zzzzzzzzzzz..... ZOOM!

Well hello, Mr. 1.8-aperture lens. You're kind of awesome. ;)

Our BRW CS latest: Sugar Land's Fire Station No. 7

Check out one of our newest designs..! This design was a collaborative effort between Ray (our boss), Janelle and me. I worked with Ray on the exterior, and Janelle led the interior design process. The grand opening was yesterday; it was quite an event: they had free food and popcorn, a bouncy castle, activities like taking your photo in a very old fire truck and getting to use the long fire hoses to hit a target... it was lots of fun and the clients are so thrilled with their new building. Even though Construction Administration has been a royal pain, it makes it ALL worth it when you know you've got a happy building user. Gotta say, I'm so proud of this one.. :)

The awesome lobby:

The kitchen. I WANT this kitchen:

Day Room:

Elevation from across the street:

The tower (my baby) stands so proud and tall:

YESSSSSS.

Grace, Acceptance, and His Promise

After two visits to Dr. K. in Austin in the span of a week, we've decided that we cannot continue going for ultrasound checkups every week. We've been spending over $100 each time we travel to Austin, and have had to work extra hours to make up for the time we're gone, since we're almost out of sick time. Most importantly, nothing has changed or shown evidence that my ovaries want to work. We'll continue with the treatments, and I will continue to get blood drawn whenever Dr. K. wants to see where my levels are, but that's about it. As much as I want to be a mom and carry a baby, my guess is that all the traveling is adding stress that will not help me get there.

Last week and for the fist time, I spoke with Mimi (my grandma) about the possibility of adoption. I explained that Sam and I had decided to begin looking into adoption if we have not been able to get pregnant by January or February, and even though she'd love to deny it, I could tell she was not thrilled with the idea. When I said that we had to accept that maybe having a baby naturally was not in God's plan for us, she told me, "Don't say that. You're giving up too easily. God can do anything..."

*sigh*. Yes, I know He can. Turning my little ovaries around to have them produce a tiny little egg is peanuts for Him. He once parted a sea... I think He could handle this.

She proceeded to tell me, "well, maybe this is just not your time to become parents..." I have to wrestle myself a little to not feel insulted by the comment.

Ever since I talked to Mimi I have wondered if I have, indeed, given up hope. Sometimes I think that I have; sometimes I just think I'm beginning to accept. I've nearly torn my brain in half trying to pull myself out of the darkness I was in... I don't know that I could be out of it if I don't learn to surrender my stubbornness and move forward. How many times have I tormented myself with questions such as "what's going to happen...?" and "what will I do...?", only to have the situation "figure itself out", without being affected by my input at all? How many times must HE show us that HE is in control for us to learn to let go...?

If anything, I need to accept this for my own mental well-being. Call it an act of self-preservation, if you will. Have I stopped thinking of what I'm in the process of giving up? No... but I need to move on. I have neglected so much in the past few months because of this: some of my rose plants have died. I didn't have my car's oil changed this Summer, and a tire's looking low. Our house is a mess. I've been afraid that I will neglect my husband as well, and I categorically refuse to do this. As soon as we decided to not go to Austin anymore, both Sam and I felt instant relief. This weekend I got to organize a bunch of things around the house, and I feel rejuvenated, in a way. Finally, I feel the kind of peace I hadn't felt in a long time.

I know that He can provide us with a miracle. He knows how much I have desired this. But in the midst of my recovery, I sense that He has an amazing plan for us. He has made this promise:

"For we know that in all things, God works for the good of all those who love Him, who have been called according to his purpose..." - Romans 8:28.

I'm holding on to this.

Surrender...

I wrote this yesterday while taking a break at work.

I don't know why I've been so emotional lately about this. Maybe it's the progesterone shots, who knows. I'm struggling again with the idea of letting go of my beautiful dream. I again feel the temptation to think this is so unfair, and that I feel so betrayed by this body of mine. Lord, how can I give this to you? Please teach me... I'm so weak. It's a wrenching tug-of-war inside: I try so hard to hold on and let go. I'm afraid of the struggle again. Last time I went through this I eventually saw my spirit fall, exhausted from my eyery thought. I want to let go...! I want to...! If anything to have peace inside. Somehow, a part of me fights this though. How can the beautiful desire to carry a child become such a harsh restraint on my soul?

I keep thinking of this Barlow Girl song, "Surrender". There is not one word in this song that doesn't ring true with my internal struggle:

My hands hold safly to my dreams

Clutching tightly not one has fallen
So many years I've shaped each one
Reflecting my heart showing who I am
Now you're asking me to show
What I'm holding oh so tightly
Can't open my hands can't let go
Does it matter?
Should I show you?
Can't you let me go?

