One thing I really struggled with was that the fertility problems were all mine, not Rogene's.  I had grieved over my infertility, and made my peace with it.  I could live with never having a biological child of my own, but it hurt so much to know that I was the reason that Rogene wouldn't ever have a biological child of his own.  He never made me feel bad, and was always supportive.  But I felt TERRIBLE about it.  There are no words to describe it.

I had my share of mortifying moments.  People really care and want to let you know they are interested, but they do all the things that make infertile people crazy.  Like saying "relax" and it will happen.  Sign up to adopt and you'll get pregnant.  Ug! 

We actually went to a party (while in the middle of our IUI failures and while I was all crazy-insane on fertility drugs) where the host couple announced that they were pregnant (again!) and then asked me loudly how the fertility treatments were going.  It was a very surreal moment for me.  Of course I was happy for them, but when you are infertile it is hard to hear about how easily your friends get pregnant.  And then to be asked in PUBLIC with lots of friends and strangers around (who maybe didn't know what you'd been up to fertility-wise) was truly mortifying.  It was one of those times where you want the ground to open up and swallow you whole just so you can get out of there fast.

So, I embraced the decision to adopt and started researching it online right away.  We read books, talked to trusted friends who had adopted and picked out an adoption agency.  I was lucky enough to share an office at work with a wonderful woman who had adopted from China and she had so much good information for me.   She was so supportive, it was the perfect environment to be in while starting the adoption process.

We made an appointment for our first pre-adoption class.  We paid the fee.  I knew the wait was going to be long, but I was really excited about having all that time to prepare everything for the baby's arrival.  I looked at the time (maybe 2 years?) as time to spend  with my husband having fun and travelling, setting up a nursery, and anticipating what our new life would be like.  Even though I was a long time infertile (I referred to myself in my head as "Infertile Girl!") I didn't feel a huge rush to get through the adoption process.  I was fine with a two year wait.

Meanwhile, I was really enjoying my restored health after the surgery.  My quality of life (after surviving the hard part) was better than before the surgery, and I felt better than I had in years.  I had struggled with painful cramps every month since I was a teenager, and suddenly that pain was GONE. 

The big day came for our first adoption class, but I was feeling kinda yucky, so we decided to reschedule it.  I was still feeling yucky a few days later and thought that it was a very bad case of PMS.  I finally got out the calendar to see where I was in my cycle and realized that I was late by one day.  I didn't say anything to anyone, even my husband because truthfully, I had a hard time handling my own pain regarding pregnancy (or lack thereof) and really couldn't handle disappointing anyone else on top of it.  No need to give anyone false hope, right?  So I kept my little secret and decided to wait until I was 5 days late.  I should mention that I had never been late one single time, except the first month I started on progesterone… and that was only a side effect OF the progesterone.

So, I sweated it out for 5 days.  I asked my boss for the afternoon off, so I could sneak to the store to buy a pregnancy test all by myself.  Then I went home to take the test. Which I did.  And it was positive.  I had two pink lines in the window instantly.  One line was lighter colored than the other so I even CALLED THE COMPANY that made the test just to be sure.  Then I did two more tests.  To be sure.  I was in shock!  I wasn't on any fertility drugs.  No ART.  Nothing. 

I should note that one of the things I felt infertility had "cheated" me out of was the opportunity to surprise my husband with the news that we were going to have a baby.  Isn't it amazing how God works?  I got to surprise him after all!  Too bad I was such a blubbering mess that when I showed him the 3 positive home pregnancy tests I had taken he didn't know what they meant and I had to explain that WE WERE GOING TO HAVE A BABY!

I just have to stop here and say what a blessing Dr. Meticulous was.  His careful, thorough approach to my surgery and recovery and, well, everything regarding my health and fertility… his God given talent, is ultimately what helped us achieve pregnancy.  You'd think that having one less ovary and fallopian tube would have hurt my fertility, when actually the opposite was true.  God used Dr. Meticulous to get that diseased ovary, fallopian tube and all that endometriosis out of me which ultimately restored my fertility.

