On Valentine’s Day in 2003 our dinner was surrounded by conversation of our future family. We talked excitedly about our plans – how many kids we would like to have, girls/boys, names. At that table, in that moment, we chose the name Alyssa Rose – little did we know that this name would still ring in our hearts on the day our little girl joined us. All this excitement launched us into our crazy new journey. We didn’t consult doctors at this point. We just filed away our knowledge of my medical history and got to work. After all, trying is supposed to be the fun part, right?
Now, let me remind you – at this point we were living in Vermont. We moved there to live AND work with my parents. If anyone has ever worked with a spouse, you know how tenuous life can be. Add to that the dynamics of parents, children, in-laws and spouses working AND living together and you can guess at the stress that existed some days for everyone. Brian felt especially stressed; for as grateful as he was, he felt incompetent as a provider.
Fortunately, God knew what was best. He provided Brian with an excellent opportunity to accept a job outside the family business. It was something in a field he was interested in and close to the education he received in college. It was an awesome thing for him. It allowed him separation and it let him begin to feel like himself and give him a feeling of control over life. It also gave us a little more peace about our future, knowing that we could forge forward without relying on my parents.
After several months we weren’t pregnant. People tried to be encouraging; “don’t worry, it doesn’t always happen right away” and “it can take awhile” and “you need to give it at least a year”. Well, after a year, I started hating the pregnancy tests. Negative. They were always negative. It was frustrating and annoying and painful and confusing all rolled into one. I called the doctor.
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