Discussing Philip's upcoming work travel a couple weeks back, he and I ran into a predicament: I suspected I would ovulate during a particular week, and he was supposed to be in Huntsville, Alabama, for work during said week.
As you may realize, in order for a child to be conceived, the mother and father have to be in the same state during the time of ovulation. But further complicating things is that unlike all you lucky ladies who ovulate "like clockwork," my cycle likes to keep things interesting.
"Can you be SURE you'll ovulate that week?" asked Philip, who was reticent to change his travel plans — and those of all his colleagues — for my best shot in the dark. No, I could not be sure, but it was a definite possibility.
The whole conversation was frustrating and felt lose-lose. If he traveled, he would likely miss my ovulation. If he postponed his trip, he would aggravate his coworkers, and it would be a whole ordeal. Philip travels often for work, so this wasn't the first time we'd gotten into such a jam. He ultimately decided to change the travel dates, which made me feel both grateful and guilty.
The next day at work, I shared what had happened with my good friend Lauren over IM. "I JUST started a new cycle, and the situation is already loaded up with pressure and conflict," I bemoaned.
Lauren listened compassionately and offered her encouragement. I went on, "It doesn't help that my cycle is just such a guessing game. I think I'm ready to try an ovulation-predictor kit (OPK)."
"Is that the one with the smiley face?" Lauren asked.
"I don't know!" I said. "What's that?"
She went on to tell me about a friend of hers who had a pee test she took every morning; when she wasn't about to ovulate, the result was a frowny face, and when she was about to ovulate, it turned into a smiley face. The friend awoke hungover one morning, took the test, and got her smiley face — so she woke up her equally hungover husband, knew him in the biblical sense, and successfully conceived.
"What kind of OPK do you want?" she asked me.
"I don't know," I said. "I haven't researched them much. They're pretty expensive, so it's hard to justify. But that smiley-face one sounds awesome!"
"Don't buy it," she typed from her computer. "It'll be here in three to five business days."
It took me a minute to realize what had happened: Lauren had just gone ahead and bought me an OPK online.
The act delighted and humbled me. In addition to being a good listener and offering uplifting words, Lauren did something — something pretty unconventional (how many people do you know who have bought their friends OPKs?) — for me. No more waffling about whether an OPK was worth the money; it was on the way.
A few days later, when I got to my work cubicle, there was a small box wrapped in brown paper and a green ribbon. I started testing the very next day. (When you're not about to ovulate, only an empty circle appears — sadly, there is no frowny face. Joking about this later with some girlfriends, we said they could really get more creative with it, like, when you're not about to ovulate, it says something like, "Not yet! Chill out!" And then when you are about to ovulate, it says, "Get busy!")
I tested for about five days when I observed one of my body's natural cues that ovulation was imminent. Sure enough, the next morning, the OPK concurred: I got my smiley face!
It was a relief to have a concrete piece of technology verify when was the best time to try. It was a relief that it aligned with my own fertility charting. And it was a giant relief to know that I have good friends who have my back, not only with prayers and encouraging words, but also with bold, get-'er-done actions that help to solve my problems. I hope I'm the same kind of friend to others.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Thursday, August 04, 2011
THE FLOOD
On Sunday, the day after our anniversary, I awoke in a funk, proving once again what a leaky vessel I truly am. With the excitement of our celebration behind us, I had nothing to distract me from dwelling on my current reality: After three months of targeted trying, we are still not pregnant.
I moped around all day. Philip asked me several times what was wrong, but I didn't know how to articulate it. I was just down. At least I'm not hysterically crying like last month, I thought to myself. That's an improvement.
At some point in the afternoon, Philip took a call from a friend. Later, he approached me as I was glumly pulling laundry out of the dryer. "I need to tell you something," he said solemnly. His news: Some friends of ours, who are actually trying to avoid pregnancy right now, accidentally conceived. The friends had called because they care about me and wanted me to know, but didn't know how to tell me, as they sensitively assumed it would be difficult news for me to receive.
