "Big Brother" or something. Negative. I was crushed. But I told myself that it was still too early, and I had jumped the gun.

The time came for me to take it (for real this time), but this time I was sure that the negative test had been correct. I took one anyway, this time with my sweetheart right there with me. Negative. I sat and watched my husband (who never really seems too affected by this sort of thing),  openly cry, and say "I was so sure you were" and I lost it. I lost it for a while. I felt cheated and robbed, and well, quite stupid.

I also didn't like how I felt on the medication. I decided that we would give it one more try and if it didn't work then we would stop.

So this month I took it again. But this month, I felt different. I felt much less hopeful... In fact, I felt the opposite of hopeful. I felt like it wasn't going to work at all. Back up to SLC I drove for another ultrasound only to find out that the clomid had stopped working all together. My body wasn't responding to it anymore. I had not produced a single viable egg this month. I was devastated. Again.

I took both of these much harder than I thought I would. I honestly thought I was stronger. I honestly believed that I could remain unaffected if it didn't work. I thought that I had reached a point where I would be okay if it didn't work. And both times I felt like I would break in half it hurt so badly.

Even now, after 4 days have gone by since the ultrasound, I have my moments where I just burst in to tears. It just feels so final.

This morning, I woke up sick. I didn't make it to church, though I think I really could have benefited from it. I looked at the June issue of the Ensign (which is an LDS church distributed magazine) still in the plastic that it was delivered in. I decided to sift through the pages to try and find something to help ease my broken soul. I flipped through the pages and landed on this:

I was sitting on the couch next to Mr. Darling, and he must have heard me gasp because he looked over at me just as I started weeping. He put his hand on my back, and I sobbed, "I was not expecting that." It was an answer to the ache I felt. Just seeing those words on the page brought me more comfort than I can even express.  It was as though the Savior himself grabbed my face between his hands and said, "I know very well what you want. I know very well how you hurt. And I AM HERE."

The article was beautifully written by a woman who suffered with infertility... She eventually went on to have three sons with her husband... It focused mainly on accepting the Lord's time frame in all things. Here is a link to read the article online... Learning to Cope with Infertility By Carolynn R. Spencer

She says some things that really hit close to home, like,
"...I cringed when I listened to women complain about their pregnancies or their children or the responsibilities of mothering. Didn't they realize how blessed they were? Didn't they realize that others longed to be in their shoes? Month after month, and then year after year, Tim and I rode waves of hope, only to feel them come crashing down when our dreams failed to materialize."

Oh how I relate to that statement...

She quoted Elder Neal A. Maxwell (who was an apostle in the LDS church until his death in 2004)
"The issue for us is trusting God enough to trust also His timing. If we can truly believe He has our welfare at heart, may we not let His plans unfold as He thinks best?"

That touched me so deeply. Of course I've known this. I know it's His time, and not mine, but for some reason those words really opened my eyes today.

She also referenced many women from the bible who suffered with infertility, and man did that help me tremendously... She said:

"...From Abraham's wife, Sarah, I learned that miracles do happen, that nothing is 'too hard for the Lord...From Isaac's wife, Rebekah, I learned that if my prayers weren't answered right away, I still needed to keep praying... From Zacharias's wife, Elisabeth, I learned that infertility was not God's punishment for imperfections, weaknesses, or unworthiness to be a mother...I learned from Hannah's despair that it makes no sense to let gratitude for the blessings we do have be crowded out by sorrow over the one thing we lack...From all of these women in the scriptures, I learned that I was not alone in my heartache; other women who had gone before knew just how I felt, and surely there were others surrounding me who knew as well. Most of all, the Savior knew; not only could He comfort me in my burden of sorrow, but He could ease it for me as Isaiah promised: 'Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows.'..."

Talk about a brick to the face.

This article wasn't written by a prophet, or an apostle. This article was written by a woman who knows the pain of infertility. But this was no less prophetic to me... This was a true answer to the desires of my heart. The Lord heard and answered me through this woman's words.

The truth is, I don't know what the future holds for me. What I do know is that I have it in me to be okay with whatever it is. I have the ability in me to enjoy the ride and hope for the best. I also know that I am done with fertility treatments for a while. I don't want to do anything else to my body like that for a long time.

You know what else? I know I'm NOT broken. I might be a little damaged. I have some scars, (emotional, physical and spiritual) but I remain unbroken. 

I remain unbroken.

With Love,
Susan

It's a WONDERFUL life.

Oh my gosh, can you tell that LIFE has happened to me?! I have been pretty much non-existent on all the blogs I manage. So much has happened in the past few months it's hard to catch up. Obviously we have decided to adopt from Ethiopia, and you can read more about that over at our adoption blog. We have had to put our journey on hold somewhat due to some circumstances that are both our doing and not our doing.

