tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32172808018885376212024-03-13T19:16:59.046-07:00Hannah's OathMelissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-46920776030253621282015-04-22T13:01:00.004-07:002015-04-22T13:01:46.820-07:00 Reading Between the Lines<div style="text-align: center;">
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<b>Two lines, that is all!</b></div>
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For them, I would give anything.</div>
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Not just one, but TWO......</div>
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<b><i>PLEASE</i></b>!</div>
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Two lines are all the hope I need.</div>
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Something to give me hope that we can build our family.</div>
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I want to wage war with my body.</div>
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I beg with it. I plead with it. Constantly.</div>
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Timing, testing, probing, needle sticks.</div>
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All in the name of two lines.</div>
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Waiting, hoping, yearning.</div>
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All in the name of two lines.</div>
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Something some women would curse as <i>unwanted?</i></div>
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Two lines.</div>
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Something most women take for <i>granted</i>?</div>
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Two lines.</div>
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Why does my world revolve around </div>
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<i>Two lines</i>?</div>
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<i>"Two, two, two, two..."</i></div>
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I chant to myself while holding the stick that could possibly change my life.</div>
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As if somehow cheering on the test will magically make another line appear.</div>
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Two lines.</div>
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<i>Two, two, two.</i></div>
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For so long, my life has revolved around TWO LINES!</div>
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Sometimes I wish I could be freed from the <i>obsession</i> of two lines.</div>
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TWO.</div>
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God, you are trying to teach me something in all of this.</div>
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I will do my humanly best to wait for You and what You are trying to teach me.</div>
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<i>Two lines, two lines, two lines</i></div>
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Quiet my mind and my soul, so that I may not focus only on the </div>
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TWO LINES!</div>
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Show me Your Glory and give me Your grace.</div>
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And help me to read <b>BETWEEN</b> the lines.</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b><big style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></big><em style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;">“I wait for the LORD, my soul waits, and in His word I hope; my soul waits for the Lord more than watchmen for the morning, more than watchmen for the morning.”</em><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><br style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" />Psalm 130:5-6</span></b></span></div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-69037987924606552162015-03-26T22:33:00.002-07:002015-03-27T06:56:12.066-07:00JUST RELAX!!! [And maybe your FSH will go down]: Things to Never Say to an Infertile Couple<div style="text-align: center;">
If your'e asking yourself</div>
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<i style="color: #c27ba0;">What the heck is </i>FSH<i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">?</span></i><i style="color: #c27ba0;"> </i>I rest my case.</div>
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If you aren't well-versed in all the medical terminology and the cycles of the human reproductive system...</div>
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Or if you aren't familiar with the THOUSANDS of acronyms that only someone in the infertile subculture would know, then</div>
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<i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">CHANCES ARE</span></i></div>
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you don't have the answers to your friend's infertility struggle.</div>
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Don't get me wrong, I get it [through grace and experience alone] that you are trying to help. </div>
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I've been there. Before my infertility journey began, I had friends and acquaintances who had difficulty getting pregnant. I am guilty of telling them the same things that can unknowingly <span style="color: #c27ba0;"><i>crush</i></span> the spirit of an infertile.</div>
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Infertile people experience the grief of losing something they never had.</div>
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Notice the conflict?</div>
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How can you lose something you never had?</div>
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And that is what sets the grief of infertility apart. It is hard for others to understand the grief of the loss of something someone never had in the first place. Therefore, the grief of infertility is mostly experienced inwardly by the affected person. </div>
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And so it is lonely. Very lonely.</div>
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We often cling to the <i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #c27ba0;">intangible</span></i>:</div>
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hope, dreams, desires, faith, perseverance.</div>
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The <i><span style="color: #c27ba0;">intangible</span></i> is what sees us through the loss of the <i style="color: #c27ba0;">tangible</i>:</div>
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a positive pregnancy test, a healthy pregnancy, a healthy baby.</div>
