That’s who I am

Did you happen to see the new show, Red Band Society, which premiered last Wednesday?  For lack of anything better to watch I saw bits and pieces of it.  It is about a group of young people dealing with terrible illnesses (cancer, failing hearts, eating disorders) on the pediatric floor of a Los Angeles hospital. 

I can’t imagine that this show will last more than one season, if that.  How long can you keep the same characters as patients?  After all, hospitals kick you out just as fast as they can. 

Two of the characters, Leo and Jordi, are fighting cancer.  Leo has had a leg amputated and Jordi is facing the same operation.  As the day of the procedure nears, Jordi is understandably apprehensive.  He wonders what it will be like to live without part of his body.  He wonders what he will be like.

In probably the best line of the show, Leo tells him “Your body isn't you. Your soul is you and they can never cut into your soul.”

The line hit home in a personal way.  I am infertile.  That statement is often used as a definition rather than a descriptor.  But it is not who I am, it is just a little bit about my body.  Nothing more, nothing less.  What I do with it, how I react to it, that’s who I am.

AMDG

Waiting Well Weekend

Waiting Well 2014

A weekend of Faith, Friendship and Fun

 

For women dealing with IF/subfertility or anyone who feels

like they struggle in their vocation, like they are still waiting.

May 16 – 18, 2014

 

Oglebay Resort & Conference Center

Wheeling, WV

 

Weekend Schedule
Friday, May 16th
Arrival (the cabin becomes available at 4pm)
Light dinner

Saturday , May 17th
Breakfast
Talk 1 – “Waiting Well – What the heck does that mean?”

Talk 2 – TBD**
Lunch
Resort activities – zoo, putt putt, paddle boats, spa, pool, hiking
Mass*
Dinner

Sunday, May 18th
Mass*
Breakfast
Departure

 

* Time of Mass has not been confirmed and will depend on the Father’s availability.
** Please forward any suggestions for a second talk.

 

Cost includes two nights cabin stay, meals and one day pass for resort activities (excluding the Spa).

 

Cost: $130.00 per person
Registration and $50 deposit ASAP 
(Balance due by May 1, 2014)  

Questions?  Email me here.

But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.

--Romans 8:25

AMDG

What I missed on Mother’s Day

There was much talk last week about Mother’s Day and what we infertiles are missing out on. It seems that there’s a deep seated longing that, unfulfilled, is felt much more deeply this one day of the year. It honors in a big and obvious way what we want to be.

Perhaps I missed something like this:

Had we had a honeymoon baby, our son (I’ve always pictured our first child as a boy) would be approaching his 14th birthday this summer. He would be the oldest of a brood of rugrats that would messy up my kitchen making me a wonderful, albeit burnt, breakfast in bed. After “cleaning up” the kitchen we would head off to mass and then to the park to run around and burn off some energy. We would then head home, dirty, tired and happy, to cook dogs and burgers on the grill.

It’s a nice daydream. But, as you know, it’s not my life.

Here’s some of what I didn’t miss this Mother’s Day:

A wonderful and relaxing dinner at our house with the lots of family around.

Receiving a beautiful miniature rose plant from my aunt. It was a nice reminder of her sister, my mom, Rose, and all the love with which she showered us. I think she raised us well. She would have so loved her grandbaby!

Watching that grandbaby, my niece and Goddaughter, crawl around the house and be fascinated by half-filled water bottles. Watching her face light up when she sees Uncle Himself. Her giggles and babbling are such a delight!

Watching my sister grow as a mother. She waited a long time to meet the man who was to become her husband. She had a bit of a wait to become a mother as well. It’s such a joy to see the way Sara looks at and for her mommy.  

Knowing how much Himself loves me, regardless of the number of children I was or wasn’t able to give him. He helped make this Mother’s Day special as it was my first as a Godmother. The beautiful ring that adorns my right hand now is a great reminder of that!

Reading your stories and posts. Rejoicing with positive test results, birth announcements, adoption placements. Praying with you when the news isn’t so good. And seeing the wisdom you share that I never knew was possible.  

I suppose I am at an age where I have come to terms with our childlessness. It took a while to get there. I’ve cried through more Mother’s Day masses than I care to admit.

I know there are things I missed this Mother’s Day. But there was certainly a lot I didn’t!


AMDG

And then there were none

** I found this post that I wrote back in May of last year.  I thought I had published it, but apparently not.  Just a little food for thought.