We were notified through our adoption agency that the wait times for children in Ethiopia have been extended greatly, (like 3 years) and that made it difficult for us... I took it really hard and went in to a funk where I didn't want to really talk much about it... because I didn't want to cry anymore. But, we then decided to go forward, but not until after the new year.

We completely controlled the next big change. We bought a house! It's our very first home, and it is quirky, and poky, and older, and we couldn't be happier! We love it. But it was a pain in the tooshy to get packed up out of the apartment (in such a short amount of time) where we lived for almost 4 years, AND sell our lease. We were a little freaked out about it. It came down to the wire, but we sold it, and we are now in our house and loving it. Unfortunately we moved during Z's birthday time, and we haven't been able to have a break in the holidays and hustle and bustle to throw him a proper 4 year birthday party, so we are planning for it after the first of the year.

Husband passed all of his tests for his job and is very happy and relieved. We feel more settled and more secure.

I've made some new friends too.

But this post wasn't going to be all about that stuff... I just wanted to catch up. This post is about this week.

We have the tree up, (our first artificial one in our decade together) and have decorated the front window with lights and snowflakes and garland. It feels like Christmas... or it's starting to anyway. My mom is on her way right now to come out and spend the holidays with us. I feel happy.

I will admit though, that part of my heart feels empty, and feels a sort of longing. This is the first Christmas that we will have another son in our hearts. He is across the world, hopefully with his loving family right now, and I ache for him to be here with us. Though I am happy to have my family here with me to celebrate such a special time of year, part of my family is elsewhere, and I feel somehow incomplete this year. But, I can't be sad. I am trying to be grateful and think positively that he is spending this precious time with family who loves him abundantly. I really hope that there is abundant love in his biological family. I hope I hope.

As for us, we have been talking a lot about charity and doing good things to others, and trying to be Christlike. It has helped so much. This year, I couldn't think of a single thing that I REALLY wanted, which, I'll be honest, is USUALLY not a difficult thing for me to do. This year, it just didn't feel right for ME to make a list of things I wanted... because honestly, all I want is to bring our son home... But, I know that isn't possible. I just didn't want this Christmas to surround me with stuff, like all the years passed. I mean, while I appreciate gifts that I receive, I just didn't want to fill my world with more clutter. So, I asked for donations to be made to my two favorite charities. Charity:Water and A Glimmer Of Hope Foundation. Both have concentrated efforts in Ethiopia... and it felt right... and a few days ago I found out that is exactly what I got... and you know what? I couldn't be happier. I have a real sense of finally figuring out what Christmas is all about. Even though I KNOW what it is about. Even though I SAY it's about giving and not getting... this year, I really REALLY understand it, and I feel so much more gratitude this year.

I am really not trying to toot my own horn by saying, "ooh, I gave up my Christmas to charity." I hope so much that I am not coming off in a holier-than-thou way. It is honestly and truly all that I wanted this year.

So, this week, for Family Home Evening Husband decided to talk about having charity and trying to be more Christlike. Honestly, our FHE RARELY is a spiritual one because Z is always ready to go play, so we have a wiggle worm constantly asking if we can be done... so I wasn't sure how it was going to go down this week. But we were surprised times a billion. He was attentive, and listened the whole time, and we actually had a really spiritual FHE that turned out to be pretty remarkable.

Husband started out reading a story by James E. Faust called a PATTERN FOR LOVE. Here is the story:

Years ago, Jack Smith told of a poignant story of two young boys at Christmastime.

“I didn’t question Timmy, age nine, or his seven-year-old brother, Billy, about the brown wrapping paper they passed back and forth between them as we visited each store.

“Every year at Christmastime, our Service Club takes the children from poor families in our town on a personally conducted shopping tour. I was assigned Timmy and Billy, whose father was out of work. After giving them the allotted [U.S.] $4.00 each, we began our trip. At different stores I made suggestions, but always their answer was a solemn shake of the head, no. Finally, I asked, ‘Where would you suggest we look?’

“‘Could we go to a shoe store, Sir?’ answered Timmy. ‘We’d like a pair of shoes for our Daddy so he can go to work.’

“In the shoe store the clerk asked what the boys wanted. Out came the brown paper. ‘We want a pair of work shoes to fit this foot,’ they said. Billy explained that it was a pattern of their Daddy’s foot. They had drawn it while he was asleep in a chair.

“The clerk held the paper against a measuring stick, then walked away. Soon, he came with an open box. ‘Will these do?’ he asked. Timmy and Billy handled the shoes with great eagerness. ‘How much do they cost?’ asked Billy. Then Timmy saw the price on the box. ‘They’re $16.95,’ he said in dismay. ‘We only have $8.00.’