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In fact, one of my good friends with a history of infertility and I laughed today about how no one inspects toilet paper as much as an infertile woman! So true!</div>
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And I cannot put into words the feeling an infertile woman feels when she sees the <span style="color: #cc0000;"><b>crimson reminder </b></span>that she has once again lost the chance of having the <b><i>one thing</i></b> for which she would give <b><i>anything</i></b>.</div>
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Now that I have let you peek into the soul of an infertile woman, I leave you with this:</div>
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<b><span style="color: #c27ba0;">TOP THINGS TO NEVER SAY TO AN INFERTILE WOMAN</span></b></div>
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(things infertile women have heard [<b>and thought</b>] a <i>million </i>times)<br />
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<b>JUST RELAX!</b></div>
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<i>You would never say this to a cancer patient, so don't say it to us. Infertility involves a disruption in the normal function of one of the body's systems. And I can assure you there is no vacation relaxing enough to regulate hormones or thicken an endometrial lining.</i></div>
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<b>IF IT'S GOD'S WILL IT WILL HAPPEN</b></div>
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<i>Saying such things could potentially make the infertile woman feel as if they are inadequate in the eyes of God. </i><i>For, why would God allow others to get pregnant and not me? </i></div>
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<i>Am I doing something wrong? Is God punishing me? </i></div>
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<i>Does He think I won't be a good mother? </i></div>
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<i>We just want your prayers. Let us know that you pray for us!!</i></div>
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<b>JUST QUIT TRYING AND IT WILL HAPPEN</b></div>
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<i>I know your dear Aunt Sally said this worked for her. But, I will never stop trying. And if I ever stop trying, I will let you know. And I'd love it you respected that decision. </i></div>
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<b>YOU CAN BORROW ONE OF MY KIDS!</b></div>
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<i>We love your children. But, don't. Just don't. </i><br />
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<b>JUST GET REALLY DRUNK ONE NIGHT! IT WORKED FOR MY FRIEND!</b></div>
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<i>To my medical knowledge, intoxication will not regulate my hormones and stimulate my ovaries. But thank you, anyways.</i></div>
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<b>JUST ADOPT! YOU WILL PROBABLY GET PREGNANT ONCE YOU ADOPT!</b></div>
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<i>I can tell you that the majority of us support the idea of adoption. But if we haven't mentioned the "A" word to you, don't say it first. Because, we are likely holding out for the chance that we can conceive a child of our own. We know adoption is an option. But we also know it won't make our bodies cooperate with us. Plus, some of us have already spent THOUSANDS on infertility treatments. So our pocketbooks may be a little thin.</i></div>
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<b>UGH I'M SO DONE BEING PREGNANT!</b></div>
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<i>Beware to whom you utter these words! An infertile woman would spend 100 years being pregnant if she could. </i> </div>
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If you're left wondering what in the world TO say to an infertile person....well that's a good question. </div>
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I will tell you this: from my experience, NO WORDS ever made it better. </div>
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But I will <i>also</i> tell you <i>this</i>: infertile people WANT and NEED to talk about it! </div>
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We need your ears and your nods of understanding. </div>
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We need your sincere hugs. We need your prayers.</div>
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And sometimes, we just need your silence while we weep on your shoulder.</div>
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But most of all, we NEED you to NOT tell us to</div>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><b>JUST RELAX!</b></span></div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-1383585264735672802015-03-24T23:40:00.000-07:002015-03-25T16:16:31.407-07:00TO EVERYTHING: TURN, TURN, TURN<div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><i>There is a season, turn, turn, turn...</i></span></div>
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Tonight I wept. </div>
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I wept for a million reasons known, and a million unknown.<br />
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As Jacob and I enjoyed this beautiful weather today, we pretended to be pirates. </div>
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Make believe with my child!! The child I had wanted for so long...</div>
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It's such a humbling experience seeing the world through the eyes of a child.</div>
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I've been reading a book entitled "Boys Should Be Boys". It explains how we should allow boys to just BE BOYS. I really think there is no explaining what this means. You get the idea....scrapes on knees, broken bones, just pure dirty "boy-ness". The kind of "boy-ness" that makes a boy become a man you can be proud you raised.</div>
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So, in my inspiration to partake in the adventures of boyhood, I decided to be Captain Mommy. Jacob quite appropriately dubbed himself<br />
"Pirate Jacob Robert Tyson." </div>
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And so we spent the afternoon in dirty-kneed pirate-ness. We played it well. And I'm pretty sure he loved me all the more for it. <br />
Mommy getting dirty with him and talking like a pirate??!!?<br />
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What little boy could ask for more?</div>
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"Argggghhhh, Matey Jacob!!"</div>
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"Arggggghhh, Matey Mommy!!"</div>