After we finally announced our pregnancy to our family, church family and friends, you would totally not believe how many people told us they had been praying for us to have a baby.  God was listening, people.  He answers prayers. 

(The pregnancy, and all its challenges, is a story for another day.)

One of the things I've learned from all of this is that God is good.  He gives me things that are so much better than what I would have picked out for myself, but he does give them in His own time (which is usually about 10 years longer wait than I would like… haha).  I can think of so many examples of this… but the best examples are my wonderful husband and two sweet daughters.

Infertility is something that doesn't leave you just because you've had a baby.  It is part of you.  I still get newsletters and emails from the infertility support group Resolve.  They are a great resource and wonderful support for families going through infertility.  I read this poem in one of their mailings, and to this day I cannot read it without crying.  (I do not know what specific newsletter it was in, and I don't know the name of the author.)  If you have never experienced infertility I don't think you will understand it, but if you have, it really hits you.  (I didn't have a mug, I had a special pen that I used to record my basal body temperature for several years… but the idea is the same.  The pen or the cup or whatever represents hope to you.)

Poem for the Broken Cup

The way I winced as my elbow hit it,
then even before it hit the floor
the frenzy of weeping, astonishing

the children, who stared in stunned
silence for fully five seconds before
the baby wailed in fear and David

joined in sympathy while I dried my
eyes and tried to explain to him, to
ease the terror my tears had caused:

Not the cup, I said, though the cup
was lovely, white mellowed these nine
years to cream, with it's Potter

pictures of Peter Rabbit, and the
sweet frieze of green leaves on the
handle:  not the cup, but it was

yours, I bought it for you four years
before you were born, just at the very
beginning, just when we were starting

to recognize that getting you was going
to take more than simply making
love:  and all those barren years

in Queens, I used to drink my morning
coffee from that cup as though that cup
was magic, as though it could change

things - And I started to cry again,
closing my eyes against his frightened
uncomprehending face:  the scalding

realization that even though I have them
now, these two, the scars of those years
are still with me and always will be:

and standing in spilled milk and shards
of china, crying and not even trying to stop,
scaring my children, I cried "My Cup!  The Cup!"

We've had four pregnancies, three miscarriages and two healthy babies since our infertility days ended (Emma was a twin).  We are so blessed. 

**Special thanks to my parents who were very generous with money and very frugal with advice. 

***Thanks also to my friend Stacie who listened to everything I was going through for 10 years (seriously, the nitty gritty details) without judging me and for never once saying something hurtful like "just relax".  When I found out I was pregnant and called Stacie, she cried, and it literally is one of my sweetest memories because even though she had never personally experienced infertility, she really knew what this pregnancy meant to us. 

Dear Emma,

Happy 18 Month Birthday!

The weather was finally nice enough to let you try out the trampoline.  You loved it!  You create static electricity up there and your hair stands on end, which is way fun for your daddy and I to watch.

Your daddy helps you jump on the bed, and when he stops for a second you say "mo", which means more!more!more!rightnow!morejumping!immediately!

We catch you playing with things that you shouldn't be touching quite often.  A few days ago I was cleaning the bathroom and had moved the toilet brush and holder to the hallway.  The bathroom floor was drying after being washed so I hadn't moved the toilet brush back into the bathroom yet.  You toddled down the hallway and I heard Tessa scream, "Emma has the toilet brush!"  Both daddy and I yelled, "Emma don't play with the toilet brush!", which must have startled you because you came running into the living room with the toilet brush in your hand and you threw it down on the floor like it was a hot potato.  We all laughed like crazy and were grossed out all at the same time.

You've been teething a lot this month, including the weekend we went yurt camping at the coast.  When we aimed a flashlight down your angry little scream-hole* we saw that you have your first two molars and are working on a third.  Plus, I'm not positive but it appears you might be getting an eye tooth.  I've seen this face a lot this month. 

"Pick me up!  Whaaaaaaaaa!"

You like to say "up" while standing up, and then "down" while squatting down.  This is a very fun game for you and we play it a lot.  Peek-a-boo is a big favorite this month too.