Surrender, surrender you whisper gently
You say I will be free
I know but can't you see?
My dreams are me. My dreams are me

You say you have a plan for me
And that you want the best for my life
Told me the world had yet to see
What you can do with one
That's committed to Your calling
I know of course what I should do
That I can't hold these dreams forever
If I give them now to You
Will You take them away forever?
Or can I dream again?

P-A-T-I-E-N-C-E. Patience.

I can now see why so many women struggling with infertility become obsessed with trying to get pregnant. Ever since Dr. K. in Austin prescribed this plan we're following, it's made me think about the possibility of becoming a mother that much more.

So a brief (hopefully) recap: only two days after returning from our trip to Austin, after Sam and I had definitively decided to begin the adoption process, and after 15 months of not having had a period... I had one. I did not know what the heck to think, but I decided to call Dr. K. and see if this changed his initial reaction to our case. He immediately ordered further blood work to check my FSH and estradiol levels; my FSH had dramatically lowered to 38, from the initial 130. My estradiol was low, but not too low. So Dr. K. did some research and after a few days, suggested a plan to try to get us pregnant naturally. There's only about 33% chances it will work, but we were more than willing to try this: it was something, at least. The plan consists of three phases: phase 1--I take ethinyl estradiol for two weeks; phase 2--ethinyl estradiol plus an FSH compound; and phase 3--I take something else... HCG? Can't remember. I do know that while I take the FSH, he wants to perform several ultrasounds to make sure that my ovaries are not being overly stimulated. Ever since I started taking the ethinyl estradiol, I've had fertile mucus so we're taking advantage of that.

All these developments have been exciting, nerve-wrecking and ever-present in my mind, primarily because I have to take the ethinyl estradiol three times a day (so how could I NOT think about it, right?). We bought pregnancy tests; and even though I know this is not the time to take one yet (it's just way too early), I took one today. I couldn't contain myself anymore, I had to know. As I should've known based on what I now know about the menstrual cycle, the test came back negative. I began having negative feelings right away: "what if this doesn't happen?...what if I've built up hopes for nothing?..."what IF...!!!?". *sigh*. I promise, I really wish sometimes that I could turn it off. This is exhausting, mentally speaking.

Tonight at church, I once again prayed fervently that the Holy Spirit help me accept God's will, if His will is that we adopt. I need to be gracious with our Lord and Creator, and with His perfect will. I need to be prepared. I felt somewhat ashamed that I took a pregnancy test today knowing that it likely wouldn't show anything, because it showed my lack of trust in the Lord. No matter how many times I take that test, whatever happens cannot be changed by how many times I do that. It may be a bad analogy, but I reminded myself of Moses and how he succumbed to the temptation of hitting the rock with his staff twice, even though God had instructed him to hit the rock only once.

The culprit is, as so many times it's been, my impatience with almost everything. If I could name one wonderful thing that marriage does for a person is this: marriage allows you to see yourself at your best and at your worst; you get to display and face your absolutely best and absolutely worst qualities (and then you go, "Aw crap."). And mine is impatience... maybe this trial, this cross I'm bearing at this time, is God's way to purify my soul and teach me about patience, and trust in Him. In a way, I rejoice at the opportunity to feel humble, to be quiet, and to learn. Quietly, in prayer. I cannot deny that this is painful, not being a mom yet. But my faith in Him has not, and will not go away. This is a trial He must know I can stand, through Him. The beauty of these painful trials is that you get to realize how flippin' helpless you are without Him. And I am so weak, so humbled by this...

A couple of weeks ago when this treatment started, I prayed that God teach me how to leave everything in His hands; let Jesus carry this cross for me. And I have been doing much better these past couple of weeks, but the second the possibility of becoming pregnant looms... I fall to my old tricks again.

A part of me cannot wait. My body has ached with this desire for over a year now, and it's so very hard. But this anxiety goes against Him, and what He wants me to do. I need to calm down. I need to let go. Because as much as I'd like to believe the contrary, I'm not holding down anything, I have power over nothing. Only He does. I get tired of thinking about this all the time, my life is about so much more. I know I'm at a point where motherhood IS my next step as a woman.

How I dream of becoming a mother....!

Austin.

This past Friday we had yet another confirmation that we cannot have children. Our last hope, medically speaking, was a doctor who studied and worked under Dr. Hilgers (the man who developed the NFP method we follow). The hope is almost gone. This doctor was very polite and very upbeat when he first introduced himself. After seeing our NFP chart and my history, he was at a loss for words. Before I had a chance to fully digest his reaction, he was saying that adoption should be considered. Though very polite, it annoyed me that he kept saying, "this is very tough, guys. Very, very tough". I understand that he just didn't know what to say, but it felt like rubbing my nose on my infertility over and over. Even if we would've been in favor of IVF, I wouldn't have been a candidate because my hormone levels are so off the charts. Even the exploratory surgeries that Dr. Hilgers likes to perform would be pointless.