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And then....I got a text from my wonderful mother-in-law. The woman responsible for raising the wonderful man that is my husband and the father of our son. Her text was in response to a series of pictures I had posted on Facebook about our Pirate Day...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxd5oU8qSe97F45DSum8x9tK1ZPVRxzb_r_rj8NXmtO5XOjObjrfhIBCd44kWyNHBW0EyPv4aaOEmGGxZ5nyyj6YOQRq6HbSz5I29qOHWKomd6vUtNk3HoDepit3-CseYXZoC8p-2_a45/s1600/pirate2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTxd5oU8qSe97F45DSum8x9tK1ZPVRxzb_r_rj8NXmtO5XOjObjrfhIBCd44kWyNHBW0EyPv4aaOEmGGxZ5nyyj6YOQRq6HbSz5I29qOHWKomd6vUtNk3HoDepit3-CseYXZoC8p-2_a45/s1600/pirate2.jpg" height="640" width="476" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpVD3eqz7EqLovMoSMO_VMR6ZcvqwX44mMdS0ZQTYj3tRQ7v5QzMvIo4h6QfaGXwhitLOtadJ6PzuZtrmGCmAifF52EEcz9SCPxh3R8etS8vFMnbPzzb57JFKKkPrKvXLC_Ya75xvjgP1/s1600/pirate1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggpVD3eqz7EqLovMoSMO_VMR6ZcvqwX44mMdS0ZQTYj3tRQ7v5QzMvIo4h6QfaGXwhitLOtadJ6PzuZtrmGCmAifF52EEcz9SCPxh3R8etS8vFMnbPzzb57JFKKkPrKvXLC_Ya75xvjgP1/s1600/pirate1.jpg" height="640" width="478" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Oh my goodness!!! </span><br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">Those pics remind me of when Jeremy was that age, and we would play in the backyard all the time!</span></div>
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That text stuck with me all day. </div>
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Because, I knew that 30 years down the road, I would remember this special pirate day.</div>
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And I thought to myself, "I hope Jacob remembers this pirate day."</div>
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Later this evening I told Jeremy how I just don't want Jacob to grow up. I mean, I had spent all this time praying and hoping for this special baby. And this "baby" was growing right before my very eyes. He would one day grow up, go to college, marry another woman. I wept at the thought that he could love another woman more than his mommy.</div>
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Yes, I know it is the way God intends it: for a man to leave his family and cleave to his wife.</div>
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But, a momma CAN CRY about it! (Thankyouverymuch)</div>
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<i><span style="color: #c27ba0; font-size: x-small;">**I PROMISE, FUTURE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW, I'm normal and all boy mommas have cried about it!**</span></i></div>
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I wept on my husband's shoulders.<br />
He laughed at first, possibly thinking <span style="color: #c27ba0;">this must be crazy, emotional woman talk</span>.<br />
But as I continued to weep on his chest he just quietly held me.</div>
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I wept for a million reasons...</div>
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My baby is growing up. MY BABY. I never thought I'd ever utter the words "my baby."</div>
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Then I thought of my infertility struggle. The endless emotions and pain.</div>
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And NOW our desire to have another baby puts us at risk for all the scary emotions that go along with it.</div>
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Then I thought of my friends who would give anything for a baby.</div>
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It's not fair. Life just isn't fair sometimes. </div>
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There. I said it. </div>
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Why is it that a couple that would make the BEST parents in the world can't have a child of their own? These are thoughts I also had when I was struggling to get pregnant.<br />
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WHY can't we have the answers?</div>
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Then, I kept hearing the Lord's voice in my spirit whispering.....</div>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #c27ba0;">IT'S A SEASON, MELISSA</span><span style="color: #a64d79;">.</span><br />
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Our pain is for a season. <br />
Every part of life we experience: a <span style="color: #c27ba0;">SEASON</span>.</div>
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This child for whom I longed to have will only be under my guidance and protection for: a <span style="color: #c27ba0;">SEASON</span>. </div>
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Jesus' life on Earth to show us the way to the Father: a <span style="color: #c27ba0;">SEASON</span>.</div>
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<span style="color: #c27ba0;">A SEASON</span><br />
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By pure definition of the word, a verse from Ecclesiastes in the Bible states it perfectly.<br />
<span style="color: #c27ba0;"><i>There is a time for everything under the heavens...</i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">There is a time for everything,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">and a season for every activity under the heavens:</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to be born and a time to die,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to plant and a time to uproot,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to kill and a time to heal,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to tear down and a time to build,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to weep and a time to laugh,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to mourn and a time to dance,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to search and a time to give up,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to keep and a time to throw away,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to tear and a time to mend,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to be silent and a time to speak,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time to love and a time to hate,</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); color: #c27ba0; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">a time for war and a time for peace.</span></div>
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~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8</div>
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A season, my friends. It's a season.</div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-59651556286862525902013-02-15T14:41:00.003-08:002013-02-19T13:54:54.578-08:00Motherhood in the Cinches<div style="text-align: center;">
Motherhood in the Cinches</div>
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Cinch (n. an extremely easy task).</div>
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Umm, I think not. Motherhood is far from a cinch.</div>
