So Long, Old Friend

So, over the years, I have written a few blog posts about my ghetto car.  We've been through a lot together, this car and me.

There was the month that finally came that I had to register the car in Washington and figure out how to put a plate on the front (my older brother did it for me in the end...).

There was the time I had saved up money to buy a tv and instead ended up with snow tires (which have only been used once, I might add...).

And the time the doors froze shut on me and I stood in the driveway at my grandma's house bawling my eyes out.

Which led to the time I tried to prevent that occurrence and would back the car down the driveway and tuck it in at night (literally) and ended up busting my side-view mirror.

Yes, we've been through a lot together, that car and me.  And after over 8 years in my ownership -- and almost 80 thousand miles put on it by yours truly, it finally gave up the ghost.  Not on the best of days; but in the end, even that day the car was sort of taking care of me by dying how it did.  It died in our driveway rather than at my job or at the doctor's office or at the grocery store with a bunch of cold stuff waiting to be taken home to the refrigerator.

And yes, sometimes I complained about my car.  My car with the windows that wouldn't roll down.  My car with the weird metal piece laying at the base of the windshield (inside the car) that vibrated annoyingly, constantly.

But it was still sad to see it go.  And here's why:

That car saw me through two college degrees.

It took me to Dothan, Ashford, Tuscaloosa, Montgomery, Birmingham, Atlanta, Pensacola, Marianna, Valdosta, Ty Ty, Silverdale, Tacoma, Bellevue, Port Orchard, Poulsbo, Forks, Olympia, Tumwater, Belfair, and Bremerton.  Most of those many many times.

It kept limping along with water in its oil (probably the cause of it's demise), a radiator that leaked (and I had to fill up daily until Jeremy replaced the radiator last October), and the check engine light coming on because I refused to fix it (it ran better when the light was on, by the way).  It lived almost 2 years longer than Bob and Buck thought it would when they first discovered water in the oil.

It moved with me to 6 different addresses -- and helped move a lot of my stuff too.

It traveled through parts of Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Missouri, Illinois, Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho, and Washington as it came with me out West.

It was part of fun rides with my sister, my friends, my nieces and nephews, my husband, my dad.

That car was a blessing.  A $2500 blessing that never broke when I couldn't afford it, and always started when it was most crucial that it did.

And so, even though it was time for it to go, it was sad.  And so, I took pictures with my car on that last day.  I said goodbye to the holder of many memories.  And I write them here so I can hopefully always remember them.  I'm a nostalgic kind of person anyway, and I don't think there's a thing wrong with that :).

So goodbye, old friend.  And thanks for the memories :).
 

On a lighter note...  As part of the "getting rid of the car" thing, Jeremy cleaned everything out of it.  Including the MRE (meal ready to eat) I'd had in there for a few years.  You know, just in case some catastrophe occurred while I was in my car and I needed food to survive.  Jeremy isn't one to waste food.  Don't know if you know that or not.  My dad calls him "hoover."  Anyway, so we ate the MRE.  In celebration of turning over a new leaf in the car department.  Haha...

Here I am.  Still smiling.  Because I haven't eaten any of it yet.  Although the look of it alone was pretty horrifying, let me tell you.  Jeremy plated it up and heated it up (in the microwave, since we are choosing to save the heater packets for our 72-hour kits) while I was on the couch house-hunting online, and when I went into the kitchen when he declared it ready...  All I could say was, "That's disgusting."  But it's all about the experience, you know :).  So we shared it.

And here is what we ate (and for some reason every time I load it up, it turns sideways, so I gave up...):  "grilled" "chicken breast" with smoke flavored seasoning (visible on the "chicken breast"); "chicken stuffing" that held the shape of the package nicely (Jeremy said he should have fluffed it); wheat bread/cracker thing with jalapeno cheese sauce on top; orange drink mix; and an apple cranberry ranger bar.  The ranger bar was the best part.  Followed by the wheat bread thing with cheese sauce.  As for the rest of it...  Just allow my copious use of quotation remarks to speak for itself.  YIKES.  Jeremy said it was easier if you just didn't think of it as chicken.  Haha...  Gross.  Oh, and the gum.  It tasted pretty good, but started to fall apart in your mouth after about 20 minutes of chewing.  Gross.  Oh, and there had been M&Ms, but their package busted open and they were gross.  Plus, 3 year old chocolate doesn't hold up all that well...