When Philip delivered this revelation to me, I wish I could tell you I reacted calmly, rationally, appropriately. But instead, I immediately started sobbing like a total maniac. The jealousy, the anger, the fear, the confusion all welled up in me so fast and viscerally that there was no stopping the flood. Almost as quickly, a wave of shame washed over me for feeling so selfish, which only made me cry harder. So much for keeping my emotions in check this month.
What is God doing? Why do some people become pregnant when they don't even want to be, while I want to be and can't achieve it? It doesn't make any sense, and of course, I want things to make sense. Philip and I are emotionally ready. We're financially stable. We're healthy. We've had a good many years to tenderly develop our infant marriage into a more mature one. We seem like perfect candidates for parenthood.
Of course, we haven't been trying that long, but nevertheless, the various fears come at me like arrows ...
What if there's something medically wrong with me or Philip or both of us?
What if we waited too long to even start trying?
What if I get so resentful toward friends who have children that I ruin the friendships?
What if God thinks my marital relationship isn't strong enough for Philip and I to be good parents?
What if God thinks I'll be too helpless with a child?
What if God doesn't think those things, but our friends think God thinks those things?
What if God is trying to teach me something? What is it? Why don't so many other people have to learn it? Can't I learn it some other way that's not so difficult?
Am I being naive if I believe God has some perfect timing He's waiting for or some greater plan I just can't see right now?
Now, as the menstrual hormones begin to subside, the fog in my head begins to clear. Hope returns, almost supernaturally. Miraculously, the fears retreat to a more remote corner of my mind, and I can again bear to read various friends' baby-centric statuses on Facebook. And when it comes to our couple friends who accidentally conceived, I find myself happy for them and ready to hear their whole story.
I moped around all day. Philip asked me several times what was wrong, but I didn't know how to articulate it. I was just down. At least I'm not hysterically crying like last month, I thought to myself. That's an improvement.
At some point in the afternoon, Philip took a call from a friend. Later, he approached me as I was glumly pulling laundry out of the dryer. "I need to tell you something," he said solemnly. His news: Some friends of ours, who are actually trying to avoid pregnancy right now, accidentally conceived. The friends had called because they care about me and wanted me to know, but didn't know how to tell me, as they sensitively assumed it would be difficult news for me to receive.
When Philip delivered this revelation to me, I wish I could tell you I reacted calmly, rationally, appropriately. But instead, I immediately started sobbing like a total maniac. The jealousy, the anger, the fear, the confusion all welled up in me so fast and viscerally that there was no stopping the flood. Almost as quickly, a wave of shame washed over me for feeling so selfish, which only made me cry harder. So much for keeping my emotions in check this month.
What is God doing? Why do some people become pregnant when they don't even want to be, while I want to be and can't achieve it? It doesn't make any sense, and of course, I want things to make sense. Philip and I are emotionally ready. We're financially stable. We're healthy. We've had a good many years to tenderly develop our infant marriage into a more mature one. We seem like perfect candidates for parenthood.
Of course, we haven't been trying that long, but nevertheless, the various fears come at me like arrows ...
What if there's something medically wrong with me or Philip or both of us?
What if we waited too long to even start trying?
What if I get so resentful toward friends who have children that I ruin the friendships?
What if God thinks my marital relationship isn't strong enough for Philip and I to be good parents?
What if God thinks I'll be too helpless with a child?
What if God doesn't think those things, but our friends think God thinks those things?
What if God is trying to teach me something? What is it? Why don't so many other people have to learn it? Can't I learn it some other way that's not so difficult?
Am I being naive if I believe God has some perfect timing He's waiting for or some greater plan I just can't see right now?
Now, as the menstrual hormones begin to subside, the fog in my head begins to clear. Hope returns, almost supernaturally. Miraculously, the fears retreat to a more remote corner of my mind, and I can again bear to read various friends' baby-centric statuses on Facebook. And when it comes to our couple friends who accidentally conceived, I find myself happy for them and ready to hear their whole story.
Tuesday, August 02, 2011
SIX YEARS
On Friday, I started to spot, so I knew what was coming. I was disappointed of course, but knowing the following day was set aside to celebrate six years of marriage with Philip was a major boon to my spirit. We had the whole day to do as we pleased, without the interruption of chores, errands, work or other people (no offense, other people). I was just hoping the full onslaught of my period would wait at least until Sunday so I could have sex with my husband on our anniversary.