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Perhaps closer to a trench (n. a long, narrow ditch)?</div>
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Hmmm...I don't like the way that sounds, either. Although, I can certainly testify to the fact that it can feel that way at times.</div>
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Why is motherhood so tough sometimes? </div>
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Today, was admittedly a hard day for me. Maybe it was the fussy, not-feeling-well baby. Or the projectile spit up that saturated my shirt. Or the spit up x 3 that I had to clean out of the carpet today. Or the screaming baby that wouldn't go down for a nap. Or that pile of laundry that seems to keep staring at me mocking, <i>"I keep getting larger and larger, mhwahahaha!"</i></div>
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Whatever it may be, it was hard. </div>
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Let's be real, ladies. Motherhood is NOT an easy task. Why do we allow the Martha Stewarts and the Pinterest fad to brain wash us? Can we just all openly admit to not being perfect?</div>
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Please tell me I am not the only one who has ever <b><i>intended</i></b> on making that Pinterest-inspired recipe, donning that Pinterest-inspired outfit with the cute Pinterest-inspired hairdo to impress my husband when he gets home from work? </div>
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It's more like this:</div>
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<i>Take care of baby - check.</i></div>
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<i>Shower - eh, that can wait.</i></div>
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<i>Brush teeth - what's that?</i></div>
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<i>Husband - Call him at work and whine about hard day. </i></div>
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<i>Dinner - take-out?</i></div>
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<i>Take care of baby - check.</i></div>
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I'm not complaining, folks. I'm being real. Maybe we ladies and fellow mothers should shed all disguises of perfection, so that when we look at one another in secret desperation we can have confidence in the fact that <i>WE HAVE ALL BEEN THERE!</i></div>
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I may not end up the mother that makes all mothers in my son's classroom think,</div>
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<i> "Wow, she is Supermom!" </i> </div>
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Frankly, baking is not my forte and I don't execute cute little decorated cupcakes very well. </div>
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For that, Jacob, I apologize in advance. </div>
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But I do know this: God gives me grace to be the best mother I can be. My <i>son</i> gives me grace, even in his babyhood. For that, I am so grateful.</div>
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Now, I need to work on giving myself some grace. That's the hard part.</div>
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Oh, and did you know that cinch is also a verb?<br />
Yep.</div>
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Cinch (v. to fasten tightly, to make certain, to assure).</div>
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Motherhood in the CINCHES.</div>
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I choose to let go of my idea of perfection.</div>
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I choose to CINCH Jacob up with love and security by his imperfect, yet perfect-for-him mommy.</div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-5628311589977345202012-10-08T13:33:00.003-07:002015-03-25T15:49:08.790-07:00Happy TWO Months!<div style="text-align: center;">
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Happy <b><i>TWO</i></b> months</div>
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to my sweet angel baby...</div>
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<i>(Ok, I've wiped away my tears)</i></div>
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Two wonderful months ago...</div>
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you came to your Daddy and me on a hot August evening. It had been cloudy all day long, with a little rain. But your daddy noted that the sun came out just before your arrival.</div>
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That's what you are, sweet boy, to us. Our sunshine. You make our lives better.</div>
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Two amazing months ago...</div>
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Your daddy and I brought you home.</div>
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Nervous and wet behind the ears with this whole parenting thing. </div>
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We wanted to do right by this new little creature that was you. </div>
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You do know that parenting doesn't come with an instruction manual, right?</div>
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<i>(Your Daddy asked for one in the hospital...true story!) </i></div>
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I would like to think we have done a good job so far.</div>
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In two quickly-passing months...</div>
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You've learned to</div>
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stare at faces...</div>
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coo at mommy, daddy, and anyone else who will listen...</div>
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smile</div>
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<i>(though you wouldn't during this photo session, despite mommy's incessant attempts to illicit it with high pitched noises and goofy faces)...</i></div>
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Hold your head up while on your belly...<br />
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Until you fuss, pout, then resort to sucking on your hand.</div>
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Don't worry sweet boy, you will thank me for this one day! </div>
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<i>I promise!</i></div>
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Your favorite thing to do: Take a bath</div>
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Your favorite book: Hush Little Polar Bear</div>
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Your favorite place to go: Mommy and Daddy's arms</div>