But I'm a person who loves to make memories.  So this was fun -- though disgusting.  And so I had to take a picture you know :).  Oh, and yes... I was still in my pj's at noon that day.  It was Saturday.  And I had probably gotten out of bed about 1.5 hours before.  Lazy, huh?  Well, my husband is on swing shift and so that's how we roll :).  August will be different when he's back on days.

We opted to go to his parents' house for dinner on Saturday rather than worry with car shopping.  And the house we were hopeful for...  Being sold :(.  Heavy sigh.  But.  We did find out we should have no problem being approved for a loan (we've been pre-approved), so I think that's a marvelous first step :).  Now we just get to have the fun of house-hunting online until the right one turns up :)!  And we'll just keep growing our down payment in the meantime :).

And that is all.

Post-Op

**I apologize in advance for the length of this entry...  Had a lot to say, I guess.

I survived surgery.  Does that sound dramatic and stupid?  Especially with what is considered an "easy" procedure (and I'm thinking this is meant physically easy, not psychologically or emotionally).

I was really nervous about it.  I'd never had surgery or any form of anesthesia before.  And I'm such a worrier.  It's in my genes.  My mind was plagued with "what if I don't wake up" thoughts.  (Although, now that I've experienced it, that may be a preferable way to go compared to some other ways...).

So I didn't go to work yesterday (obviously).  Jeremy and I slept in until about 10.  He is on swing shift, so we are up late.  It is good to get that sleep-in time.  Plus, I think we needed it mentally.  At least I did.  I'd been prepped on what to do an not do.  So I hadn't eaten since about 11:45 the night before, and wouldn't be eating until after surgery.  I also had to shower before leaving -- to get off extra germs.  I opted to not wear contacts, and they said I should wear loose-fitting clothes, so I wore a big t-shirt and my loose pajama pants that I love.  And flip flops.  We got to the hospital at noon.  Keep in mind, my car is dead.  We've been trying to start it for the last 3 days, mostly just to move it so we can put Jeremy's car in our one parking spot, and no dice.  So we are driving Jeremy's little 1988 Honda Civic.  I will say, that car is a trooper.  It always starts.  So I checked in and they got me back to the surgery waiting rooms pretty quick.  I had my hospital tag on (first one ever -- well, since my own birth some 31+ years ago).  Got to strip down to nothing but a hospital gown and red socks.  Now there's some fun.  And they started my IV.  Another first.  (And in case any of you were wondering, none of these things were really on my bucket list...).  The nurse had to poke me twice.  The first vein she tried on the top of my hand blew.  And this was probably the worst part of the whole thing, to tell the truth.  So I ended up with my IV at my wrist, and for the first hour, it was sort of a nuisance.  It bothered and I could feel it quite a bit.  But that may have also actually been the vein that blew and that puncture that I was feeling.  The nurse was rather apologetic.  And though all that poking and stuff wasn't really my idea of fun, I know it was unpleasant for her too, and I wouldn't want her job!  So they got me set up and I was able to just lay there.  Jeremy was in with me the entire time until they took me into surgery.  He was actually very calming.  Well, for the most part.  There was the time he decided to play with the medical equipment and put the pulse measure thing on his finger... which automatically turns on the monitor and starts measuring and beeping his heart-rate.  I guess I got pretty excited ("Jeremy!  They're probably monitoring that from the nurse's station!" etc etc (they don't call me drill sergeant for nothing, ya know...)), because Jeremy was watching my IV and said I sucked up some liquid fast at that point.  Hmmm...  And just in case you have never had the privilege to have an IV... it results the same as drinking fluids (which I was not allowed to do at this time...):  I had to pee.  Sorry if that's uncouth.  But seriously.  So Jeremy had to go get a nurse who had to walk with me to the bathroom carrying the IV bags and tubing while I covered my derriere.  Good. Times.  But anyway, aside from the whole Jeremy putting the pulse thing on his finger and then making the machine alarm when he took it off (all I can say is don't leave a curious engineer in a hospital room for too long, even with his wife), he really did help keep my mind off things.  We talked about cars, houses, random stuff like the time he chopped into his finger to the bone with a machete, but figured he'd just wrap it up with tape and "not show Mom" (he was about 9), that we could use the McDonald's coupons on the way home if I felt like it.  And we used that time to read our scriptures (the Ensign) for the day, since we really didn't know how I'd feel later.