Now I know how Michael felt right after his first wife died. He told Sam he hated the pity looks, the "time heals wounds" comments that people would give him. I know that feeling exactly now. I HATE the pity comments. I hate them. I'm thankful that my faith has been strong enough that I have not become angry with God, yet I hate the "we're praying for you" comments. That does not alleviate pain. I think it's because "we're praying for you", along with the equally popular "our thoughts and prayers go out to you", has become one of those Hallmark-type things everyone says when they don't know, or don't care, to come up with something better to say. Yes, we appreciate the prayers. At this point, prayer is the only thing that can pull us out of this. But I HATE hearing, "we're praying for you". Half the time, the words are empty.

At times I envision myself with my eyes tightly shut, holding my head with both hands and screaming with my mouth wide open as strongly as I can, yet no sound comes out. It's a deaf cry. Sometimes I envision an arm extended up, pleading for help at the bottom of a jet-black pit. But no help comes. When I think about what's happened during the past couple of months, I have a knot in my throat. It feels like I can't get enough air, I cannot speak. My heart shrinks. I have this heart which was so ready to give our child all the love I could give him or her. I was so ready to feel life inside. Been ready for over a year.

Sometimes I feel like just posting it on Facebook for EVERYBODY to see: "Dear everybody: we CANNOT have children. Ask us one more time when we're going to have kids and I'll punch you in the face".

Thankfully, the rest of the weekend was better. We spent it in Austin, going to McKinney Falls (which should be more aptly called "McKinney trickles", at least until they get some good rain), the Austin Zoo, several local food joints. I like Austin. It wouldn't be the end of the world to live in Longhorn county; the natural beauty of the area, tied with the quirkiness of everything you see, makes it a very special place and makes up for the abundance of burned orange we'd see everywhere. Sam was... unbelievably amazing. Supportive and kind. Gentle. Exactly what I needed. Sometimes I'm truly amazed at how God knew exactly who I needed to cross paths with, because without Sam I truly do not know where I would be.

Now we're home, and it's back to the grind. We have discussed our options (or lack thereof), and have decided to proceed with adoption. We need to educate ourselves more about it all. As a couple, we're ready to be mom and dad. I'm so ready to be a mom. In a way, it's better to be messed up enough that there are no other options. If I would be a more typical messed up case, we'd probably consider other routes before thinking about adopting. Sam's reading a book titled "What to Expect when she's not Expecting", and the author talks about how he and his wife spent about $250,000 in in vitro treatments ALONE, and never got pregnant. They also tried hormone replacement therapy, surgeries, you name it. Sam even said the lady had a procedure where somehow her cervix was slowly stretched artificially. Nothing worked; they had to resort to surrogacy. So, my lack of eggs and everything else messed up with me keeps us from considering anything else. Adoption it is.

I've said it before: one day I will be better. It will take time though.

Dark.

Anything that reminds me of my "different state" angers me. Then it depresses me.

A foreword of sorts: this is MY journal. As such, I feel entitled to say exactly what is on my mind. I need it. I need it so badly.

Someone at work just had a baby. Someone I know is pregnant. Back when we first learned of my condition, I cried a lot. I eventually thought, "The worst thing would be if someone I know becomes pregnant soon." Then like magic, it happened.

I'm too damn young to be dealing with this. Inside, I feel a very dark voice crying out. As it cries, a very thick, tar-like substance covers it. It eventually drowns out the voice, and only a large empty hole remains. Haha, I often imagine my mind like Samara from "the Ring". Not menacing Samara though. Dark Samara. "Falling into a freaking abyss" Samara. Freaking helpless.

I pray, a lot. On and off this weekend, I've found myself begging to God to provide me with solace. With comfort. Maybe the dark voice I feel inside is not crying in anger. It's begging to be pulled out of darkness.

Friday was a pretty alright day. Until nighttime. Then all hell broke loose inside. Yesterday my eyes were still evidence of how rough the night got. I eventually went on: at work, I helped set up for today's conference. Then I went to my second photography lesson in downtown Bryan, which after an hour or so helped me forget. It helped me smile again. It was so much fun, actually: two models, two cameras, and wonderfully unique backdrops. I loved feeling free from those awful feelings, and I loved forgetting about the truth of my condition.

We're supposed to have lunch with some of Sam's friends today. I know life goes on. I have to move on.