It’s Okay to be Vulnerable

Let me begin by saying that this blog has been many, many months in the making. I have battled in my mind over and over as to whether or not I should post this. As each day has passed, I have come up with a different excuse as to why I shouldn’t post it. Why have I been so hesitant? One word: PRIDE. I was too worried about what “so and so” would think. I didn’t want to be told a solution to a struggle I had been facing. I didn’t want others to think I was trying to receive some sort of pity party. I didn’t want anyone to think I was seeking attention. I just really didn’t want to be vulnerable…and as I’m writing this…I’ve got sweaty palms just thinking about being transparent. Vulnerability is hard. Fear of what others think of me is one of my biggest struggles. (I know…that is pride)

I touched on transparency in an earlier blog post, but that is truly when my convictions set in. The main goal of “Everyday Ellie” is to be transparent with the good, the bad, and the ugly of life. Right? I realized I only wanted to be transparent up to a certain point. Why? PRIDE. The reality is, I greatly appreciate it when others openly write about their struggles. I respect their courage and their desire to honor Christ with every word written. It inspires me and gives me such hope. My true prayer of what I’m about to share is that you see my heart and hear a story of how good God is in the middle of a valley, and I pray it gives hope to the hurting.

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It was around August of 2014 when Scott looked at me and said something that made my heart skip quite a few beats. I’ll never forget that day. We were driving down a road near our house, and he just looked over at me, smiled, grabbed my hand, and said, “I’m ready to be a dad”. This was a significant day for me. You see, I’ve wanted to be a mom since the day we got married, but Scott was pretty skeptical of the whole parenting thing when we first got married. I decided to stop talking about being a mom and having kids, and I started praying for months and months that God would prepare Scott for when the time was right. He said that we could “talk about it after 3 years of marriage”. (UH…LONGEST 3 YEARS OF MY LIFE…I’m kidding! I’m so thankful that he is level-headed and knew what was best for us.) I still didn’t push the issue after our 3rd anniversary because I knew Scott wasn’t quite ready. God was evidently changing Scott’s heart. He started to point out little babies and started commenting how adorable they were. Obviously, I was melting into a giant puddle on the floor. He finally said those six words I had been waiting to hear for a long, long time: “I’m ready to be a dad.”

We decided to wait to start trying* until after our trip to Disney in October 2014 because who wants to be pregnant at Disney and not be able to ride the rides?! Not me. DISNEY IS MAGICAL. Pregnancy would’ve hindered the magic. Besides, what was one more month?
(*Side note: The word “trying” makes me cringe. There HAS to be a better word. It’s so awkward for everyone.)
In my perfect world, I would be pregnant by November of 2014, and we would have a baby by August of 2015. It’s just that simple. I had planned the way we would tell our families at Christmas that we were pregnant. I was ecstatic. I was about to be living the dream I had since I was a little girl.

(Fun Fact: I was the little girl who either always had a baby doll on my hip or inside my shirt pretending I was pregnant. I was ALWAYS the mom when I played house. Babies were my thing.)

Little did I know the journey God was about to take me and Scott on.

Months began to creep by. No signs of pregnancy. Month after month I was confused as to why I still wasn’t pregnant. It was about six months into this process when my desires to be a mom were the strongest they had ever been. The months became harder and harder. Every time I felt the least bit tired, nauseous, dizzy, or even just a bit “off”, I knew that it was finally happening. In a matter of seconds, I would mentally have the announcement and how we would tell our friends and family planned. The mind is a powerful thing. However, every month that was a “no”, I would only cry harder.

In October of 2015, we decided to begin all of the testing to figure out why I still wasn’t pregnant. Scott and I were both poked and prodded, had several procedures and a surgery. I’ll spare you all of those details, but if you would like to know, I would be happy to tell you.

Fast Forward to today:

Thanks to my sweet friend, Nicole Barker, for this beautiful painting!