A week or two ago, when I started out on my morning walk with Jack, a robin came shrieking out of the bushes that are in front of our house.  Looking to see what caused the ruckus, I discovered her nest with four little blue eggs.  A day or two later I peeked in to see how they were doing and got treated to this little fellow looking to be fed.

At the end of the week I figured more, if not all, the eggs should have hatched.  I went armed with my camera, expecting mama robin to fly away in a rage.  Instead, all was quiet.  And I found this, a sadly empty nest.

Even in nature, mamas, this time robins, are reminded that babies are sometimes denied.

I wonder where that mama robin went.  Is she making another nest, perhaps somewhere safer and more secure?  Or did she just give up and move on?

AMDG

What if?

I took my last vacation day of the year today and it was wonderful to have a long weekend.   Saturday and Sunday were filled with visiting family and friends and decorating the house.   Today we planned on finishing up some errands for Christmas. 

Himself suggested that before we hit the stores we stop in at church for adoration.   It was a good, no, great, idea.  If you know me, sitting still and quiet is not something I am particularly good at.  Never have been, probably never will be.

Given the horrific events of Friday morning in Connecticut, it was much needed to just be and sit in the presence of our Lord. 

While I prayed for you and your future children, another thought came to me.  Perhaps in His plan, IF has been a gift God has given some of us.  We will never know the heartbreak of losing a child in such a unimaginable manner.  We won’t wonder just how terrified they were at that moment. 

What if we are not capable of enduring such devastating pain?

What if the denial of something we want so much, children to call our own, is actually a gift?

Just a thought.

AMDG

The hormone guide

I told Himself that his best bet is to combine both the "Safest" and "Ultra Safe" columns.  Then everyone is sure to be happy.

Happy wife, happy life!

AMDG

IF: Now What?

I figured today was a great day to wrap up this series.  It is the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, who was my saint for this last year.  Also, it is my second blog anniversary.  Given that I started this blog in hopes of letting you know that you can find truth, beauty and goodness even without the patter of little feet in your home.

I wish I could tell you that one day, overnight, it just all magically gets easier.  It doesn’t and you know that. 

It can and will get more tolerable.    I hope I haven’t been too glib in saying that and in all of these posts.  I never meant to be.  The trip to acceptance is winding and long and full of setbacks.  It is definitely not a straight line process; it’s not moving only forward and never backwards. 

I don’t even remember what I had in mind when I started this series, I just know that I deviated somewhat from whatever it was.  I had hoped to help, to let you know you can deal with it all, and come out fairly unscathed.  But, I think I ended up somewhere I didn’t expect.

I learned something.  Or, at least I figured out that I learned a lot in the last decade and a half.

There are something things about IF that still hurt, just maybe not as much.

IF doesn’t define me.

The sound of  a baby crying still breaks my heart.

The smiles and giggles of a baby still melt my heart.

I am stronger than I give myself credit for.

I am weaker than I want to admit.

I am not alone. 

I have many prayers for you, dear ladies.

I pray that your desire to become mothers is realized, either by conceiving or adopting.

I pray that you find peace and healing – of mind, body and soul.

I pray that if you don’t become a mother, you will be okay with that.

And, I pray that you know you are not alone.

AMDG

IF: Does it get easier?

Read part four here.

Yes.

And no.

It may be reluctant acceptance.  This is my life.  Deal with it.  It might be blessed grace.  This is my life, the one God gave me.  Or it’s time or age or sheer exhaustion. 

But, dealing with IF does become easier.  At some point it is no longer all consuming, the first thing on your mind in the morning and the last at night.  The sharp pain of not being able to get pregnant is gone or at least replaced by a dull ache.

Every once in a while, when you least expect it, the doubts and pain rear its ugly head.  For me, it was a couple of months ago.

A while back I mentioned that while my aunt and uncle were visiting, we were going to watch baby Sara for a day.  I had the day planned and pictured it in my mind.  We were going to pick her up early that morning before my brother-in-law left for work.  We’d go home and I would make breakfast for us all and then Himself and I would take Sara to our favorite art show.   Afterwards, we would come home, she’d take a nap and I’d get the lasagna ready for our family dinner that night. 

It sounded like a great day.  I’m a pretty good aunt and Sara is an easy baby.  I was stoked.