Using the crossover of our wish lists, we decided to head to Rock Springs, but were turned away at 10 a.m. because the park was already full. After making a mental note to ourselves that we should never again attempt to visit Rock Springs during the summer on a weekend day (this has happened to us two or three times before), we made a U turn and headed to Canaveral National Seashore.
On the way, we made a pit stop at Walmart to buy beach chairs and a beach umbrella. This purchase pretty much doubled the amount of beach paraphernalia we had to schlep, but it was totally worthwhile -- Philip discovered he all of a sudden went from feeling like he could tolerate the beach to actually liking it!
All settled in under our umbrella, with the pristine sand dunes behind us, we dug into the lunch Philip had packed: an assortment of snacks, my favorite. Then we took a walk, we swam in the waves, and I read my book while Philip took a nap. It was perfect.
After we got back home and showered, Philip played bartender and mixed us each a cocktail that we enjoyed while chatting on the sofa. Then we decided to grab dinner at 310 Park South. Being so late, there was no wait at the restaurant, and an acoustic guitarist was even performing. We both really enjoyed our entrees and splurged on a mousse for dessert.
Lingering over each bite as the restaurant began to clear out, the lighting dim and the guitarist gently singing in the background, I felt that we were hanging in one of those rare transcendent moments when all is right and we are more in love than ever before. I gazed at him across the table and began to reflect on our six years of marriage, going from young, naive newlyweds to full-blown adults. How do you hold six years in your head -- all the laughter, all the arguments, all the lovemaking, all the bill paying, all the trips, all the quiet nights at home?
We just finished reading and discussing the last chapter of Love & War with our small group this week, and the authors write, "There are couples who find their way to something beautiful. Truly beautiful. We pray that you will be among ... those who find their way to a beautiful and powerful marriage. But there is no guarantee of course. So why bother? Why risk it? Why throw yourself wholeheartedly into such a dangerous, costly, and uncertain enterprise?"
In preparation for our small-group meeting, Philip and I discussed this question. Are we willing to throw ourselves wholeheartedly into our marriage? Why?
Our answer, of course, is yes, for myriad reasons. First off, happily, we still like each other. We still want each other. We still enjoy spending time together. But we have experienced moments when that's not entirely true, and we know more are bound to be ahead. So what about those times? Why fight for the marriage then?
The Sunday-school answer is that we want to obey God and honor our vows, and the gut-level answer is that when we don't get along, we hope things between us will change and improve in the future. The book's answer is that you fight for marriage because the whole point of life is learning to love, even when it's really crazy hard.
My answer included all these reasons, plus the one that is especially poignant on an anniversary -- I don't want to throw away all that we've built. Over six years, we've created a life from scratch that is so intertwined, I wouldn't know who I was without it. Our home, our families, our friends, our cats, our neighborhood, our finances, our routine, our diet, our values, our bucket list. The way we've learned each other -- what makes him mad, what turns her on, what brightens his day, what calms her down. The way we've figured out how to run our household like a well-oiled machine (most of the time). How hard we worked to surmount huge challenges like buying a house, finishing grad school and wrestling through this peculiar endeavor of trying to conceive. And our memories! So many memories that are so precious, so priceless, I would never want to diminish their value by walking away.
I thought about all these things as I studied Philip's face from across the table. It wasn't so articulate, but the complex symphony of all our years together flashed through my thoughts, and I felt overwhelmed -- with gratitude, with satisfaction, with love.
And when we got home, we took advantage of the fact that my period did, in fact, wait to fully assail me until Monday. And that's all I'll say about that.
Using the crossover of our wish lists, we decided to head to Rock Springs, but were turned away at 10 a.m. because the park was already full. After making a mental note to ourselves that we should never again attempt to visit Rock Springs during the summer on a weekend day (this has happened to us two or three times before), we made a U turn and headed to Canaveral National Seashore.