Your vocabulary has really grown this month, so much that I probably can't keep listing all the new words that you can say.  You can sing a song now!  If You're Happy and You Know It Clap Your Hands.  You also like to sing along to "Rattlesnake Bit the  Baby" adding the "no" and "ha ha ha ha ha" parts just like Harper does in this video.

You are developing an attitude, as all toddlers do, and have been experimenting with some minor tantrum-y behavior. I'm not positive but I may have permanent hearing damage from your scream-fests crying.  Luckily, I find your attitude amusing so I get a good laugh out of things that would have freaked me out when Tessa was your age.

If I had to tell what your favorite food is this month (other than cookies) I'd have to say rice.  "Wri wri wri wri wri" is how you say it.  You eat rice at least once a day.  A girl after your daddy's own heart.

Your nicknames this month are Cuddlebunny, Cootiebug, Snugglebunny, Emma Yemma Ding Dong, Eh-muh (said in a whiny voice), Tofutti, Elmoid, Cruddyface (still true), Pooh, Little Pooh, Snugglebucket and Little Moon Pie.

I sat Tessa down this month and explained to her that you could be a playmate for her.  That the two of you could play together.  A light bulb went off over her head and the two of you have been getting along better this month than any other month so far.  The two of you trade toys in the car now, and hand things back and forth between your car seats.  Tessa still likes to put her arms around you and drag you to the floor hug you and take away pretty much anything you have in your hands share her toys with you.

When I see this next picture (taken during our fun time at the Iris Festival Secret Garden) I fear that the two of you are plotting against daddy and me.

I've loved you since even before you were born, but I never imagined how my soul would light up every time I see your beautiful face.**  You bring so much joy and happiness to our family. 

Love,

Mama

*idea for this sentence from Linda S. at Purple is a Fruit

**idea for this sentence from Kathryn at Daring Young Mom

Tessa wanted her hair to be "bumpy" so we made twisty braids after her bath while her hair was wet.  We took the twisty braids out the next day, and her hair was indeed bumpy.

Through all the hard times I clung to my faith in God.  It is my belief that only God can create life.  I knew that God had a plan for me, and that I didn't want anything that wasn't in His will for me.  I refused (REFUSED!) to pray for a baby if it was not God's will.  I learned a hard lesson early in life that when you pray for things that aren't God's will for you, sometimes He says yes to teach you that His ways are better than your ways.  I also learned that praying about things you want, and waiting to see what God has for you is the best possible thing you can do.  He always gave me something better than I ever hoped for if I just prayed about it and waited on Him.  I always prayed that God would give us a baby, but only if it was His will for us.  

I remember that I would look out the window of my second story bedroom window at the sky, with the words to the Avalon song "Adonai" running through my head.

One single drop of rain
Your salty tear became blue ocean
One tiny grain of sand turning in your hand
A world in motion

You're out beyond the furthest morning star
Close enough to hold me in Your arms

Adonai
I lift up my heart and I cry
My Adonai
You are maker of each moment
Father of my hope and freedom
Oh, my Adonai

One timid faithful knock
Resounds upon the Rock of Ages
One trembling heart and soul
Becomes a servant bold and courageous

You call across the mountains and the seas
I answer from the deepest part of me

Adonai
I lift up my heart and I cry
My Adonai
You are maker of each moment
Father of my hope and freedom
Oh, my Adonai

From age to age you reign in majesty
And today you're making miracles in me

I had no more words, just a pain filled heart.  I just lifted up my heart to God… He knew what was inside, and I just could not speak the words anymore. 

This song called "Sometimes He Calms the Storm" by Scott Krippayne also really spoke to me through these hard times.

All who sail the sea of faith
Find out before too long
How quickly blue skies can grow dark
And gentle winds grow strong
Suddenly fear is like white water
Pounding on the soul
Still we sail on knowing
That our Lord is in control

Sometimes He calms the storm
With a whispered "peace be still"
He can settle any sea
But it doesn't mean He will
Sometimes He holds us close
And lets the wind and waves go wild
Sometimes He calms the storm
And other times He calms His child

He has a reason for each trial
That we pass through in life
And though we're shaken
We cannot be pulled apart from Christ
No matter how the driving rain beats down
On those who hold to faith
A heart of trust will always
Be a quiet peaceful place

This is a good place for me to pause and tell you what an amazing husband Rogene was through all of this.  He was the exact perfect combination of support, interest, and love.  He never judged, never blamed, and remained the voice of reason through all our infertile years.  I'm very lucky to have such an understanding, loving and supportive husband.

