4tunate

I’ve hesitated to write this post.  I feel torn about being torn, and how to describe this personal struggle. Even now there is a lump in my throat as I begin to jot down my thoughts.  However, this IS my reality, regardless of how this post is interpreted.  My heart behind blogging has been connecting with others and encouraging those in similar situations – so perhaps this will help someone someday experiencing similar circumstances by sharing my personal journey.

In an effort to not complain or draw attention to myself, there’s something I haven’t told you, or really hardly anyone.  Honestly only Brad can begin to grasp the enormity these last 3 years+ have been on my body. 

My battle happens to be a physical one.  It’s more than the exhaustion of keeping up with 4 boys, and trying to balance life’s responsibilities.  There is an incredible amount of pain that haunts my daily life.

When I delivered my boys at 32 weeks, I knew my body would never look or probably feel the same.  However, I did not anticipate a life of discouraging pain and missing out on the full potential of motherhood.  My 5’2 frame took on an incredible load, and it withstood so much more than we could have imagined.  I endured two major surgeries, my ribs were misplaced, my pelvic frame was shifted, muscles were torn, and my skin was stretched to its limit so much that it bled. 

But the gain?  So incredibly worth it. 

We took four preemie miracles home from the NICU and four years later they bring more joy to my life than I could possibly imagine. 

Would I do it all again for their lives?  In an instant!

However, I constantly deal with the side effects of what my body went through on their behalf.  Emotionally I deal with wishing I could do so many things as a mom, that my body will not allow. Because of the way my body was forced to stretch and adapt to the extremes of a quad pregnancy, my core abdominal muscles have been severely separated, thus giving very little support or strength. Without functional core muscles, my back has been forced to take on the weight and stress of life. 

It might not sound like that significant of an issue but let me walk you through a glimpse of my morning to give you an idea of the impact it has made:

• Getting out of bed – My muscles ache and are stiff from laying. I dread moving.
• I head straight to the shower or bathtub to get some relief with the hot water soaking my tight muscles.
• The boys are up and I wince in pain as I dress them for the day. Tugging on a pair of pants, stretching on a sock, bending over to pick up dirty laundry – every move is noticeably painful.
• I begin to fix them breakfast and cannot take out the trash bag that is full in fear that my back would give out for the day.
• Breakfast clean up goes slowly as I experience constant pain in the mundane mindless tasks of wiping the table and sweeping the floor.  My back is screaming for me to sit down and it’s only 9am.
• I fight back tears as I unload things from the washing machine to the dryer.
• In effort to be a “fun” mom after breakfast is cleaned up, I  sit down to play a game of Chutes and Ladders on the floor. I become impatient from the pain, and I just want it to be over, rather than enjoy the moment.
• I lay on my stomach for 20 minutes unable to do anything, because of the pain from sitting on the floor for a 1/2 hour.  I feel discouraged that this pain will most likely accompany  me the remainder of the day, just for playing a simple game on the floor.
• It’s 10:30 am and my body feels spent, but I know I must persevere so that Brad can work and fulfill our financial responsibilities.

There are bigger things that I’m missing out on than these daily tasks; It’s the moments of motherhood that I’m missing that hurt me the most: I can’t push my boys on the swing, I can’t lift them up easily to squeeze them and tell them I love them, I cannot give them a bath, I struggle to even tuck them in at night, I can’t hold them up to show them the baby birds chirping in the nest, I have to lay on the couch and miss their squeals as they play in the sprinkler with daddy, or even miss days altogether because I cannot function (which as you can imagine effects us financially).

Blogging has become a coping strategy for the pain.  When I’m forced to rest, I’ve been at least been able to blog some of our fondest memories and post pictures we’ve treasured. 

It’s difficult, but I don’t mean to throw a pity part for myself – I have been given SO MUCH.  I have been blessed more than I could ask or imagine.  And I know that many of you deal with so much MORE.

After 3 years of trying to heal and cope with the pain through various treatments, physical therapy, and doctors visits I will be having surgery next Thursday. I will be having a complete abdominoplasty to reconstruct my severely separated abdominal wall, with hopes that the new support and strength will significantly lessen or rid my daily battle with pain.  In addition, this should protect my body from any long term back injuries.