On the way, we made a pit stop at Walmart to buy beach chairs and a beach umbrella. This purchase pretty much doubled the amount of beach paraphernalia we had to schlep, but it was totally worthwhile -- Philip discovered he all of a sudden went from feeling like he could tolerate the beach to actually liking it!
All settled in under our umbrella, with the pristine sand dunes behind us, we dug into the lunch Philip had packed: an assortment of snacks, my favorite. Then we took a walk, we swam in the waves, and I read my book while Philip took a nap. It was perfect.
After we got back home and showered, Philip played bartender and mixed us each a cocktail that we enjoyed while chatting on the sofa. Then we decided to grab dinner at 310 Park South. Being so late, there was no wait at the restaurant, and an acoustic guitarist was even performing. We both really enjoyed our entrees and splurged on a mousse for dessert.
Lingering over each bite as the restaurant began to clear out, the lighting dim and the guitarist gently singing in the background, I felt that we were hanging in one of those rare transcendent moments when all is right and we are more in love than ever before. I gazed at him across the table and began to reflect on our six years of marriage, going from young, naive newlyweds to full-blown adults. How do you hold six years in your head -- all the laughter, all the arguments, all the lovemaking, all the bill paying, all the trips, all the quiet nights at home?
We just finished reading and discussing the last chapter of Love & War with our small group this week, and the authors write, "There are couples who find their way to something beautiful. Truly beautiful. We pray that you will be among ... those who find their way to a beautiful and powerful marriage. But there is no guarantee of course. So why bother? Why risk it? Why throw yourself wholeheartedly into such a dangerous, costly, and uncertain enterprise?"
In preparation for our small-group meeting, Philip and I discussed this question. Are we willing to throw ourselves wholeheartedly into our marriage? Why?
Our answer, of course, is yes, for myriad reasons. First off, happily, we still like each other. We still want each other. We still enjoy spending time together. But we have experienced moments when that's not entirely true, and we know more are bound to be ahead. So what about those times? Why fight for the marriage then?
The Sunday-school answer is that we want to obey God and honor our vows, and the gut-level answer is that when we don't get along, we hope things between us will change and improve in the future. The book's answer is that you fight for marriage because the whole point of life is learning to love, even when it's really crazy hard.
My answer included all these reasons, plus the one that is especially poignant on an anniversary -- I don't want to throw away all that we've built. Over six years, we've created a life from scratch that is so intertwined, I wouldn't know who I was without it. Our home, our families, our friends, our cats, our neighborhood, our finances, our routine, our diet, our values, our bucket list. The way we've learned each other -- what makes him mad, what turns her on, what brightens his day, what calms her down. The way we've figured out how to run our household like a well-oiled machine (most of the time). How hard we worked to surmount huge challenges like buying a house, finishing grad school and wrestling through this peculiar endeavor of trying to conceive. And our memories! So many memories that are so precious, so priceless, I would never want to diminish their value by walking away.
I thought about all these things as I studied Philip's face from across the table. It wasn't so articulate, but the complex symphony of all our years together flashed through my thoughts, and I felt overwhelmed -- with gratitude, with satisfaction, with love.
And when we got home, we took advantage of the fact that my period did, in fact, wait to fully assail me until Monday. And that's all I'll say about that.
Friday, July 29, 2011
OPPOSITES ATTRACT
Lately Philip and I have been reflecting on how we've evolved as individuals over our eight years of being a couple — and how it seems either one or both of us has lost interest in many of the pastimes that first brought us together (live music, church leadership, theme parks, etc.). We have drifted apart from some of our mutual friends from the early days of our relationship, and we've made many new friends (some together but many individually). We've also picked up new hobbies that don't always overlap — Philip's interest in craft beer has increased exponentially, while I've gotten into, well, crafts. And it seems that with even the little decisions in life, we often don't align. I want to walk around the lake; he wants to run. I want pepperoni on my pizza; he wants a pile of veggies. He votes The Wire; I vote The Good Wife. He wants to try a brand-new restaurant; I want a meal that's tried-and-true. You get the idea.