Then reality set in.  My visiting aunt fed Sara her morning bottle while I fixed breakfast.  As we ate, the fussing started.  Then the wailing.  Poor baby had a tummy ache of the worst kind.  There didn’t seem to be much we could do to comfort her.  We walked and bobbed and swayed.  We patted her back.  We laid her down.  And picked her up again.  Her belly rumbled and gurgled.

An hour and a half, a bout of projectile vomiting and a messy, messy diaper later she was a little better.  Our plans to go to the art show flew out the window.  As I sat at my computer with a whimpering baby on my lap, my tears came.    I fired off the email below to Himself. 

Himself assured me that wasn't the case.  I still didn't know all of Sara's likes and dislikes yet and once I did things would get better.

 

Another day, a couple of weeks later, it hit me again, though not nearly with such vengeance.  I was driving to work one morning and had to wait for the school bus that was picking up the middle school kids in the neighborhood.  I looked at them and thought our kids should be getting on that bus.  Had we had kids when we were newly married they would have been about that age.

But, and this is key, those times become fewer and fewer.  If tears come from a PG announcement, they are tears of joy. 

Attending, or even throwing, a baby shower not only becomes easier, it is what it is - a joyful celebration of a new life entering this world.  It's no longer a reminder of what isn't.

The cries of a newborn tug at your heart because you want to fix what is wrong for that little child not because it's not yours. 

Somehow, some way, it does get easier.  Sometimes it just doesn't seem like it will.

AMDG

IF: When to ‘quit’

Read part three here.

So, you’ve been actively been trying to conceive for how long?  Two years?  Five? Ten?  Just when is it time to throw in the towel?

You have been charting.  You’ve had the month long visits to Vampira, mistress of blood draws.  Perhaps a surgery or two is in your medical records as well as any number of prescriptions.  You figure POAS is a waste of both time and money. 

How do you draw a line in the sand and say enough is enough?

Well, ladies, the answer is difficult and it is not.

You quit when trying takes something more from you than it should – your sanity, your faith, true intimacy with your husband, your ability to see anything good in life other than conceiving.

It does not mean you are not open to life.  Hardly.  Things in the bedroom can go back to being fun and spontaneous, not calculated and planned. 

It does not mean you are selfish.  Nope.

It does not mean you must not have wanted it badly enough.  Never. 

It does not mean you are lazy.  Uh huh.

It does not mean you would have been a bad mother.  No way.  No child would have been wanted more.

It just means that living as two is okay; that you will be fine as you are.  Life can be not just tolerable, but true and good and beautiful. 

AMDG

IF: Surviving 2

Read part 2 here

Learn your body.  I assumed that since my cycle was regular, every twenty-eight days like clockwork, everything was good.  Having had severe PMS, since almost the onset of menses as a teen, seemed normal to me.  So did TEBB.  My regular OB saw no problems with those.  Only later did I find out that those are symptoms of hormonal issues.  Creighton opened my eyes to how my cycle actually works.

Find a doctor with whom you are comfortable.  The first time I met with my Creighton trained ObGyn, he spoke to me as if I knew what I was talking about.  He explained things if I didn’t understand, but he didn’t talk down to me.  The was a great gift and blessing.  He is a two hour drive away and I still go to see him as my regular ObGyn. 

Advocate for yourself.  I cannot stress this one enough.  And it is not just for fertility related issues.  You need to be your biggest advocate for all your health concerns.  If you feel something is not right follow up, push, and question until you get answers.  If your doctor does not take you seriously, find another doctor!  It is your body. 

Diet and exercise are simple actions that can sometimes have a big effect on fertility.  Taking vitamins and/or supplements sometimes helps as well.  Learn what you can do and what is out of your hands.

IF can be very isolating.  It seems like we're surrounded by growing families everywhere we look.   When I found the Yahoo Catholic infertility group, it was as if someone threw me a lifeline.  Other people, other women, understood.  They were a sholder to cry on and someone to encourage the next step and provide the kick in the pants when needed.  They were there to rejoice in the BFP and offer condolences and prayers for the BFN. 

The Yahoo group led me to one blog, then another and another.  They have become a virtual support group.   It helps to be tied in and connected to people who have a clue.  And that help is two-fold.  The first is all of the above emotional and prayer support.  The other is that in helping someone else, whether by prayer, words of encouragement, recommendations, etc., we forget a little of our own troubles.  We become less the center of our own little universe and part of the bigger community around us.


Next time: Knowing when to 'quit'

AMDG

IF: Surviving

Read part 1 here.

