The Dark Room

I've had a fascination with old school photography my whole life.  My paternal grandfather was a ground-breaking photographer, developing chemical processes and guest lecturing for a major film company.

He passed away before I was born, and I was always fascinated with his life's work.

The dark room is the tricky part; the moment when you make it or break it.  Unprocessed film cannot be exposed to light, or it will be destroyed.  So, the photographer works in complete dark, a series of practiced motions leading them. 

Hands move without sight, opening canisters, winding film, placing in the processing tank, and sealing the film away again, safe from light and ready for the next step.

In the dark room, you need to trust your hands.  You need to follow the motions you've done before, confident that the practice, the process works. 

It will only be in the final steps that you will know if your hands have been true.  Everything from the moment you step in to the dark room to the moment you see the developer bring your film to life is an exercise in trusting the process. 

It's a leap of faith until the moment everything suddenly becomes visible.  Until then, it's all darkness, trust, and hope.

Since June, I've been sitting in the dark room of my soul.  No breaks of light or foreshadowing of great things.  Just the feel of my own hands working in the dark, moving through the motions I've spent a lifetime learning. 

Practicing blind trust because I feel no hope.  No grace.

In May, I was able to see and touch the relics of St. Gianna.  After the experience, I felt my chronic uterine inflammation (a piece in the infertility puzzle) was relieved.  With that relief, I was one katrillion percent certain a(nother) miracle was imminent and that I would be pregnant shortly.

As I sat in Mass, two days after the onset of a new cycle declaring a continuance of infertility, I physically felt my heart break, my soul shatter.

It was in the moment I entered the dark room.  I could see nothing, feel nothing.  Only the absence of miracles.

Since then, every Mass, every Confession, every prayer has been said from practice, from blind trust.  Not from any feeling of grace or goodness.

In the dark room, it's easy to doubt.  It's easy to think that perhaps it would be easier to just open the door and let the film spoil.

In the dark room, there's a lot of time to think.  In the moments when the dark room seems too much, I think about Mother Teresa.

Every time I do, I thank God her confidant didn't listen to her and throw away the letters detailing Mother Teresa's lifetime in the dark room.

She spent decades, acting on a faith she couldn't feel in her soul.  In her private writings, she details the pain of faith without tangible grace. 

The grace there, just outside the door of the dark room, constant and present, but unable to reach through.

I haven't wanted to talk about this darkness.  I've been hoping it would be relieved and I could put it behind me and move on to happier, more cheerful things.

But it hasn't lifted, and I wonder.  Who else is sitting in a dark room?

Do you know you're not alone?  I'm here, sitting in this room with you.  Trust the movements of your hands, trust the prayers spoken by rote but unfelt in your soul.  Trust, friend.  You are not alone.

The dark room cannot extinguish the truth or existence of the light.  The dark room is a part of the process. 

source

We need the dark room to keep the film safe, perhaps here our souls are resting and staying safe as well.  If only we trust the process.  Now our training will be what we lean on, and the stories of those who have braved this place before us.

Hold my hand, friend.  You are not in this room alone.

What Painting is Teaching Me

I've always said that I can't draw - can't paint. 

But, for our kids, we'll try things and do things we wouldn't do for ourselves. 

So, I've been drawing and painting saint dolls - because Sweet Pea is absolutely ENAMORED with her "Mawee dolls". 

These were last month's dolls - St Elizabeth of Hungary. 

Days and days of work. She ended up looking a little cranky, and from that I learned that next time the eyebrows need to be less severe. 

But you know what? I was really proud of how they turned out. All that free hand drawing and painting - and it turned into something recognizable!  Not perfect, but beautiful. 

This month, I'm working on four pieces for a nativity swap. 

None of them are exactly perfect, but again, all beautiful. All a little different. 

A new experience for this time painting was the addition of animals for the manger scene. I elected to do camels. 

The trick to these was that they had to be painted straight onto the raw wood. That meant no take-backs. Where the paint landed was where I had to go. 

So, I leaned in to it. I let go of perfection and worked with the paint, coaxing it along. 

As the camels' faces changed because of a particular brush stroke or grain of the wood, I had to let it go. I had to lean in to what that moment gave me. 

And right there, sitting on my couch with a bunch of toothpicks, paint brushes, and acrylics, it just hit me. 