So as our six-year wedding anniversary approached, I wasn't sure what we should do to celebrate. I contemplated taking a trip — travel continues to be the one shared interest that has brought us connection and renewal again and again. But with our anniversary sandwiched between two work trips for Philip, it seemed like too much.
Then I tried to guess things he'd like to do — activities that aren't necessarily my thing, but that I could psyche myself up to participate in for his sake. But that seemed a little martyrish, and besides, it's hard to truly enjoy something with someone when you know they're not really into it. And I didn't want to drag him along on what was solely my idea of a good time either.
So I had an idea: He can make a list of things that sound fun to him, totally putting out of his mind any thoughts like, "I shouldn't include this, because Erika may not like it." And I would do the same. Then we'd compare notes, see if there was any overlap, and come up with a plan. Even if our lists were completely opposite, we'd each get to do something we like individually, and we'd promise to have an open mind and good attitude about the other activities.
Philip, always wanting to please me, was skeptical. "I don't want to make a big list of things you don't want to do," he said. But ultimately, he played along, and here are our lists.
Erika:
- Rock Springs Run
- community pool
- Canaveral National Seashore
- massage
- get pizza from the food stand outside Redlight
- boat ride
- sleep in and eat cinnamon rolls
- watch our wedding video and read our vows
Philip:
- float down the springs
- relax with a massage
- head out to Canaveral National Seashore for some sand and sun
- enjoy a cocktail and some conversation @ Ravenous Pig
- check out volunteering @ the SPCA
- share a lunch at Pine 22, Social Chameleon, or Casa de las Empanadas
- nap!
- watch Verlander dominate on Sunday afternoon (translation: watch the Tigers baseball game)
- make like Clive and Juliana and stay the night at the Hard Rock Hotel (If you don't get this reference, you need to start watching Modern Family.)
It was pretty exciting to see how many ideas were the same or similar on our respective lists! Maybe we're not so different after all. Maybe sometimes it takes a little autonomy to uncover how much we really have in common.
We don't have a game plan yet, but whatever we end up doing, I'm pretty stoked for a chill "staycation" weekend in Orlando with my husband!
So as our six-year wedding anniversary approached, I wasn't sure what we should do to celebrate. I contemplated taking a trip — travel continues to be the one shared interest that has brought us connection and renewal again and again. But with our anniversary sandwiched between two work trips for Philip, it seemed like too much.
Then I tried to guess things he'd like to do — activities that aren't necessarily my thing, but that I could psyche myself up to participate in for his sake. But that seemed a little martyrish, and besides, it's hard to truly enjoy something with someone when you know they're not really into it. And I didn't want to drag him along on what was solely my idea of a good time either.
So I had an idea: He can make a list of things that sound fun to him, totally putting out of his mind any thoughts like, "I shouldn't include this, because Erika may not like it." And I would do the same. Then we'd compare notes, see if there was any overlap, and come up with a plan. Even if our lists were completely opposite, we'd each get to do something we like individually, and we'd promise to have an open mind and good attitude about the other activities.
Philip, always wanting to please me, was skeptical. "I don't want to make a big list of things you don't want to do," he said. But ultimately, he played along, and here are our lists.
Erika:
- Rock Springs Run
- community pool
- Canaveral National Seashore
- massage
- get pizza from the food stand outside Redlight
- boat ride
- sleep in and eat cinnamon rolls
- watch our wedding video and read our vows
Philip:
- float down the springs
- relax with a massage
- head out to Canaveral National Seashore for some sand and sun
- enjoy a cocktail and some conversation @ Ravenous Pig
- check out volunteering @ the SPCA
- share a lunch at Pine 22, Social Chameleon, or Casa de las Empanadas
- nap!
- watch Verlander dominate on Sunday afternoon (translation: watch the Tigers baseball game)
- make like Clive and Juliana and stay the night at the Hard Rock Hotel (If you don't get this reference, you need to start watching Modern Family.)
It was pretty exciting to see how many ideas were the same or similar on our respective lists! Maybe we're not so different after all. Maybe sometimes it takes a little autonomy to uncover how much we really have in common.
We don't have a game plan yet, but whatever we end up doing, I'm pretty stoked for a chill "staycation" weekend in Orlando with my husband!
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