We finally came to a point where I got such a huge cyst on my ovary that I had to have surgery.  It couldn't be avoided any longer.  I was referred back to Dr. Meticulous (He was an in plan doctor now!  Woohoo!)  since nobody wanted to damage what little fertility I might possibly have left.  He did some testing and said it would be a major surgery, might take 3 or 4 hours, and he might not be able to do a laparoscopy but might have to do a laparotomy (cut me wide open similar to a cesarean section surgery).  I had no choice in the matter, because the pain was overwhelming.  So despite the TERROR I felt we scheduled the surgery.

I remember sobbing as they wheeled me on my gurney into the operating room.  When I awoke from the previous two surgeries I had been in excruciating pain.  I thought that was the way it always was when you woke up from surgery, and I was terrified.  I should tell you that when I woke up from this particular surgery, which was my biggest surgery to date, I had NO PAIN.  ZERO.  People, that is what pain meds are for!  I don't know what went on after my first two surgeries, but clearly, something was wrong.

The surgery went well.  I had stage 4 endometriosis and it took Mr. Meticulous 4 hours to clean it up.  He also took out the large cyst, and some uterine polyps.  It turns out that the endometriosis had completely ruined my left ovary and fallopian tube to the point that they had to be removed.  So I woke up to the news that now I was 50% less fertile than my already 0% fertile self (does that equal -50% fertility?).

Recovery from that surgery was difficult.  I was totally sick, got dehydrated twice and had to have IV fluids, was nauseated and throwing up for nearly 4 weeks.  I had so much abdominal pain it was unreal.  I lost 25 pounds in two weeks.  I even thought one or two times that I might die (I'm dramatic like that).  Rogene took such good care of me… poor guy, I was pretty helpless. 

When I finally started feeling better BOY! did we celebrate.  We had so much fun, and stopped worrying for a short time about babies and infertility.  We did some travelling, went to some concerts and summertime fairs. 

Around that time, I found the Avalon song "Dreams I Dream for You" on a CD that we had had for a long time.  I think God led me to find that song, and really listen to the words at that exact right time… like a gift from Him.  I felt like He was speaking the words to me, urging me to let go of my plans, so He could show me His perfect will.  Here is the part of the song that really spoke to me…

The dreams I dream for you
Are deeper than the ones you're clinging to
More precious than the finest things you knew
And truer than the treasures you pursue
So let the old dreams die
Like stars that fade from your view
Then take the cup I offer
And drink deeply of the dreams I dream for you

Then fall came (my favorite time of year), and with it an overwhelming desire to have a baby.  I remember one very important weekend in my life where I just started crying on Friday night and never stopped all weekend long.  I couldn't even leave the house I was such a weepy wreck.  But that weekend I made the decision I had been putting off for 5 years.  I didn't want to do IVF, didn't want to EVER go back on fertility drugs, didn't want to go to an RE ever again, and I was finally strong enough to say that.  I was ready to "drink deeply of the dreams God dreamt for me" even though that meant letting go of the dreams I had for myself. 

Did you ever see the movie Pilgrims Progress?  Where the heavy backpack the pilgrim carried was lifted from his shoulders at the foot off the cross?  Well, I had one of those moments when I released myself from my self-imposed obligation to try to have a biological child.  I actually felt a burden lift from my shoulders when I made the decision to adopt.  Physically I felt lighter than I had in years.  I had grieved for the biological baby that I would never have, and was ready to let go and pursue adoption…. not as a "second best" choice, but as the exactly right choice for my husband and me.  I was no longer angry over what I would need to go through to adopt.  I finally had peace!  Peace about not continuing IVF and peace about adoption.  Ahhhhh!  Finally some peace!

