Broken Hearts and Broken Crayons

This Christmas I decided I wanted to make most of my niece and nephew’s Christmas gifts, instead of just buying them at the store. Lucas always looks at me with questioning eyes when I tell him about my crazy plans, I’m sure he wishes I’d just go to the store and buy stuff. Our house was in chaos the week before Christmas trying to finish everything, and we made about 50 trips to the craft store.

One project was my idea to make homemade crayons, now when I say homemade I mean semi-homemade. I bought some cute candy making molds (animals for Gavin, and butterflies for Maycee). I then gathered broken crayons I had lying around my craft room, put them in the mold, and baked them (find the directions for this here). It turned out to be an easy and super fun project, and they turned out so cute (sadly I did not take a picture of the finished product).

It’s been month’s since I’ve shared anything on this blog—it has not been months since I’ve wrote for the blog—those posts just never seemed to make into the public eye. I felt they were too dark, too pain-ridden, too whiney, too everything but hopeful, to share.

I thing this blog has saved me, because it has given me a reason to write, to open up my heart (broken as it may be), and to face my reality. My honesty and freeness in my writing has hurt people I love dearly in the past, which has made me question everything I’ve gone to share.

I’ve shut down for months now, I have rarely cried, I have begun swearing a lot more than I ever have, I have thrown myself full force into ANYTHING that could distract me from the pain. I have faltered as a wife, a sister, a daughter, an aunt…I have dropped the ball in regards to my responsibilities. I have tried to shape myself in a whole new way (physically, emotionally, and mentally). I have tried to numb the pain with nearly any method I could think of.

The truth is, the pain CAN be numbed, attention CAN be re-shifted, and your heart CAN be put on auto-pilot…but only temporarily.

December…as I sit here typing I can’t help but think what might have been.

This month, right now as I sit here typing, we would have our baby, had either of our embryos taken. We would have woken up on Christmas morning with a baby!

It’s hard for me to understand that it has been nine months since embryo transfer, it feels so fresh in my mind, it feels like I’ve had zero time to heal when in reality, it’s been nine months. I wish I could tell you that time has healed me, that I’ve gotten stronger with each passing day, that Lucas and I have only grown closer, that faith has pulled me through, that time has begun to heal my wounds…I wish so badly this was the case.

I wish I could FINALLY update you with glowing news that we have a plan, that we know our next step, that we are stronger than ever because of went we went through. This isn’t the truth though, and this blog has always been about sharing our journey openly and honestly.

I hold on to a seed of hope that someday soon, this will be our story.

I’m in a dark place in my life. I’m fighting to understand God’s plan for me, and I struggle to reach out to Him in my heartache. I know He loves me, as I have seen His tender mercies, (although I’m sure there are many I’ve missed). I know He’s there and loves me, even when I lack the strength to reach out to Him.

Many ask what they can do for Lucas and I, and the only answer I can think of us is to pray for us, because that is something we are struggling to do for ourselves right now.

Somedays I feel completely forgotten about by He who created me and loves me—I know I have not been forgotten, and I strive to feel His love a little more every day—every so microscopically. I’m a broken soul right now and I’m slowly finding new ways to fix me.

Lucas is struggling, the heartache is very real for him. I see the tears well up in his eye, I see his anger seep in, I see the heartache that he carries with him and yet I struggle to carry some of his burden and he mine…we’re both hurting.

The options are still the same, what’s on the table now is adoption, or using an egg donor through IVF, neither choice we hoped for, but it’s our reality. We both have to be ready for the next decision, we have to be on the same page, and God’s timing will dictate that.

There is this though, we will continue to fight, to hang on to ourselves, our goals, our hopes, our dreams, and most importantly…our marriage. We don’t know what’s next but we cling on to hope that we will find our way out of the darkness and find the answers we long for.

Any kind of loss is a battle. It’s going to war everyday with yourself, hoping that you will be properly armed against the daily reminders of what you can’t have, what you can’t control, what you can’t fix. Like this post, it’s not pretty, or elegant, or hopeful…it can be discouraging, and exhausting, and sad. I have faith that this will change, that someday we will understand the pain we feel today, that we will know the path designed for us.

I have learned that my timeline for healing is not reality, that my idea to set aside 9 months to get back to me is not long enough. I have learned that my healing might be a much longer recovery. No matter what any of us may be going through, we must learn to be patient with ourselves. We must take the time to heal, as long as that takes. We must be kind to ourselves in our broken state.

So what the heck is the homemade crayon story about, well it motivated me to write this. I am still very broken, but I’m still “coloring”, even in my broken state. I have grown to love a quote I discovered through this journey, it hangs in my office, and in my home, as a gentle reminder that it’s okay to be broken.

“Broken crayons still color”.