My surgery was originally scheduled for 1.  I think they finally took me out at 3:45 to take me into surgery.  I'm guessing the surgery started around 4:00.  All I remember was them having me lift myself onto the operating table from the hospital bed and slide up a little bit more.  And I was out.  I don't remember a thing after that.  And it's weird.  One reason the idea of alcohol has never appealed to me any way is the whole not remembering what I did with my body (or what someone else did with my body).  There are other reasons, of course.  One being my religion.  But that whole unknown thing...  Freaks. Me. Out.  So I'm not all gang-busters about the time I was knocked out.  But, I am happy to have woken up.  Which was the next thing I remembered.  I had talked briefly with the anesthesiologist before I went into the OR and I told him I was nervous and had never been under anesthesia or had surgery before.  He smiled and said he was having a good week.  Haha...  It's different, the whole sensation of waking up like that.  I was in a different place from where I last remembered.  I know I shed a couple of tears (which I hadn't anticipated doing) in front of the nurse as I asked what I had asked many people (including both doctors and a nurse from before):  was there any living baby inside?  I don't know why I would ask such a thing, and now I'm not even sure that I did ask it; or even if I asked it after waking up or maybe if I managed to ask it before I fell asleep.  Well, I do know why I would ask.  I was terrified of that possibility, even though I know what the ultrasound said.  That thought just seemed horrific to me.  "What if..."

Time was strange.  I don't know when I got out of surgery.  Jeremy said the doctor went and told him all was well; and then Jeremy called my dad to let him know I was in recovery.  Jeremy said he still waited about 45 minutes after that before they went and got him.  So I don't know how long I was out, really.  When I finally put my glasses on and saw a clock (while the nurse went for Jeremy), it was 5:10.  I found out I was legally under the influence for the next 24 hours (so much for work today, since I couldn't drive... and as it stands right now, I'm still legally under the influence for another hour -- guess there's a first time for everything!).  I got dressed after Jeremy was back with me and he signed the paperwork I wasn't allowed to sign (not legally binding in my state).  I wanted to use the bathroom before leaving, and I didn't want to use a wheelchair.  Well, Jeremy went for the car and told them to wheel me out.  Grr...  Although he probably did that because I was a little more wobbly than I thought and I whispered that to him so as not to let the nurse hear (but I guess he was the wrong one to whisper it to ;)).  I called and texted everyone to let them know all was well.  We did stop by McDonald's (my with my hospital wrist band still on and the gauze over the IV puncture spot...  I'm sure I was a sight).  And perhaps it seems odd for us to stop at McDonald's.  Well, this is the first time in the entire life of our relationship that we've gone to McD's.  And we have coupons I bought to support the Scouts.  And I wasn't going to cook dinner.  And I was hungry.  And so was Jeremy.  Though he never really said so, I know the day was emotionally and mentally taxing on him.  I know this, because he took a 3 hour nap after we ate dinner.  And after I cried more.  I have grieved this a lot.  I thought I had finished grieving.  But there were more tears last night.  The sorrow.  The loss.  The hurt.  Even if I know there is a reason for all of it (in the big picture of my life and the opportunities for growth I will be given), it is still sad.  Still disappointing.  I didn't anticipate so many tears.  Jeremy just sits with me and holds me and wipes my tears and tells me it will all be okay.  After I had calmed down, I just wanted a shower.  And that's when my sweet husband fell asleep on the couch.  After my shower, I laid in the bed and did some stuff on the computer and started to read.  But Jeremy woke up and came in and snuggled with me.  And so we slept until 10:30p.m. (thus I got 2 hours of sleep and he got about 3).  Then we got up and ate brownies and ice cream and started looking at cars.  We were back in bed by 2 this morning and slept until 10.  It's been an emotionally draining few days for us.