“I looked at the clerk and he cleared his throat. ‘That’s the regular price,’ he said, ‘but they’re on sale; $3.98, today only.’ Then, with shoes happily in hand the boys bought gifts for their mother and two little sisters. Not once did they think of themselves.

“The day after Christmas the boys’ father stopped me on the street. The new shoes were on his feet, gratitude was in his eyes. ‘I just thank Jesus for people who care,’ he said. ‘And I thank Jesus for your two sons,’ I replied. ‘They really taught me more about Christmas in one evening than I had learned in a lifetime.’” ¹

^{After that story, Z was able to retell the story perfectly. We were shocked and excited. OF ALL THE LESSONS WE EVER DO FOR FHE, THIS ONE IS THE ONE I WANT TO SINK IN.} 

^{We then went upstairs and watched two videos on the computer. Here they are:}

 

^{We then sang the song, "Because I have been given much." Here is a video with the song being played and sung. This is one of my very favorite hymns.} 

^{With that, we asked if Z could tell us what we talked about, and he told us everything we would have hoped he would get from the story and the videos we watched... Husband and I both wept with gratitude that of all the lessons we have given that he listened and understood this one. We are overcome with happiness at such a giving and sweet child.} 

^{I just wanted to share that experience. It was a truly spiritual and lovely one.} 

^{Much Love,} 

^Suz

Something you might not know

I have struggled with an eating disorder for a long time now. Some people know about it, but a lot of people do not. It's not something I really talk about. But, maybe I should. I find it embarrassing and humiliating, but maybe others do too, and they are afraid to talk to someone about it and get the help that they need. The truth is, I didn't go to a therapist or doctor to get well. In fact, I don't think I am completely over it. It's still there, like a dark secret locked away in the corners of my mind, but every once in a while it rears its ugly head and makes me feel like a worthless human being. It tells me that I am not good enough. That I am weak. That I am disgusting and that I don't deserve to be happy. It tells me to eat mass quantities, and then tells me to purge or starve myself to make up for my weakness.

It started in 5th grade. I was very unhappy. Our school started year round, and my friends and I were split up between the different tracks, and I started eating. A lot. I ate and ate and ate.

Then in junior high school, my friends from sixth grade were no longer my friends anymore in what happens a lot at that age... people start to think about being "cool" or popular. I wasn't either. I wasn't a rich kid. I wasn't a thin girl, and suddenly became very aware of my looks and when I would look in the mirror I would see a very ugly girl. An ugly girl who would never be loved. An ugly girl who thought about dying a lot. It got worse in 8th grade. I felt worthless. I felt so insecure in every way. I ate. I ate so much that I gained 100 pounds in a year. This, as you might guess did nothing to help my social status or my feelings of inadequacy. I maintained my fat stature until I decided I wasn't going to eat anymore.

My senior year was a time of big change for me. I decided to take control of my life. I had lost some weight from my 8th grade days, and I had made a lot of friends, but I decided to make a lot of changes. I decided to be more positive and to try to make every day the best day. I wanted to be kind to everyone. Perhaps I was finally seeing that I could be a kind, sunny interaction to someone who had been as miserable as I had been for so long. And you know something? It did make me happier. I felt better about being a good person, but I still was overweight and hated that aspect of myself. I took control of that too. Half way through my senior year I stopped eating one day. I had lost my appetite. I didn't want to eat. Then it became a challenge, and I faced it head on. I no longer wanted to eat because I wanted to take control of my weight once and for all. I decided to starve the monster that I had created all those years before, in the hopes that it would go away, and I could emerge different, and somehow better. There were days that I would break down and eat. I would eat an apple or drink a soda... I know. I know. Then there were moments of weakness when the monster would win, and I would binge. And then the guilt would come and I would starve myself again. This time swearing to be stronger... And it got easier. I didn't feel faint anymore. I began to love that empty feeling at the end of the day when I would lie down to sleep. It got to the point where I was unhappy unless I felt that emptiness. It was a hunger of sorts. A hunger to be strong and control something that at times was so out of control... my appetite. The weird thing is, that I felt better and better about myself the longer I would go without eating. That sense of control gave me empowerment. I had a secret that no one knew, and I loved it. No one questioned me about it because I was still overweight. I was losing weight fairly quickly, but instead of the looks of concern, I got praise. I got so much praise, and that only fueled my motivation to continue. I was finally getting attention from boys. I was finally feeling like I was pretty. My confidence soared, but all the while the monster lay in wait. Waiting to pounce. I would go through long bouts (they got longer every time) of starvation, and then binge for an entire weekend, and then the guilt would take over and the feelings of self worth diminished and I would be left a shell again, and my resolve would get stronger to stop eating and deprive myself. And when I would, I felt like I could conquer the world.