I can't run.  I can't hide.  This is my life.  I've got to deal with it.

How? Dear Lord, how?

When Himself and I got married we both wanted “a lot” of children, at least four or five.  We both grew up in small families, me with just one sister and Himself an only child.  I even had names picked out for the first couple.  A boy would be Samuel or Daniel with Himself as the middle name.  The first girl would be called Victoria Rose, for his grandmother and my mother. 

I could picture them.  They would all have Himself’s beautiful blue/green/hazel eyes.  Boys would be blond like him and girls would be brunette like me.  They would have great smiles and be quick to giggle.  Of course they would have their father’s brains and patience.  From me they would be crafty and would like to make and build things.

Nice fantasy, huh?

Besides being disappointed that the family plans aren’t developing as expected, or at least as hoped for, there is a sense of brokenness.  Both of those, the disappointment and the brokenness, can take its toll on both the individual and the marriage.   

I think the first thing to living through IF is knowing your priorities.  Yes, we wanted to have children, but we wanted our marriage, our faith and our sanity all to remain intact and uncompromised more.  Without those, what would we have to give to our children?    We had seen families and marriages where that didn’t occur and the view was not pretty.  We didn’t want to go down that road.  Not at all.

With that in mind, it helped us set our limits.  We would not do IVF.  It did not fit in with our faith.  That was a nonnegotiable.  When the “fertility specialist” suggested we start injectibles, he wanted us to consider “selective reduction” if a high order pregnancy occurred.  Huh?  Get pregnant and then kill my babies??  Are you nuts?  So  we walked away from that treatment.  Compromising our beliefs just wasn’t an option.

We also respected each other’s comfort zone.  If one of us was at ease doing X and Y but the other only could handle X, we did just X.   

A number of years after we were married, Himself’s aunt was in town visiting from California.  She paid us a great compliment.  She told us to her it seemed that we lived life to the fullest.  We continued to do things we enjoyed or found important.  We volunteered at church.  We had season tickets to our favorite baseball team.  We saw plays and traveled.  We read books that we loved so much.  Weekly we met with our prayer group to recite the rosary.  Himself played golf regularly with his buddies.  I had my season pass to Cedar Point.  We took walks in the park. 

We kept on living.  We didn’t put something off just in case I got pregnant.  Run that race.  Take that trip.  Decorate that room.  Heck, if a baby comes along you’ll get to decorate it again.  What fun!  Keep on living. 

There’s still more to say.  Tune in next time.

AMDG

IF: Who me???

So, you get married, and, as we Catholics like to say, are open to life.  As newlyweds the bedroom is a happening place. Heck, so is the living room, basement, shower, back seat of the Buick, wherever.  Babies should just be arriving one after the other.

No?  Why not?

Six months go by.  Then a year.  You start getting the questions.

Are you guys planning on having a family?

How many children do you want?

When are you going to give me a grandbaby? or a cousin, or a niece/nephew, playmate, or you fill in the blank?

Each question is like a little dagger, reminding you that what you want so much isn’t happening.

So, at your next “annual”, you mention it to your doctor.  If you are like I was, you figure the doctor knows everything.  He’ll fix me.  Time to try some drugs.  Clomid sounds good.  Three months of that should do the trick.  It won’t be paid for by your medical insurance, of course.  But wait, aren’t they supposed to pay to fix what’s broken???  Not in this case.  And, add insult to injury, no BFP. 

Little do you know at this point, this is just the beginning.  There are specialists to see, new vocabulary to learn, and oh so many procedures to endure.  

This wasn’t the plan.  A honeymoon baby was. 

Wait!  Stop this ride!  I want off.

I just want a baby.  Is that so much to ask?

Apparently, it is.

Unfortunately, we have joined a club we want no part of.  We have a label we never imagined would be assigned to us.

Infertile.

That word looks awfully ugly there.  It's stark and blunt.  It hurts.

Boy how it hurts.

Is there something wrong with me, God, that you don't want me to be a mother??  And Himself?  He would be so awesome as a dad.  I've seen him with babies and he is patient and kind and loving and caring.  Why?

It is very isolating, almost by definition.  I will never be with child.  We will always be a couple, not a family in the traditional sense. 

There are reminders everywhere.  Friends are expecting their second, third, or even sixth child.  You get invited to another baby shower.  Advertisements for diapers on TV have been known to make you weep and the Mother's Day blessing at church makes you bawl like the baby you want.