Because I could not drive, I did not go to work today.  But one of the realizations I had as I was crying last night was that I really didn't want to go to work today anyway.  I wanted to just be at home.  Be with my husband.  I feel better now.  But that's how I felt last night.  And as I reflect on this whole experience...  Well, truthfully...  Truthfully I have felt a lot of emotions.  Probably some (if not all) the stages of grief.  I realized as Jeremy was driving me to the hospital yesterday that I was angry.  Angry with my Heavenly Father for giving us this trial instead of giving us a healthy baby in January.  Angry that He would allow my car to die the very week we are already dealing with this.  And even angry with myself for failing us and our baby.  Because even if that isn't true, I still feel it at times.  And no, it's not right.  I have been blessed abundantly, and I still know what I know.  My Heavenly Father loves me and He loves Jeremy.  And He has a plan for us.  I don't understand why this is part of that plan.  But it is.  And one day, I will understand.  I don't feel so angry as I sit here now.  Perhaps that was short-lived.  But I did feel it.  And I don't want to.  I don't want this to make me bitter.  Life is hard.  Everyone has struggles and hardships.  And it is what we do with them that shows us who we are.  And so, after writing all this (and I hope this isn't disturbing or tasteless to write... this is a form of my journal, and this is my life and what I'm experiencing now.  And I realized that I really respect and appreciate the candidness on some of the blogs I read, and I am choosing to be candid here), I also want to end with some things I am truly thankful for.  That I have realized in the last week or so how grateful I am for them.

My dad.  My dad loves me.  He worries about me.  He called me Tuesday evening to tell me he saw the pictures of the house I showed him that Jeremy and I are looking at and that it looks nice.  Is that really why he called?  No.  I could tell.  I could tell by the gentleness he used in speaking with me.  I could tell by the way he said, "I love you, hon" when he hung up.  I could tell that he just wanted to hear his little girl's voice again before she had surgery.  And I love him for that.  He is a wonderful father.  And I married someone a lot like him.  And so I know I married a wonderful man who is a wonderful husband and will be a wonderful father.  I am also grateful that my dad foresaw a need for his children to learn how to drive a standard transmission.  He taught almost all of us how to drive one from the get-go; telling me that, if I could drive one of those, I could drive anything.  And look at how that has come in handy!  My car has quit twice now since I've been married to Jeremy, and we've had Jeremy's car as a back-up.  But what would I do if I didn't know how to drive a stick-shift?  Thank you Dad, for preparing me in that way.

Speaking of cars...  Okay, I'm 100% frustrated with the timing of my car dying.  But it's far better timing than if it had died 2 years ago.  I didn't have Jeremy in my life then, and I wouldn't have had the money to go buy a new one.  Both of those circumstances have changed.  And again, though it seems horrible to have this pile on top of an already difficult week, the truth is, because of the circumstances, I haven't driven Jeremy's car as much as I otherwise would have.  And he stresses over it because his car is older and it has a lot of wear and tear.  It burns oil pretty badly, and he worries the clutch could go out soon.  He doesn't feel safe with me driving that car, and he wants me in something more reliable.  So we hope to find something this weekend.  It is part of our prayers.  And I am reminded of a talk from the October 2011 Conference by Elder Cornish.  He spoke about prayer.  It was an awesome talk all around -- one of my all-time favorites now.  You can read it here if you so care to.  One of my favorite quotes from this talk is this:  "I am led to believe that our Heavenly Father loves us so much that the things that are important to us become important to Him, just because He loves us."  I believe that is true, too.  And so I believe that He will help us find the right vehicle.  And the right house that we can turn into a home.  I believe that, as we put forth our efforts, He will bless those efforts and be mindful of us in our endeavors.

I am thankful for Priesthood blessings.  I really was nervous about surgery.  I asked for and received a blessing of comfort and was assured that all would go well.  I am thankful for those who sacrifice to serve.

I am thankful for the job I have at this time -- and the boss I have.  I earn sick leave, and I know my boss is understanding.  She is awesome.  She is aware that I hope to have a family one day and I will quit work when that day comes.  She knows that.  And though she tells me often how much she doesn't want to lose me, she also tells me how much she supports my desires.  She once told me, "Hila, we work to live; we don't live to work."  She has never made me feel guilty for my plans to quit.  She hasn't penalized me for them.  She texted yesterday before I got out of surgery to find out how I was -- she is actually concerned for me.  What a great blessing that is!  That I don't have to worry that I will have problems for how much time I was off this week (I only worked one day).

And, as I always am, I am grateful for amazing supportive friends and family.  I have been richly blessed to know so many good people.  And it makes all the difference.

A Double Dose of Monday

It feels like I have had 2 Mondays in a row.

Yesterday, of the 5 bags of popcorn I bought (from the WinCo bulk section... I don't recommend them) only one was of any value.  One burned (okay, my fault) and 3 didn't inflate and pop more than a handful of popped kernels.  Which made us late to choir (and made me smell like burned popcorn).  (The Primary kids had earned a popcorn party).  Let's just say the air popper from my youth has never failed me.  Including yesterday.