By the time I had graduated, it had been about 2 months since I had started this starvation, and I had lost 35 pounds. Over the next 6 months I would lose 35 more. But that feeling of conquering the world didn't last. Instead, depression crept in and my immune system tanked and I got very sick. But all the while people kept praising me for how good I looked. Guys flirted with my constantly, and I loved it, but I always felt like I was covered in a shadow. I had this continual cloud over me, no matter how happy I tried to be on the outside, I was crying on the inside. Worried constantly that I would be found out, and feeling like a failure all the way around the board. I was becoming weak again. I wanted out. I had a room mate who knew my secret, without my telling her, and I was terrified that it would get out to others. I was ashamed.

Over the course of the following two years, I started eating more regularly, but counted calories like crazy, and would only eat once a day. I started gaining weight little by little, and it freaked me out. I had set backs, and would go on starvation binges now and then, but my resolve was thinning. I was tired of fighting the monster.

My battles with weight continue, and even now, sitting here, very overweight, the monster whispers in my ear to eat away my feelings, or just starve myself... just for a little while. I feel my stomach growl and I find myself smiling, but loathing myself at the same time. I realize that I have a food addiction. It all started back in 5th grade when I ate to feel better, and the more I ate the better I felt temporarily. So as long as I stuffed my face full of fattening foods I was happy... until I was made fun of at school... and then it would perpetuate and it became a vicious cycle, culminating in a 130+ weight gain in the span of 3 years.

But my addiction goes deeper. When I starved myself, I was still addicted. There was not a moment where food wasn't on my mind. What I should eat, what I shouldn't, when I would eat, when I wouldn't, bet you I won't eat that even though I want to... Guilt, elation, satisfaction, guilt, elation, satisfaction... over and over and over... until one day, I couldn't do it any more. But food never left my thoughts. It is still very much there even now. I don't think it will ever go away.

I do not starve myself. I don't suffer with anorexia anymore. I don't binge like I did before, though there are times when I do give in even now-to an extent. But I feel like I am winning this battle, even though it doesn't appear to be so from an outsider looking in. I know to others I am just another obese person. Someone who has no self control. Someone who is somehow less. Someone to look at and say, "I'm glad I'm not that big." But, that's okay. Because I have to love myself right? I have to work on me, right? I can't be concerned about what others think about me. Because, I struggle with a very internal, very secret (until now) disorder/addiction. One that has caused me no end of pain and suffering. One that might have caused my infertility issues and my hormone problems. One that still haunts me. I may never be what others think I should be, but that's okay. I need to worry about being healthy, and I am trying, heaven knows I am trying. There are days I win and days I lose, but I have to wake up every morning and keep trying. To hell with the people who look down on me. To hell with those who say I am not good enough. To hell with my own low self esteem. I have to be better. I have to get through this. And I know that if I keep trying as hard as I can, that I CAN beat this. I pray that I beat this.

What's the point in writing this now after all these years? Why now on this blog? I wanted to get it off my chest. I wanted to maybe help someone else out there. You are not alone. So many people battle with this, and it is very hard, and very isolating. Some people, (like me) may not look like they are sick on the outside, because her collarbone doesn't show, and her clothes aren't falling off her body, but she is aching inside. She might not want to be found out, but secretly, maybe she does. Life can be so hard. Why make it harder on someone? I was bullied a lot. A LOT. To the point where I thought about ending my life many times. And I still think about those times and cry. If only someone had known. If only I could have told someone and not felt like a horrible human being. People didn't know how hurt I was on the inside. They didn't know how hard it was to wake up every morning and try to love myself enough not to take 100 ibuprofen just to stop the pain I felt inside. They didn't know. I would like to think that if we could see inside someone else, that we would treat others with more dignity and respect and kindness.

There have been a lot of stories about bullying in the news in the last few months, and I guess this is my own anti-bully plea. Please be careful. Please don't hurt others. Please be kind, even if you hurt inside. Life isn't fair. Life is hard... for everyone. Not everyone is abused in the same way, but everyone needs compassion and love. Everyone needs to feel that they are worth more than what they feel they are worth. You never know what your words will mean to another person, how they can haunt that person for the rest of their life.

Get help if you need it. You don't want to end up a thirty-something adult who still struggles with the demons of her past, and has a hard time some days getting through the muck. Please, if you have an eating disorder, no matter what size you are, get help.

Get help.

With Love,
Suz