I can't run.  I can't hide.  This is my life.  I've got to deal with it.

How? Dear Lord, how?

I'll tell you next time. 

AMDG

IF - The series, at least from my perspective

When I started this blog almost two years ago I was inspired to write by all the women who were still waiting for their miracle to occur.  I wanted to let them know, even if that miracle never happened or was delayed, life could still be true, good and beautiful. 

I have been reading so many angst^* filled posts lately.  IF tends to eat away at your self-confidence, and, perhaps especially for Catholic women, your purpose for being.  We were taught and want to be fruitful and multiply; to have good Catholic families; to raise future nuns, priests and saints.  When we cannot, we often feel like failures.

I wasn't able to come up with good, quick comments for many of the heart wrenching posts I have read so much of.  I am slow to put into words what I inherently know to be right and true.  So, I have decided to do my own little IF series, my reflections on what I have learned through our IF journey.    These are a few of the topics I am thinking of writing about. 

Throwing in the towel/waiving the white flag
Regrets??
What have I learned

If you have any others you think I should cover, I am always open to suggestions.


^* I debated about using this word, as lately it has been so often used as a derogative.  (i.e. teen-aged angst)  But when I looked up the definition, it is most appropriate and hardly a putdown.

AMDG

Life on Hold?

I remember way back when, when we were hoping and trying to have babies, how life seemed to be lived in two week increments – CD1 to peak to waiting, hoping for that BFP.  It often times seemed like life was on hold. I didn’t want to get a season pass to the local amusement park,  just in case.  I didn’t want to commit to vacation plans,  just in case.  I wouldn’t drink that glass of wine or beer, you’ve got it,  just in case.

Somewhere along the line I figured out that if I kept living life like that I was going to be missing a whole lot of it.  And if that BFP didn’t ever happen, and it didn’t, where would I be?  Probably wishing I had done things differently.  So we did.  We chose to live life boldly and appreciate the here and now.

What reminded me of this is the mess a of room that is our dining room, now “storage room”,  that currently holds all the displaced living room furniture.  Lamps and tables and boxes clutter the floor and make the room unusable for the time being.

It was so tempting to put off having company until the decorating was complete.  The house is a mess, don’t come over.  Had we did that, though, we would have missed an awesome visit with my cousins who were visiting from Florida.  We would have not had potato pancakes and fresh kilbasa with my in-laws.  We would still be waiting to catch up with friends.

We keep plugging away at the decorating.  I have been working on the curtains and we just found out that the carpeting will be installed tomorrow.  We’ll still have pictures to print and frame.  And I want to sew some new pillows for the couch and it will take a while.  But heck if I’m putting the rest of life on hold!

AMDG

Kids?

I recently ran into someone at this new job that I had worked with many years ago.  I had left that employer just after meeting my husband but before we were married.  Of course, in playing catch up, the inevitable question “Kids?” came up. 

I think I’m going to get some goats so I can say yes – Billy and Nanny.

And, no, I’m not kidding!

Who would I have been?

This blog was inspired by all the women I see who are dealing with the pain of being infertile.  It seems just as being Catholic, or a wife, a daughter, a friend, an employee, etc. defines us, our inability to conceive somehow does as well.

But while most of you are at the beginning or somewhere in the middle of this journey, I'm at the other end.  Being in my late 40s I know I am not going to get pregnant.  I'm not going to be a mom. 

I've said it before and I'll say it again, I okay with that.  Now.  I've come to terms with it and know it's not what God had planned for me.

But that doesn't mean I don't think about it.  Himself and I were talking about it the other day.  Had we had children, who would we be today?

I doubt we'd have our youthful good looks. ;-)  I'd probably would have a few, okay, a lot more gray hairs and Himself would probably have less, hair that is. 

Would I be gentle and patient like Michelle Duggar?  Or would I be loud and snappish like Kate Gossling?  How strict would I be?  How afraid of the world and the big scary things out there would I be?  Or would I be more appreciative of God's gifts and graces?

Makes me wonder.

Sweet Dreams

The night my mom died my cousin, D, had a dream in which my mom appeared.  She was glowing, happy, beautiful.  At the time she had the dream, D didn't know mom was gone.  We both like to think that mom came to D to let her know that she was okay now.