Okay, so that's not so dramatic.  But it really soured my mood for the day.

Today I had a doctor's appointment to discuss options for moving forward since my body has not miscarried naturally.  Yippy skippy.  Most likely, I will have a D&C on Wednesday.  So, already a hard and emotional day.  But to add insult to injury, when I was trying to get to my appointment, I went out to my car to leave for the appointment; and my car chose today of all days to die for good.  We knew it was going to eventually.  But, really car?!?  Today?  And after I just added Jeremy to the car insurance and changed my name on it on Thursday?  And after I just put $40 worth of gas in you on Saturday?!?  Grrr...  So I was late to my appointment.  And now I'm driving Jeremy's car again. 

So I didn't bother going to work today.  I was going to, but my boss told me not to.  I'm thankful for an understanding boss.

And then I found out my cousin (you know her as Elka) is not coming to Washington for 3 years (or so).  Her husband got orders elsewhere.  And yes, that qualifies to go on my poopie Monday list.  Because I was pretty hopeful she was coming.  (I am, however, glad she knows where she's going and that she's going to get to be close to family there :)).

So yeah, today, in particular, was hard.  Very teary.  I guess it's to be expected.  Ups and downs.  But it's frustrating too.

So we are now looking for another vehicle.  We are going to think positively and hope we can fill up a mini-van with children.  We are opting to go ahead and buy one of those now.

In other positive news:

We are beginning the process of home-ownership (hopefully).  We will start with the trying to get pre-approved for a loan stuff.  We have found a house we like and that fits what we want.  We are hopeful; but I also know that, if it's not meant to be, it won't happen.  And I'm okay with that.  It is a big house (almost 3000 square feet).  It has a basement with a 2nd kitchen (I love the idea of a basement for summertime!).  It has a very short commute to where Jeremy works (definitely a must, since he rides his bike; and since we plan for me to stay home with our babies, I don't need to worry about a commute to work).  It has the amount of property we want (which, in the city, is hard to come by).  And it's in a quiet area.  It's a corner lot with a lot of trees and shrubbery; so again, though it's in the city, it seems secluded and private.  And we really like that.  As with everything, we know there are some cons.  It's an older house (1940) and so lead paint may be a concern.  We also could see (from the outside looking in) that we'll need to update the wiring.  We haven't been inside the house yet, so there may be more.  And you know, like I said... If it's not the right house, it's not the right house.  The right thing will come along.  But I'm excited about this house and we feel good about it.  Good enough to move forward, at least :).

Two of Jeremy's brothers took me shooting on the 4th of July.  Aside from a BB Gun, I'd never shot a gun.  But that day I shot a .22 and a .357 Magnum.  Okay, so I only shot the .357 once (that had some recoil!).  But I did shoot it :).  I didn't hit the target with that one, but I did hit the target (a paper plate about 40 to 50 feet away) 4 times with the .22.  I count that as decent for my first try :).  It was fun.

Brad and Angie came by for dinner last night and we enjoyed visiting and we are still enjoying Angie's fudgy "thinking of you" brownies :).

Jeremy and I enjoyed dinner at Applebee's on Saturday, followed up by Tillamook ice cream (chocolate peanut butter) and family videos from my family, circa 1984.  That was the summer we visited up here and we went to a State Park that Jeremy lived near.  I told him, "Wouldn't it have been funny if you had been at that very park on that very day!?!"  haha...  I'm sure it wasn't so.  But pretty cool that we were in such close proximity to each other (back when I was 3.5 and he wasn't quite 2 yet ;)).

I have strawberries, raspberries, and tomatoes growing at my grandma's house.  And the best part is that I am not doing much in the way of tending them; yet they are growing :).  I also was told about a raspberry bush near where I park for work that is located on County property where no on is living (and therefore they aren't being picked).  So I went and picked about 2.5 cups of them on Thursday!  I plan to pick more tomorrow afternoon too :).

So yeah, there's still lots of good things going on -- even in the midst of Mondays.  And there's even one more...  All you wonderful friends who have shared your love.  We love you :).  And we thank you :).

The Answer

So the question was "What is the ideal amount of time Hila should bake a bun in the oven?"

The answer is -- and will always be -- 9 months.

A more specific answer would have been "until January 25th."  That was my due date.

But Jeremy and I lost our baby.  And we found that out on Thursday.