Our 5 Year Anniversary is this week. I wish this was the part where I could share that we are pregnant…but we are not. Oh how my heart aches and longs for that day. Some days, that’s just a hard reality for me to swallow. Some days require pep-talks in the mirror and lots of prayer to make it through the day without breaking down in front of anyone. I cry…a lot. I’m slowly realizing it’s okay to cry and not to pretend to have it all together. (See…Pride…it’s my struggle. I just worry about the way I am perceived WAY TOO MUCH.) Dear Friend: BE YOURSELF…not who you think others want you to be. (…Still learning this lesson)

I know that God didn’t place this desire in my heart as a little girl for no reason. He is faithful. His timing just isn’t always our timing. I don’t know how our story will end, but I am clinging to the promise that I will be a mother to a precious baby one day.

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Infertility is hard. I’m convinced that social media makes it even harder because you are constantly surrounded by posts of pregnancy announcements, mommy-hood struggles, and adorable babies. You genuinely want to rejoice with them because you know what a gift and a miracle a sweet baby is, but deep deep down there’s a part of your heart that aches and longs for the day you experience those things. Your story is not their story. Every story is different, and learning not to long for their story, compare your story to theirs, and fight off jealous thoughts is flat out tough…well at least it is for me.

I hope to unfold even more of our infertility journey as we continue down this road. I know several friends who have struggled with infertility and with miscarriages. For some reason, both of those journeys feel like silent suffering. You feel alone, and you feel like no one cares to ask how you are doing. The body of Christ should rally behind these sweet couples, and there should be no shame in sharing openly about our trials. I know some women can’t even talk about it because it hurts too bad. Some simply choose to keep it private and that is completely understandable. I have just had this strong conviction to share our story for a while now, and as I stated earlier, pride is the main reason I haven’t.

To wrap this post up, I’d like to address a few people.

To the precious couple struggling with infertility:

Cry together. Laugh together. Pray together. Support one another through every doctor’s visit, every negative pregnancy test, and every emotional stage that comes with this journey. God is writing a beautiful, perfect, and unique story for your family. Trust His perfect plan. God sees you. He hears every longing prayer. He hasn’t forgotten about you. There are days none of that seems true, but I promise it is.    

To the friend of someone struggling with infertility:

It’s awkward. I know it is. You don’t really understand what they are walking through, and that is 100% okay. I know it’s the awkward elephant in the room, but don’t ignore their hurt because you don’t want to upset them.  It’s already on their mind, so you aren’t bringing up old pain, you’re simply acknowledging their silent pain. Remind them that you are praying for them. Remind them that God sees them. Remind them that it is okay to cry. Ask them how they are doing. Try your best not to give them advice, and if you do, make sure it’s necessary and beneficial. You don’t have to try to offer answers, just let them know you hurt with them.  Love them through every phase. They need it. 

To my sweet husband, Scott:

Thank you for holding me when I cry and telling me “It’s okay. Cry all you want.” Thank you for taking me on fun outings to cheer me up. Thank you for selflessly loving me through this whole process. Thank you for not getting frustrated at me when I’m all emotional and crazy. You are the most patient man I know, and I am beyond thankful for you. I love you more today than I ever thought possible. 

One final word: This is not simply a blog post about infertility. Rather, it’s about the fact that it’s ok to be vulnerable, to be transparent, to be open about the hard times. I’ve said many times that if people don’t know my story, how will God receive the glory? I’ve read many posts over the past two years regarding infertility and a lot of times they end with a sonogram and a statement regarding how God has answered their prayers. However, that is not the case here. I have no sonogram to share. I have no resolution to this struggle. Many of you may never be directly affected by infertility, but we all go through difficult seasons. I simply want to tell you that regardless of what season you are going through, God sees you. He sees every tear, He hears every prayer, and He desires to carry you through the entire journey. For us, this journey isn’t over. There are still tears. There are countless prayers. God is carrying us through each day of this journey. He is faithful, and He wants to do the same for you.