I only got to where I needed to be when I let go and trusted my hand, when I worked with what I had and let it be enough. In the end, it became beautiful. 

If you need me, I'll be sitting here thinking about those implications for the rest of my life. 

What's Up Doc?

Talking hormone crashes and mood swings today =D

Last cycle, I had a bad reaction to my hcg injections - an entire day of morning sickness type symptoms before the onset of my new cycle.  It was a really rough, emotionally draining day.

I don't have to tell anyone who's been hoping for a new baby what it is to spend any amount of time thinking you might be pregnant, only to have your new cycle start approximately 3.2 seconds after finally taking the pregnancy test.  Rough, friends.  Rough.

It just cracked me last month.  So much so that I called my NaPro doctor immediately for a consult.  And I'm such a non-interventionist that I really veer more towards not calling when I should....so bad.

Today, I made the four hour round trip to go see my specialist.  We reviewed my hormone levels and decided that a switch from hcg to straight progesterone was warranted.  Turns out, my estradiol was perhaps too high to have hcg be an effective option, so the hope is that oral progesterone (YAY! NO MORE NEEDLES! For now at least.) will do the trick and create a better balance - and fewer side effects.

Aside from the awesomeness of switching from an injection to a pill, that pill costs about 20% of what the injections did, so yay for cost savings!

After some additional talking, my doctor felt that a blood draw to check my thyroid was in order.  Apparently, you shouldn't have to exercise two hours a day to lose any weight?  Is this true?  Who can verify?!  :)

So, right before lunch, on an empty stomach, I had a couple vials of blood drawn.  My face must have shown that the draw made me a little woozy, because the poor sweet nurse was very solicitous. 

Hoping for more answers.  Honestly, a poor test result would be a blessing just to have something to pin this conundrum on.  Seven to ten business days and I should have an answer either way.  Whether that leads to more testing or a treatment plan remains to be seen.

The other bonus:  progesterone is naturally anti-depressant/anti-anxiety, so I'm hoping I'll be back to feeling like my old self again after the rollercoaster of grief and hormonal substitutions.

In related news - 4 of the 5 women I prayed for at the relics of St. Gianna are pregnant! (I'd the be fifth and non-preggo.)  I told my mom that St. Gianna's success rate of 80% is a totally respectable number :)

Happy to have more answers today.  Hopeful that new protocols will yield a happier, more energetic me.  Balanced hormones make a world of difference.

The Last Prayer: Part 2

This is a fictional piece based on my experiences.  I hope you enjoy.  

*trigger warning* child loss, infertility, miscarriage

 

Part 1

If time had been slowing down, with the entry of Dr. K, everything now moved at double speed.  Like a general commanding her troops, the hospital suddenly whirled into motion.  

Within moments, Ava was being wheeled up to ultrasound.  There, the technician confirmed the worst case scenario; ruptured ectopic.  Dr. K hovered over the technician, instructing her to call down to the operating room, we were on our way.  As the technician said the words, "ectopic pregnancy", Dr. K bellowed from behind her, "RUPTURED ECTOPIC!"  

This lioness would save Ava's life.

Soon Ava found herself back with Dave in the exam room.  Ava's mother had arrived, and both were close by her side as four nurses struggled to find a vein that hadn't collapsed for an iv.  Ava lost track of the number of times she was poked and prodded, as the needles found no vein strong enough to bear their burden.  Finally, in desperation, a neonatal needle was placed and the race to surgery began.

As Ava was wheeled from the room, she turned with one last look at Dave and said, "Sheesh, I guess my body will do anything to adopt."  Dave managed a small chuckle through his fear as his wife was wheeled out of sight.

In the operating room, Ava was helped onto the operating table.  The nurses tried to talk her through what was going to happen next, but all Ava could focus on was the eminent pain relief of being put under.  As they told her she was going under, the last thing she remembered was their laughter as she said, "About f***ing time."  

to be continued...

The Last Prayer: Part 1

This is a fictional piece based on my experiences.  I hope you enjoy.  

*trigger warning* child loss, infertility, miscarriage

"Please, God", she thought.  It was all she could do to form those words, all she could think through the blood and tears.

What had been one blissful day of joy soon became a nightmare.  Ava wove in and out of coherence as she sat under the fluorescent lights of the emergency room.  Across the room, she saw what she thought must be grandparents, holding a coughing toddler.  A school-aged boy threw up in the next row.