I thought I was about 11 weeks pregnant when I went in for my first official doctor's appointment last Tuesday.  I had some concerns (like I had stopped feeling pregnant -- as in, my symptoms (of which there had never been many) had suddenly stopped, and a couple of other things.  I had even called the consulting nurse the Thursday before our wedding celebration, wondering if the sudden absence of symptoms was cause for alarm.  She said no.  I am a worrier by nature, so I was trying not to be.  So I just listened to what she said and went forward.  But still, there were concerns in the back of my mind.  I consulted my copy of "What to Expect When You're Expecting" for some of my concerns.  Hard to decide, since many of my concerns could go either way.  In the end, when I went in and talked to the doctor, he said we'd listen for a heart beat through the doppler thing.  We didn't hear one.  He scheduled me for an urgent ultrasound, which took place 2 days later (since the 4th fell in between).  And that's when I learned what I already feared:  our baby had stopped developing some time before.

All in all, we are holding up much better than I thought we would -- or at least much better than I thought I would.  Yes, tears were shed.  Many times.  And it is still up and down.  But I have felt such an outpouring of love and support from friends and family.  And even strangers.  The first person I told was a random woman who was checking out at the doctor while I was waiting to go in and talk with my doctor about next steps.  She saw me crying (she had a newborn baby boy in a car seat), and she came over to me and asked if I was pregnant.  I cried as I said, "No.  I was, but my baby stopped growing."  She hugged me and told me she was so sorry and that it had happened to her too.  I cannot tell you how much that meant to me -- this woman I have never before seen and probably never will again -- who was brave enough to ask a question and then express sincere compassion.  There is still so much good in this world.  I witness it almost daily; and for that, I am grateful.  I will never forget that moment.

In the days since, I have learned from many of my friends that they, too, have lost babies.  Friends I have known for a while and had no idea.  Truthfully, it's not a club anyone wants to join.  And so I guess not many wish to talk about it either.  Until someone else is touched by the tragedy of it, and then, the desire is to be supportive and loving and compassionate.  And for that, I am grateful.  It eases the burden somewhat to know I am not alone.  Not that I am glad these wonderful women have had to endure something so heart-breaking.  But to have them share, because they know where I am, having been there themselves...  It has helped me greatly.  One friend who has experienced two such losses in her life brought over cookie dough blizzards for us to eat as I talked.  Another, whose loss was very similar to ours, brought Jeremy and me a lemon tree -- because when life hands you lemons, you make lemonade.

Yes, I hope to one day understand why.  Because it hurts.  It is sad.  Jeremy and I had begun planning for our future.  I had a date for quitting work.  I was getting ready to start cross-stitching part of a poem I want to hang in the nursery.  I was getting excited about moving into a bigger home and starting to stock-pile diapers and wipes :).  I was looking forward to going to garage sales to find other baby items.  (Neutral, though, since we didn't plan on finding out if we were having a boy or a girl until the baby was born).  We were starting to discuss names and whether or not we thought we'd have a boy or a girl (Jeremy was sure it would be a girl).  I enjoyed looking at the weekly updates of what our baby was doing and how it was growing now.  And then, suddenly, those things were taken away.  And that is hard. 

But I also know that our Heavenly Father loves us.  And so, though it is hard and it is sad, I know He has a perfect plan for Jeremy and me.  I find it to be no coincidence that I got on facebook just a few minutes ago and saw my friend Jeni had posted a beautiful quote that I love.  I will post it here:

"The Lord compensates the faithful for every loss. That which is taken away from those who love the Lord will be added unto them in His own way. While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude." -Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin

How grateful I am to know that is true.  To know that the tears we have cried for our baby that we so wanted will be compensated for.  And that one day we will understand.  

In the meantime, I will be grateful for the blessings that have come, even from such an event as this.  I will be grateful for a wonderful husband who holds me and lets me cry and assures me that we will get through this together.  I am grateful to know that, as he and I do face the trials of life together, our bond will only become stronger and our love will become even deeper.  I am grateful for the kindness of others -- friends, family, and strangers alike.  I am grateful that I have gained understanding and compassion pertaining to this issue.  And I will count it a miracle that Jeremy and I know we can get pregnant.  Because that has been a long-standing concern of mine, due to my hormone imbalance.  And so, because we desire with all our hearts to be parents, we will try again; once my body is ready.  And we will hope.  We will hope for the beauty and blessing (and struggles) of parenthood.  And we will trust our Heavenly Father.  Even when it is hard.