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Your favorite object: Your pacifier</div>
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I realize that two months will eventually turn into</div>
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<i><b>two </b>years old</i></div>
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<i><b>second</b> grade</i></div>
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<i><b>secondary</b> school</i></div>
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<i><b>twenty-two</b> years old</i></div>
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<i><b>two </b>years of marriage</i></div>
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<i><b>two</b> kids</i> </div>
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So, I end with this: </div>
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a letter I wrote you a few nights ago as you slept soundly in all your baby glory.</div>
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It reads:</div>
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<i>To my sweet angel baby,</i></div>
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<i>You are 8 weeks and 1 day old today. I just walked out of your nursery to check on you. You are so sweet when you sleep. Lately, I've had many thoughts of you on my Mommy mind. I felt I needed to get a pen out to tell you. Since you can't understand my words with your young ears, I hope you can understand them later by reading about the things I want so badly to tell you now.</i></div>
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<i>I hope you know how much I love you. I wanted you for so long. Your Daddy and I had a tough time becoming pregnant. Looking back now, though, I think God was saving your sweet soul for Daddy and me. Dear son, I hope you know I loved you way before you were born! And, when <br />I found out I was pregnant with my miracle baby - oh, the joy! I want you to know that I pray for your future wife already. But, know that Mommy was the first woman to ever love you!!</i></div>
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<i>I paused from my writing to check on you on the video monitor... I see you taking your sweet little breaths and making your sweet little baby-grunt sounds. I just love you! I love the way you love to snuggle close to me; the way your soft baby skin feels; the way your baby skin smells; the way you smile your sweet baby gummy smile at Daddy and me...</i></div>
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<i>Sweet boy, I have so many hopes for you. Mostly, I hope you come to know Christ and love him with all your heart. I hope you always love others more than yourself. I hope you give freely of your time, love, and resources to those in need. I pray you find a godly woman to be your wife. And, I pray you love her and respect her like your Daddy does me. I pray you become a leader, and never a follower.</i></div>
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<i>Angelface, I can't wait to see you crawl, take your first steps, throw your first ball, win your first game, go to kindergarten, graduate, make new friends, go to college, get married, have babies...</i></div>
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<i>But for now, I am content sitting here listening to your baby noises. And, though I know I can't, my Mommy heart wants you to stay this young forever. I love you, baby boy! Always and forever. To the moon and stars and back. A million times!!</i></div>
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<i>Love, </i></div>
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<i>Mommy </i></div>
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-2102133043451043102012-10-07T19:07:00.005-07:002015-03-25T15:50:50.924-07:00A Promise Fulfilled, an Oath to Be Kept<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hello, there...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">No worries people! I did not fall off the face of the earth. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">You may be wondering where in the world I have been since last year. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Please, sit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Grab a cup of Joe, or whatever your drink of choice may be...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Join me as I take you on a voyage,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">the voyage that has brought me full circle back to this blog.</span>..</div>
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A couple days ago, the promise of cooler weather from our local meteorologists had me reminiscent of the struggles Jeremy and I had getting pregnant. It was last year, around this time, that we began seeing a fertility specialist in search of answers on why we weren't becoming pregnant.<br />
<br />
In my reminiscent and contemplative state, I logged onto my blog.<br />
Long neglected by its author, I noticed my poor blog hadn't been written upon since last December. December 5th, to be exact.<br />
<br />
The last title:<br />
<i>ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS</i><br />
<br />
<i> </i>Little did I know that...<br />
<i> </i><br />
<i> </i>Exactly two weeks later, on December 19th, we would receive news that changed our lives forever.<br />
<br />
My doctor's office had called me on that cold, rainy day with the three most precious words I have ever heard in all my life...<br />
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<i>YOU ARE PREGNANT...</i><br />
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All the hurt, pain, heartache, disappointment of the last several years were washed away on that rainy day.<br />
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To tell you the truth, I had taken several pregnancy tests at home the couple days before my blood test at the doctor. I just felt...different.<br />
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Want proof of my state of mind those days before my blood test?<br />
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Here you go...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaITVPnpUx1CwPMGPhWsplDc2JAt3USMW3pVwWoVU7UrBBa59jvg5fprI-sJgHA1GH9LEWonlKEFPmT6AepwjHrRfYE-gsJAH7BNCTxceE0NTcJMUlcGterfa8EJbrxxm5awV494N2r9ho/s1600/IMG_0811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaITVPnpUx1CwPMGPhWsplDc2JAt3USMW3pVwWoVU7UrBBa59jvg5fprI-sJgHA1GH9LEWonlKEFPmT6AepwjHrRfYE-gsJAH7BNCTxceE0NTcJMUlcGterfa8EJbrxxm5awV494N2r9ho/s320/IMG_0811.jpg" height="400" width="297" /></a></div>
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Count them.<br />
Yes, that's correct. <b><i>Seven</i></b> tests. And all say 'positive'.<br />
And I'm pretty sure I took more, but these are the ones I saved for photographic evidence.<br />
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(Funny what years of disappointment will do to you. I actually had doubts with these positive home pregnancy tests. I thought, "Maybe one of the shots I gave myself during treatment is giving me a false positive.")<br />
