Conclusion June 1, 2010
I’ve been writing this blog for a little over a year now and it’s been a great experience, mainly because of you, my reader-friends. It was a bit scary when I first started, but your comments were always supportive and understanding. I had no idea all the things I’d be writing about this past year. I just knew I wanted to talk about my experience with infertility and my start as a mother. Then I was suddenly pregnant again, and I got to share all about that and the birth of Micah Nathan this past February. I also wrote about my dad’s cancer and death. This past year has been one of major changes; writing the blog has forced me to spend time thinking it all through. And if the blog has been therapeutic, you all have been the counselors. It’s been wonderful to dump out my feelings and have you read them and remind me I’m not alone. Your encouraging words will stay with me for a long time.
I’ve decided to wrap up this blog for now and maybe start something new in the fall. I’ve written a lot about motherhood through the lens of infertility, which is a perspective I never want to forget. My history makes me grateful for the miracles I’ve been given and it helps me empathize with anyone still waiting to be a parent. At the same time, I’m ready to move forward and let the infertility chapter of my life be closed. I don’t want to dwell on the pain God has removed.
The Bible talks a lot about seasons and how there’s a proper time for everything. Ecclesiastes, one of my favorite books, says there is a time to be silent and a time to speak (3:7). I think I’ve said what I wanted, so maybe now is a time to be quiet. Ecclesiastes also says, “The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone?” (6:11). A talker like me should take wisdom like that to heart.
Thanks again for reading. Your comments have lifted my spirits more than you probably know. I also have to give a great big thank you to my sweet Adam, who set up my blog, maintained it (along with blogs for several other people), talked through lots of ideas with me, read every single post, and touched up all the photos. It’s pretty cool to be married to your favorite person on the planet.
I hope over this past year I’ve said something you’ve found encouraging. But more than that, I hope I’ve given glory to God. His opinion matters most of all.


PS – I couldn’t do my last post without tossing in a couple family photos. I just love these people so much!
Habits are hard to break for both kids and adults. Most of us here in America have access to all kinds of comfort. It’s a blessing until we go from simply enjoying something to becoming dependent on it. But where is that line? How do we know if we should try for moderation or just cut something out entirely?
to wish their children were older. We’re supposed to enjoy each stage for what it is, and I try to do that. But sometimes I wish Micah could talk. Like last week, for example. He was extra fussy and I couldn’t figure out why. He seemed to be over his cold, but he didn’t want me to put him down at all. I’d put him in the swing or on his play mat, but he’d only last a few minutes. Then he’d suddenly burst into tears like I’d abandoned him forever, so I’d pick him up again. Almost everything I accomplished last week was done with one hand.
It’s funny sometimes how God works. I wanted to encourage one or two of my MOPS friends with my little speech, and I hope that happened. But I was also talking to myself, reminding my forgetful brain of just how good I have it and how powerful my God really is.
her pediatrician said we should work towards giving up bottles, and I left that day thinking we would get around to that little project soon. But I let a couple months go by. Then my dad got sick and we left for Michigan, where Sky’s bottle became the last thing on my mind. We arrived home in time for the holidays and soon afterward, Micah was born. We could have worked on it then, but it seemed like cruel timing to take away one of Sky’s biggest comforts right after she’d given up her place as the only child in our family.