First Things First

Friends, strangers, people of the internet: hello!

I am Dayton, and I am new to the blogging community. I must admit I was hesitant to join this community. Do we really need another person pouring out their life into all corners of the interwebs, expressing opinions, and sharing what eyeliner they're using every day? Probably not, but I hope this blog can provide much more than that.

I truly enjoy reading other people's blogs, so I don’t know why I’m so afraid to participate.

Every new year, I pray for a word the Lord wants to use as a banner for the year ahead. For 2017, my word is VICTORY. Whether it be victory over fear, victory over shame, or victory over some of my greatest aches, this year will be about victory.

This blog is victory over fear.

Despite my hesitation, here we are. I would love to tell a little about myself, my family, and how I ended up blogging even though I swore I never would.

I want to prepare you upfront that this blog will primarily deal with navigating the difficult journey of infertility. This is the season my husband and I are in right now, and this is what we would like to educate people on and invite people into with us.

Before we dive in head first, can I ask something of you?

I have been really private about our fertility struggles, because it is incredibly personal and incredibly painful. We have our squad of family and friends that have been our support, but neither Chris nor I run through the streets shouting about our fertility struggles. We are not ashamed, it's just difficult to talk about.

Basically, sharing our story is a little terrifying! It makes me nervous to let so many people into this with us.

What I am asking is this: Will you be kind to us? Will you consider whether the comment you leave or the message you send is truly encouraging and life giving? If we become vulnerable and open ourselves to you, will you consider doing the same for us?

That maybe a lot to ask, but I hope you feel like those are things you can so kindly and generously do for us.

In saying all of that, we are about to get very personal, very quickly. Are you ready?

 Deep breath... 

I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) in 2012. Five years ago I was told I had this endocrine disorder and I would have trouble conceiving and bearing children. That is essentially how the nurse diagnosed me, with very little information and very little explanation.

Here are some facts about PCOS.

I was single, in graduate school, and had no plans of having a baby anytime soon, so I tucked away this potentially devastating news in the back of my brain and decided I would worry about it when the time came. That sounds so neat and orderly, but as we all know, those fears creep in and out of our minds no matter how far we tuck them away.

I married my husband in 2015, and I had to begin confronting and handling the difficult channels of trying to conceive with PCOS. We knew that if we were able to have a child, it would take us much longer than other couples, so we sought a doctor right after we got married.

Two years later, we’ve endured many doctor appointments, hormones, prescriptions, ultrasounds, blood draws, testing, charting, negative pregnancy tests, tears, heartache, counseling sessions, and one major operation. Yet we have no child.

I feel exposed as I type that because it is so personal. That one short paragraph is a brief, mechanical summary of our heartache for the past two years.

Recently, my counselor talked to me about being an educator and finding empowerment in the duty of educating people about infertility. When it was initially suggested, I found the idea ridiculous.

Not only do we bear this heavy burden, but we also have to explain our grief to people? 

I feel emotionally exhausted on a daily basis, but I still need to explain to people how infertility is truly a loss?

This felt overwhelming and simply too much. However, as I arrived at a healthier place, I felt empowered to walk in this new role of educator.

One in eight couples suffers from infertility, so many people we know are truly in deep pain, and we need not be ignorant.

My hope is this blog will help people understand the pain of infertility. I pray it becomes a place of knowledge for those who are unfamiliar with infertility and a safe place to ask questions without judgement.

I also aspire for this to be a place of hope, encouragement, and empowerment for those that are on this difficult journey with us. I am so sorry we have this in common. However, I hope we can find healing in Truth by reminding ourselves that our worth comes from Jesus Christ, not whether our bodies can bring forth a child.

I do not want this to be a place where people come to feel sorry for me or start to correlate my identity with infertility. That is not the sum of who I am, therefore I refuse to let it become what I am known for. I do have experience and insight to share that may hopefully help us all become more aware and sensitive to those suffering through this pain.

I hope readers can recognize this is truly a complicated, ongoing grief that is in your social circle whether or not you are aware of it.

I found journaling to be a really helpful coping technique. Some of these posts will come straight from my journal. Some posts will be Scripture I have been praying during this journey.

 I hope to bring in guest writers to share their experiences as well, to have a rounder knowledge of infertility.

Lastly, I hope to connect to women (and men; husbands are hurting too!) who are walking through this pain. If you are local, reach out and let's get together to support one another. If you are reading this from a distance, shoot me a message and let's connect, talk, and encourage one another.

We have much to talk about, friends.

Ready to jump in with you all in my next post.

P.S. Bear with me as I figure out this whole blog thing. I am (sadly) still trying to figure out how to change the background color.