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But, alas, I knew <i>for sur</i>e after that phone call that is was <i>really</i> <i>true</i>! <br />
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I had always dreamed of the way I would tell Jeremy we were pregnant, and I finally had my chance. The best Christmas gift I gave my husband last year...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gYKja0qjradh6Xy4yJWBzV_BNjGJmWHPb988DcohasUk0lX6grCJlOMG41M9By_KLMr3Hwtfqb4a5LtZ7r-mLmsodz61aoD9uvZd29Nmj4tFoj_ZBg9inuygi8t2EUdR_eWt9W4fFVlJ/s1600/IMG_0813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2gYKja0qjradh6Xy4yJWBzV_BNjGJmWHPb988DcohasUk0lX6grCJlOMG41M9By_KLMr3Hwtfqb4a5LtZ7r-mLmsodz61aoD9uvZd29Nmj4tFoj_ZBg9inuygi8t2EUdR_eWt9W4fFVlJ/s320/IMG_0813.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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It took a while for the pregnancy to sink in for me. Once you have journeyed down the road of infertility, it is very difficult to shift gears.<br />
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And, I wanted so badly to continue writing on my blog. I had heard so much positive feedback and there were so many people that told me the blog was an inspiration to them during their infertility.<br />
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I just wasn't sure how to share the news on my blog or how to transition from a blog about infertility to a blog about pregnancy. It is hard to explain. I have regrets about it, I really do. I wanted to share the miraculous news and be a testament to God's goodness and faithfulness.<br />
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But I didn't...<br />
Forgive me? Thank you!<br />
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Now, I feel better and we can move on...<br />
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The pregnancy began sinking in eventually, as we watched our little miracle grow...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj570i5MWoFPREvraYrRVtkX16vO-bT4xXywx-3Vj1FqGs3BBRFxXmSqjKPYl6P5b-2MF2I5ChTF1O-vv7hr-XkLCfDV06UYllLqZKu49McW6N6z1ZSqdM2NXe-hgDexycEsRR76FiP32GJ/s1600/IMG_1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj570i5MWoFPREvraYrRVtkX16vO-bT4xXywx-3Vj1FqGs3BBRFxXmSqjKPYl6P5b-2MF2I5ChTF1O-vv7hr-XkLCfDV06UYllLqZKu49McW6N6z1ZSqdM2NXe-hgDexycEsRR76FiP32GJ/s320/IMG_1093.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilvV_2rUDKdsAiieAKHNXtLiLZkx5xUlUBzrkqIzYIyo083m3cK4YI8sasXna4QmHdmgirqYH0G3wpd9X7WFa7fhEjQ4GmVka07HsdtDkJb48hzzs3doo1T4PnI0EFa-_dT2jSgv5JzQ-r/s1600/IMG_0883.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4CpZv5p4ie53CAiihTNUqU0D0RJE-kLzEhB7nhA-NpF3fLy9qlJL689cLG4mCBbSoduwxtXifqfb7PmPB8mCPo8HyPPXtJBbdi65qBWlrYeofapCSEoOuTbTf81eNfjCHtO8ZisvE6-h7/s1600/IMG_0908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
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And shall I impress you with my ever growing belly?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimg4imJ-IApwbwRJBTzhgLGPtRkdPOCRbbpW8O3H42vuDROJxzlzpR4qOgKtTTEYwQxtn4ubqb5hAGOTZJb0q1f9GvZ54S6aglroD5VoG-32nZ8GmchZ20Z36Wt528kJxKRGO3yEP7viOm/s1600/IMG_0927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSV6JepckFqNJZ0etAN0ZHmbNz0QJpJwVLhzkMF4ICqmjvEk60SygwAZOtE3a8QRVyN_U-ytrCixLzqLXD3yHn-0J5yKetLb6mnXl_nLrfCPDnpTljXKKlOzIc7rZ4i-CRheSRrBV6rDNm/s1600/IMG_0969.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> </a></div>
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<br />
My pregnancy was complicated with bleeding and preterm contractions, so I was taken off work and put on bedrest at 21 weeks. It wasn't all fun and games, but it was well worth it.<br />
<br />
Because 37 weeks after our baby was conceived,<br />
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<br />
<br />
JACOB ROBERT TYSON<br />
was born on<br />
AUGUST 8th, 2012<br />
<br />
<br />
The best day of our lives --<br />
the day we became...<br />
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a <i>FAMILY OF THREE</i>! <br />
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So, you may be asking<br />
<i>Where now shall the direction of this blog go?</i><br />
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<br />
Well, remember that story in the Bible I told you about?<br />
The story about Hannah and her promise to God if He were to give her a son?<br />
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And she made a vow, saying:<br />
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<i><span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> Almighty, if you will only look on your servant’s misery and remember me</i>... <br />
He remembered me. <br />
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<i>and not forget your servant but give her a son</i>...<br />
<i> </i>He gave me a son.<i> </i><br />
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<i>then I will give him to the <span class="small-caps" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span> for all the days of his life...</i><br />
<i> </i>Now I must keep my promise to Him daily.<br />
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Have any of you moms ever contemplated what a profound thought this is?<br />
To daily give your child back to the Lord?<br />
To daily sacrifice your hopes, desires, dreams for this little child to the Lord?<br />
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It is quite profound, really.<br />
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My desire is for my son's life to be a testament of God's goodness, faithfulness, and loving kindness. <br />
So, continue to join me as I celebrate this little life God has given me.<br />
Join me as I learn to keep my oath.<br />
<br />
<i>A promise fulfilled!</i><br />
<br />
<i><b>An oath to be kept.</b></i><br />
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Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-68185548457961991742011-12-05T10:06:00.001-08:002011-12-05T10:50:36.779-08:00All I Want for Christmas...<div style="text-align: center;">
This has been quite a different holiday season for me, indeed. </div>
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During Thanksgiving, I started my medicated fertility cycle due to an unexpected early visit from Mother Nature...</div>
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So in the exciting, controlled chaos of planning a Thanksgiving meal and entertaining out of town family, I had to begin </div>
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<i>The blood work</i></div>
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<i>The sonograms</i></div>
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<i>The getting prescriptions filled.</i></div>