A month or so ago I had a dream in which my mom appeared with a young boy, about 11 or 12, named Jonas, and a baby girl named Evelyn.  It was brief.  I saw them together looking happy and peaceful.  Jonas looked protective and proud of the baby.  It made me smile.  In my dream it was my mom with her two grandchildren - my son and my sister's daughter.

I never had a confirmed pregnancy, but at one time I thought I had what was implantation spotting and CD1 was late.  But like all good infertiles, CD1 did arrive.  For whatever reason I always thought had I been pregnant it was a boy. 

My sister, on the other hand, was pregnant last year.  We saw Sweet Pea's first and only ultrasound picture.  A beautiful sight - until at eight weeks she was gone.  Though it was too early to know, in my mind that baby was always a girl.

The ages of the children in my dream would have been right on the money.  Mom didn't have her grandchildren here on earth, but she had them in heaven.

Perhaps they appeared to me.  Maybe not.  Maybe it was wishful dreaming.

But it sure was sweet!

2ww

Ask any infertile.  She'll tell you what 2ww means.  It's the dreaded two week wait.  It's the time between peak day and either long awaited joyful news or dreaded disappointment.  I was thinking about that as I was ironing this evening.  How do you explain to someone that you live your life in two week increments? 

I don't remember when I actually stopped doing that.  Life two weeks at a time.  It just happened.  Some of it was a very conscious decision.  This baby thing may never happen, and if it doesn't, what did I miss along the way?  And, in fact, in our case it didn't.  And I'm okay with that.  Really.

Two weeks used to seem like such a long time.  It took forever.  And now?  It flies by.  I've been out of work a little more than two weeks.  The days are a blurr.  I've hiked lots with DH and Jack.  I've done yard work and sewed and read.  I've spent time visiting with family. 

I've activated my resume on the internet job boards and fielded oh so many calls.  I've gone on several interviews and decided what comes next.   In less than a week I'll start a new job. 

And two weeks, no three weeks, will have seemed like the blink of an eye. 

How did that happen?

Did God Say 'No' to Barney and Bluebell

DH and I were feeding the bluebirds meal worms on the patio the other night.  They’re picky eaters.  They only like the meal worms that are alive and squirming.  I was still kind of mad at God for letting something eat their baby birds, when we had this conversation:

DH: “What if God said no?”

Me: “Huh?”

DH: “What if God said no them?  They can’t have babies.”

Me: “Oh.  I’m still mad.”

DH: “I’m sure you’ll find something insightful about this.”

And, as DH usually is, he was right.  My guess it just isn't what he thought I'd come up with.

It struck me weird that I was “mourning” the loss of these baby bluebirds, because they became food for something else, when at the same time I was getting live meal worms out to feed the parents.  There’s this whole cycle of nature and I determined/decided that the bluebirds were worthy of living and the meal worms were not.  Apparently something else decided that the bluebirds made a good meal.  And we tend to think cows and chicken and pigs and fish make good eatin'.

I'm really hoping nothing thinks I'd taste good!

For such a small word, No packs a big punch.

     Mom, can I have ice cream and cookies before dinner?   No

     Can I drink and drive responsibly?  No

     Dad, can I use the car tonight?  No

     Can I sleep around without ramifications?  No

     Will you go out on a date with me?  No

     Can I lose fifty pounds overnight?  No

     Is it going to snow is July?  No

     Mom, can I play ball in the street?  No

     Can I win the lottery without buying a ticket?  No

     God, can I be a mom?  No

Sometimes No is a physical impossiblity.  As much as I'd like to wake up fifty pounds lighter, it just isn't going to happen.  Nor am I going to grow wings and learn how to fly.

Sometimes it's a personal preference.  I really don't want to go out drinking and dancing at the local bar.  I don't want to chair that committee.  And, no, I don't think you look good in green and purple horizontal stripes.

Sometimes that No keeps us from bad consequences.  I won't drunkenly crash the car.  I won't get an STD.  I'll eat a healthier meal if I skip the cookies before dinner.

But what if the reason for the No isn't so apparent?  I think as Catholic women we feel the sting of God's No to children particularly strongly.  It's painful.  Being a mother is what we were created for.  Or is it?  What if God put me here for some other reason.  It doesn't always seem clear to me what it is.  I have to trust, believe, and have faith.  Is that easy?  Emphatically No!

Can I still be happy?  Most certainly!  How?  By looking for truth, beauty and goodness in the world God has given me.  Is it easy?  Well . . . maybe.