It’s not an easy road ahead.  It’s one of the most intense surgeries and recoveries out there, just ask my quad mama friend, Gen, who is currently recovering from this procedure. I would love to be able to enjoy motherhood more, and close this chapter on the quad pregnancy for good.

I’m hopeful that putting my body back together will do just that. As always, your prayers and encouragement are much appreciated for the surgery and the difficult 6-8 week recovery ahead.

May God use this to glorify Him, and to strengthen our faith and dependence on Him!

My husband called into a Christian radio broadcast last week that was discussing infertility treatments.  It’s a hot topic in most every circle.  And while most of their discussion was accurate, some of the callers and their opinions were misinformed and offensive.

It’s so easy to do: To make judgments, form opinions, talk at great lengths about topics that haven’t stared you in the face.   Making calls on hypothetical topics is so much simpler, isn’t it?

But sometimes those hypothetical ponderings become raw realities. Unexpectedly, the rubber meets the road.  You must do something – even doing nothing is a direct response. Behind every difficult situation lies an untold story and most likely a series of agonizing decisions. 

Millions of women are prescribed medications to treat infertility every year, yet very few of them result in a multiple gestation. For many of them, their struggle remains private, even after a successful pregnancy. No one is peppered with questions of how they got pregnant in a singleton pregnancy.  It would be completely inappropriate to ask such questions. However in our circumstance, what we believed to be “conservative” efforts resulted in a rare blessing of quadruplets, which means that the infertility label is permanently tattooed on our foreheads for all to see.

As a result, our private lives have become a topic of conversation with strangers with inquiries like,

“Did you put in 8 eggs like that Octomom?”  “I guess you weren’t so infertile after all, huh?” “Guess that teaches you what to pray for…” “They aren’t natural, are they?”  “Did you do that In-vee-ter-row?” 

And while it’s often difficult to smile and nod, and attempt to be gracious to those who have never felt the deep pains of infertility as they cast judgments upon your past decisions, it becomes even more painful when these darts are thrown at you by fellow believers.  Ephesians 4:29-32 is forsaken.

It’s disappointing, discouraging, and sometimes defeating.

There is a duty to stand for truth and to voice convictions on Biblical mandates. Lying, stealing, murder, adultery, honoring parents, coveting – these are areas where we must not compromise. However, there are times that I think we forget to extend grace, especially when facing interpretive issues and personal convictions.  Often we get so entirely consumed with our position, that we fail to see the lives behind the decision.

Regardless of our past decisions, the crux of the matter is we now have four lives that are a blessing, not a curse.  We celebrate life, and we live in thankfulness for the gifts of life we have been given.  Our joy cannot be smothered.

And as a result, we are reminded to extend grace to others walking a difficult road…

It’s right around this time in January or a tad later that I start breaking the resolutions I promised myself on January 1.

* No more fries. (Chick-fil-A Waffle Fries, you got me.)

* Read my Bible everyday. (Sunday is optional, right?)

* Quit biting my nails. (I never make it past Day 3.)

* Exercise 3-5x a week. (Still going, though I despise it most days.)

* Wake up earlier. Go to bed earlier. (This night owl thing is a hard habit to kick.)

* Praying throughout my day and listening during prayer. (My communication is often so one sided.)

* Serve others more. (I’m sure I’ve overlooked a dozen ways I could have served others.)

* Organize Life. (Will I be able to stay on top of laundry, schedules, etc.?)

It’s right about now that I want to start beating myself up, falling to defeat, resolving never to resolve again, throwing in the towel without counting the costs.  Sure, some of these things might be just silly ambitions that are for the most part meaningless. However, many of them reveal a lack of obedience, submission, and discipline. 

I’m confronted with the realization that I’ve been chasing after my own perfections once again. I’m destined to fail without His strength.  You see, I am nothing without Him. (John 15:4,5)

But you know what? I ask for forgiveness and He reminds me that I’m forgiven. (Ephesians 1:7) He embraces me with His mercy. He gives me strength to try again. He covers me with His grace.

Like a blanket of snow.