Still, they didn't call her name.  She'd told the nurse she was bleeding, that she was pregnant.  She told her the pain stabbed her with every breath.

Still, she waited. 

One hour stretched to two.  Finally, in desperation, she sent Dave away, asking him to find her doctor.  He left her alone in the emergency room in search of her doctor's office across the complex.  "Please come, she's bleeding.  She's in a lot of pain.  They won't see us."

A nurse pulled Ava into an evaluation room, asked her where her pain was.  "Nine." She said calmly, barely conscious of her surroundings. "I was at a six when I brought my leg a few years ago.  This is worse."

The nurse eyed her skeptically, surely a "9" would be screaming, and sent her back to wait in the lobby again.

Dave returned.  Ava's doctor was in surgery, but the office would let her know the situation.

An hour later, things began to blur together.  Conversations became more difficult for Ava to understand.

Finally, after three hours, a nurse ushered her in to an exam room letting Ava know, "the on call doctor has five patients in front of you, then he'll be in to see you."

Ava lay back, in too much pain to do more than close her eyes against the waves of it.

As the nurse left her room, she heard Dr. K come screaming down the hall, "WHERE IS SHE?!"

In that moment, Ava had her first hope someone would save her.

to be continued....

Homeschool 2015-2016

I've been feeling a lack of motivation, even before the beginning of this school year. Usually this feeling doesn't hit me until February. 

I've been saying things like, "I can just run down to [local Catholic school] and register her..." to my husband. 

Oh, and I'm the president of my local homeschool group this year. *sends all kids to school - has tons of time to be a great president* 😂

With this general feeling of je ne sais quoi, I decided I need to strip the curriculum back to the bones this year. Reading - Writing - Religion - Math. Back to basics, focus on the important things is mantra for the year. Which I will second guess the whole way through I'm sure. I'll just have to avoid Pinterest and all those amazing homeschool pins. 

Here's what this year looks like:

St Joseph Baltimore Catechism No. 2 *Free from a friend*

Modern Curriculum Press - Level E *Purchased last year when I found a great deal ~ $30*

IEW Writing Level A 

*Borrowing from a friend*

*An extra that I found a deal on and requires nothing from me - LB opens the box and does the whole project and clean up herself ~ $215 for the year's subscription*

So, with the exception of the Green Kid's Crafts, which are pricey enough that I consider them a luxury, my school books for the year for LB are $30. 

Except there's one subject missing - Reading. 

Enter b&w Kindle. Found a great bundle deal on Amazon. It was $85 including tax. (To find it for yourself, stop by your favorite blogger friend with an affiliate link, click through to Amazon and search Kindle for Kids). 

We'll be borrowing books from the library with the Overdrive app and takings advantage of the free classics that can be downloaded as well. 

So what does your school year look like?

Pray for us, we're jumping back in!

A Muggy Saturday Outing

AThe grass is starting to grow a little slower, the days are getting shorter. Summer is waving farewell as thoughts turn to school and sweaters. 

In the midst of summer's long goodbye, we're squeezing what we can out of it with a family outing every weekend. 

This week, we checked out our local botanical center. 

The morning started like this. But, we made the effort to get things rolling, and here's what we got in return:

Giant banana leaves (complete with tiny bananas). 

Lily pads floating on the water. 

A tiny frog spotting. 

A monarch butterfly release. 

LB faced the creepy-crawly factor and let one walk on her. 

And a few more. 

Our fearless little Viking was not to be outdone. 

She let them crawl all over her. 

Until this one flew into her eye. Then she was all done!

The children's garden was our next stop. 

Big sister for the assist in reaching the flower cut out :)

The children's garden is a beautifully designed miniature Mississippi River. 

Complete with boat and alligators in the river delta. 

Working with the dams. 

If you think my kids just swore at you, I promise they're trying to tell you about this!!

Three dams over the Mississippi River Rapids allow boats safe passage. We live very close to one of these. 

Catfish are big in the Mississippi, but thankfully, this isn't to scale :)

An outdoors Connect 4 (or put every circle in like SP did) ended our trip. 

Their game was a little more competitive than SP and mine :)

And with one last goodbye to some newly hatched butterflies and their fellow caterpillars, we headed home to lunch. 

Glad we're soaking up the last drops of summer. Prayers that your summer has been equally family-filled.