I'm just so overwhelmed. My husband and I have decided not to TTC again for awhile. Well.... I'm going to be really honest about it.... in a lot of ways it is my husband who made that decision. We had a discussion about it and it's really clear to me that it's not something that he's ready for at the moment. I made the decision to go along with it for now because I don't want it to happen until it's the right time for it, and if he's not ready, then we're not ready. I must admit though, I'm struggling with it. My heart is breaking. The points that he made are definitely valid ones though and in my mind I know that he's right this time, that we should wait for a little while and the time will be right when it's right. Normally I am a fairly patient person, but this time I feel like asking every day, is it right now?? Is now the time?? I KNOW it's not in my head, but my heart tells me something else.

When I found out I was pregnant with Ricky it felt like a miracle. We weren't actively TTC (I mean, we weren't charting and temping and all of that stuff.) But for 4 years we used no form of BC or anything like that. I really started to believe that maybe something was wrong, maybe we would never have children or we would have to go through fertility treatment or something in order to have children. Then I was pregnant. Unexpectedly, blissfully pregnant. It felt like a miracle. Then our family was hit by tragedy when my MIL became very ill very quickly and passed away a few weeks later. The pregnancy felt even more like a miracle then. Like something beautiful and wonderful that the entire family was clinging to in the face of tragedy. Then he was gone. So quickly that beautiful little life left us. And now I'm here..... feeling like I got only half a miracle.

I know what I need to do... I need to address my husband's fears and work to resolve them, or at least to get them to a point where compromise is possible. He wants kids, he just doesn't see how it will work right now. I need to show him that it WILL work. We've agreed that if we can get to that point where he can see a light at the end of the tunnel... where he can feel comfortable and happy bringing a child into our lives... that we will seriously start TTC, no holds barred. That we will start TTC even if it means seeing Drs and getting treatments, whatever it takes. But how can I make that happen? I'm just tired. I'm so so tired and I don't know what to do about it, I don't know how to make it work.

I'm a firm believer in the old adage that God helps those who help themselves. I'm trying.... I don't know how to help myself anymore. I just don't know what to do or where to go from here. I'm trying to live again.... trying to find joy again... trying to find that passion for life again.... but I just can't find it. Maybe I'm looking in the wrong place. I just wish I could recognize myself again.

It's time to start living again. It's time to start searching for a new job.... to start seriously trying to create an addition to our family again... to start enjoying the simple pleasures of life again. I have been standing still since the day that we lost Ricky, not trying, or even wanting to try to move from this place of pain and desperation. "To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." Perhaps my time of mourning is not over, but I do recognize that it is time to move on to the next stage. It's not that I haven't seen the world's beauty since I lost him. I've seen it. I've even basked in it on occasion. It just didn't feel 'real' to me. It wasn't tangible anymore. I have laughed, but my laughter has been hollow. Only my pain has been honest. Only my heartache has been corporeal. It's time to move away from that.

Part of me doesn't want to leave this place. I want to sit here alone with the memory of my son. I know that I can't do that. I can't do that to myself and I can't do that to his memory.

Movement..... velocity.... it is time.

I wanted to share a poem with you. Perhaps it is a bit somber, a bit depressing, but it is a reflection of where I am right now. If I've learned nothing else through this process, I've learned that we must feel what we feel when we feel it, otherwise anger, fear, and bitterness will consume our lives.


Can anyone see me?

I wear a mask, it's true
please look beyond it
recognize my pain
it's the only thing I see
when I look at my own reflection

Can anyone hear me?

to you it is but a wimper
please listen more closely
hear my deep despair
it's the only thing I hear
when everything else is quiet

Can anyone touch me?

perhaps this wall is just too high
please reach a bit further
touch my inner affliction
it's the only thing I feel
when I am alone in the darkness

Can anyone help me?

I shut you out in fear and pain
please break through my defenses
help pull me from this desolation
it's the only thing I see
it's the only thing I hear
it's the only thing I feel
inside of myself

Lisa J.
July 14, 2006

I enjoy this house, my home. It's quite big by Dutch standards.... three bedrooms, a good size bathroom, a garage and a little garden shed. My husband grew up in this house. He is the youngest of eight children! I'm sure there are just so many stories that these walls could tell about the family of ten that once filled this house. It really is a house that deserves to have children in it. It is in the middle of a small city. Most of the people living in this city look out their front window and see only a street and other houses. I, on the other hand, look out my front window and see a large field of green, full of animals and trees. I am, and probably always will be, a 'country girl' so it makes me happy to have deer and a donkey and peacocks and chickens and goats and llamas and wallabies and fuzzy little bunnies as neighbors, especially since I don't have the option of living in the middle of nowhere. I love my home. It keeps me warm and safe. It's walls are filled with love and laughter. And yes, it would be the perfect home for a child to grow up in. Oh I do hope that I get that chance, that I have that experience in my life. What a blessing it is to live here, in this house that has become my home.

I've been feeling quite 'homesick' lately for America. It's not the place that I long for, but the people. My family... my blood. This is the place that life has led me though, this is my home. There are still times when I feel like I'm living in a 'foreign' land. Times when I am frustrated by the language and the customs and the many small differences that can only been seen after living here. Times when I long for the familiarity of my childhood land. But then I walk in this house and here, everything is familiar. This house is not America, but it's also not Holland. It's a beautiful combination of the two people living inside of it. To most people it is 'nothing special.' I mean, there are still parts of this house that have not been redecorated since 19 73. It doesn't matter though, not to me. To me it is the most special place on earth.... the best home I could ever ask for.

Happy Birthday America!

(and Happy Birthday to my brother too!)

Although I'm not there, I still normally celebrate the holiday in some way. Well, this year the time just got away from me. I didn't even REALIZE that today was the 4th of July until yesterday. Oh, where has the time gone?

Well, it's too hot to do anything today anyway. Too hot for a BBQ, too hot to go outside, too hot to even MOVE today.

I had my first appointment with a councilor yesterday. It went REALLY well. I was afraid to go, but I'm glad that I did. After I got home I broke down a bit.... too many emotions brought to the surface during that 30 minute conversation. It wasn't a bad thing though, in fact that little break down is probably just what I needed. Afterwards I fell asleep on the couch just from sheer emotional exhaustion. After a two hour nap I woke feeling refreshed and renewed and ready to face life again. Since then I've been feeling GREAT! I know that I still have some work to do, still have some grieving to do, still have some talking to do BUT the relief that I'm feeling right now is a giant step in the right direction. It was nice having someone to talk and not feeling worried that I might cause hurt feelings or bring up painful subjects.

For the first time in weeks I feel like I'm going to make it! There IS a light at the end of the tunnel. I can breathe again.