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In all honesty, I don't mind at all. What's a little bump in the Thanksgiving plan? It was totally worth it to see beloved family that we rarely get to see!</div>
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Plus, we got to indulge in the <strike>pepper</strike> green bean casserole that Jeremy made.</div>
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He accidentally put 1/4 <b><i>cup</i></b> of pepper in the casserole instead of 1/4 <i><b>teaspoon</b></i>! </div>
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But as I said, what are the holidays without a bump in the road?</div>
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We only ate one bite of the casserole, actually.</div>
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On a more serious note, the holiday season is not easy for me.</div>
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The phrase keeps playing over and over in my head... </div>
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(sometimes accompanied by the enthusiastic melody of the children's song) </div>
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<i>ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS ...</i></div>
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Things such as putting up the Christmas tree, hanging stockings, putting presents under the tree...</div>
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<i> </i></div>
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They are all a reminder of the child I want so badly. And I constantly envision my husband and me with a child... </div>
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<i>Putting up the Christmas tree, hanging stockings, opening presents. </i></div>
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It is all a painful reminder of what I don't have.</div>
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Don't get me wrong, I am not trying to complain. </div>
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Just being transparent.</div>
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Jeremy keeps asking me what I want for Christmas. I cannot think of any tangible item I need.</div>
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I can only think of one thing.</div>
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I was touched the other day when he again asked me,</div>
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"What do you want for Christmas?"</div>
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"A baby" I said. And he could sense the yearning in my voice.</div>
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He lovingly responded, "Babe, if I could give you that, I would."</div>
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I <b><i>will</i></b> say that this journey has made me be more thankful for the here and now. As stated above, my husband cannot change the future. <b><i> I</i></b> cannot change the future.</div>
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<i><b>We</b></i> cannot change the future.</div>
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But I know Someone who has a birthday coming up that <b>can</b></div>
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<i>Change the future, change us.</i></div>
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<br /></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-56106776943262265032011-11-19T11:19:00.001-08:002011-11-19T13:11:44.270-08:00An Intricate Design<div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">
Since my start of this infertility journey, I have had a new appreciation for the way God has designed us. There are so many intricate details that God designed in order for the woman's body to work in perfect harmony.</div>
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There are so many hormones ...</div>
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So many cycles of cellular life ...</div>
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Then there is the "perfect timing" ... </div>
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Just knowing all the many <i>DETAILS</i> God put into the art of procreation!</div>
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It is truly a miracle each and every time a woman conceives. I challenge you to research this process if you have never done so: the process of conception, pregnancy, and birth. You will have a new appreciation for life, I assure you!</div>
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That being said, I have at times struggled with being "mad" at my own body. Even talking to it sometimes.</div>
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"Ok ... get it right, body."</div>
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But why would I be mad at this body God chose to give me? The temple in which He chose my soul to dwell?</div>
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I suppose many other people have felt the same way: cancer patients, long-term illness patients, and so on.</div>
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Has anyone else ever had these feelings? Or even experienced these feelings in the name of a loved one who suffers? </div>
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Perhaps God is teaching me a lesson in all this. But, sometimes I struggle with the meaning of it all.</div>
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I don't have to feel alone, though. Did you know that over 7.3 million women in the USA alone have suffered from infertility?</div>
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Walking into my fertility clinic the other day, I saw many different women walk through the doors. Business women. Different nationalities. Short. Tall. Well-Dressed. Women who, in all appearances, seemed normal. My heart went out to them. I share their secret burden. I felt connected to women I didn't even know.</div>
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That day my RE explained that one of my hormones, AMH, indicated that I have diminished ovarian reserve. In other words, my ovaries do not function as they should for someone my age. </div>
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She told me that I don't have much time to waste, so she put me on a 'fast track" infertility treatment plan. </div>
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She plans to have me take an oral medication, Clomid, my next cycle in order to stimulate my ovaries. I will then have to get blood tests and sonograms to make sure my ovaries are responding well. When my follicles are large enough to release an egg, I will then take an injection of HcG in order to "force ovulation". Then, I will use ovulation test sticks (same as a pregnancy test) to know about the time I will ovulate. When I have a positive result, I have to call my fertility clinic and schedule a time for an IUI (intrauteine insemination).</div>
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And then we will wait ...</div>
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If that cycle does not result in a pregnancy, she will put me on more aggressive medication injections.</div>
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We will take it one day at a time, holding on to hope each and every step! </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Thank you all for your outpouring of love and support! We are truly humbled.</span></div>
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<br /></div>Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3217280801888537621.post-31989721930824204152011-11-08T20:31:00.000-08:002011-11-16T21:11:42.907-08:00The Revelation<br />
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Have you ever wanted something so badly that you would give <i>anything</i> for this particular thing?</div>
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Have you ever lain awake at night thinking ...</div>
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<i> "If only I had (fill in the blank), my life would be SO much better."</i></div>
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Have you ever begged, pleaded, even wrestled with God ...</div>
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<i>"If you can give me just this ONE thing, I PROMISE I will (fill in the blank)." </i> </div>
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If so, I can relate. I think we all can. My journey just may be a little different than yours. Or perhaps you are meandering down the same road as me.</div>
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As some of you may know, my husband and I have been wandering down the difficult and oftentimes very lonely path of...</div>
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<b><i>INFERTILITY.</i></b></div>
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There. I said it...<i>Phew</i>! If you are a friend or family member wondering why Jeremy and I have not joined the parenthood club yet, now you know. </div>
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I find myself talking about my journey to anyone who will listen (you know who you are). But, I rarely speak of the depth of emotions that can come along with it. </div>
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<i>"Why can't I get pregnant? What is wrong with me?"</i></div>
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<i>"Another baby shower?"</i></div>
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<i>"Another period?" </i></div>
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Low self worth, jealousy, heartbreak, desperation.</div>
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And the aforementioned feelings are only <i>scratching</i> the surface.</div>
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<br />
The other day, I received some news from my infertility specialist. In the world of infertility she is known as my Reproductive Endocrinologist, or RE. Getting back on track, this news was not the best of news regarding my fertility. I was heartbroken. Although it was nice to hear a reason for my inability to conceive over the last couple of years it felt like my world was crashing in on me.</div>
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And then... I heard a still small voice. </div>
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<i>"Melissa, I am allowing you to go through this trial, because I plan to change someone's life through YOU!"</i></div>
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Wow. A revelation. Truly.</div>
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In that instant, I began to view my situation differently. All the tears I have cried, the heartache I have felt, the loneliness I have endured...</div>
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It has all been in vain. </div>
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God's purpose for my suffering has been clearly stated:</div>
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<i><span class="woj">"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."</span></i></div>
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<i><span class="woj"> </span></i> </div>
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<span class="versetext" id="jas1-4" style="display: inline;">I firmly believe God is allowing me to go through this trial not only to test my faith, but to reveal His power to myself...and others.</span></div>
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<span class="versetext" id="jas1-4" style="display: inline;"> </span><span class="versetext" id="jas1-4" style="display: inline;">If you share this common bond of infertility with me, know this:</span></div>
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<span class="versetext" id="jas1-4" style="display: inline;"></span><i>“With man this is impossible, but with God <b>all</b> things are possible.”
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<span class="versetext" id="jas1-4" style="display: inline;"> </span><span class="versetext" id="jas1-4" style="display: inline;"></span></div>
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Lastly, I would like to share the story of Hannah in the Bible. I will make it short. </div>
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Hannah was a woman from the Old Testament that was one of two wives to Elkanah. The man's other wife was able to bear him many children. Hannah, on the other hand, was unable to bear him any children for many, many years. She was stricken with grief, loneliness, desperation...</div>
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Sound familiar?</div>
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In biblical times, barren women were highly looked down upon. They were considered <i>less than</i> women who could bear children.</div>
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Hannah spent many countless hours praying to God for a child:</div>
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<i>In her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the LORD, weeping bitterly. <sup></sup>And she made an [oath], saying, “LORD Almighty, if you will only look on
your servant’s misery and remember me, and not forget your servant but
give her a son, then I will give him to the LORD for all the days of his
life, and no razor will ever be used on his head.” </i></div>
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God eventually gave her a son, Samuel.</div>
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And Hannah kept her oath.<i></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hannah's oath, MY oath.</span></i></div>
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<br />Melissahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04619142513249206861noreply@blogger.com4