**Part 3 coming soon**

We went to our local Iris Festival this weekend and found a secret garden.  Okay, so it was a display garden, not a secret garden.  But secret garden sounds more interesting, plus it was enclosed on all sides by trees and shrubs so it felt kinda secret.  Anyway, it was beautiful.  See…

Rogene wanted me to post this picture, because it is one of his first attempts at a HDR composite.

A new park.  A warm day.  A picnic. 

I have a feeling we are going to be spending a lot of time at the park this summer.

Emma really enjoyed the toddler playground.

Too bad she has no fear of

• falling
• heights
• injury

Please ignore the snail trail nose issue we have going on here.  Emma is still getting over the latest cold Tessa brought home from preschool.

If you dress your kids alike you increase your chances of taking the right children home.

"Thanks for bringing us to this park, Mom.  This is fun!"

Tessa, unlike Emma, is afraid of most playground equipment. 
She is suspicious of the swings and will only swing very slowly.

A fun mom would sit in the grass for a picnic. 

But this table was in the shade, and it was hot, so they had to deal.

Tessa says, "I'm kind of done with the park, Mom.  How long until we can go home?"

Tessa says, "Seriously, Mom.  When can we go home?"

There are so many infertility blogs out there and I find myself attracted to them.  Because I started this blog after I already had kids, there is no record of my infertility that spans over 10 years of my life.  So, here is my story.

Rogene and I got married when I was 20 and he was 24.  We did not want to have kids right away.  We felt that getting married and me moving to my husband's home in British Columbia (on a visitor visa!) was enough.

I'd never really been around babies.  I was the baby of the family.  But my sister was pregnant and gave birth 4 months after my wedding.  Once I saw my little nephew, and held him, I wanted a baby too.  So we waited a year few months and then started trying for a baby.

When I didn't get pregnant for several months I went to my doctor in Canada for some testing.  They did some really strange testing… I remember an ultrasound to look at my ovaries (lots of smallish cysts!) and some blood test, and even a stool test (what?).  They didn't really say much except, "You're young!  Keep trying!"

Soon after that we moved to the States.  We had a lot of adjusting to do with our big move, so we put off any further testing, but we still really wanted a baby.  We still hoped for one.

My sister got pregnant and had another baby.  After holding my niece I REALLY wanted a baby.

So we started the testing again with my OB/GYN, who I will call Dr. Nice.  We did all the usual tests.  Blood tests, sperm analysis, post-coital test, ultrasounds and the doctor didn't find a thing wrong with me.  About my husband the doctor said, "He could populate the world!"  She prescribed Clomid and said "good luck!"  When that didn't work after a few months she said she'd like to do an exploratory laparoscopy.  Um, okay!  During the surgery they found some pretty bad endometriosis, scarring and adhesions.  Dr. Nice made an attempt at cleaning up the endometriosis, but realized she was in over her head and just finished up the surgery and referred me to a reproductive endocrinologist (RE).  I had some really bad pain after that surgery, so I was pretty scared of the idea of more surgery.  

We had a complete workup with the RE which I will call Dr. Meticulous (because he was), including some really fun tests like a hysterosalpingogram, a sperm penetration assay, and endometrial biopsy, and he suggested we try a few rounds of Dexamethazone/Progesterone/Clomid and IUI.  Which we did.  They all failed.  It got to the point where we had done every test, and we really didn't know anything conclusive other than that I had some pretty serious endometriosis.  None of the Clomid/IUI cycles had been even remotely successful.  These pictures of a two-sided Christmas ornament (I found them at A Little Pregnant) pretty much sum up the cycle of hope and disappointment that is infertility.

FRONT

BACK

About this time my insurance changed and I was eligible for 50% coverage for infertility (previously I had enjoyed 0% coverage for infertility).  BUT, they required that I switch to "in plan" doctors.  Which meant I had to change to a different RE.  Right in the middle of treatment.  So, we rolled with the punches, and did switch.  The new place was a clinic full of RE's and we never saw the same one twice.  It was very odd.  When we did IUI there a nurse did the whole procedure.  It was very impersonal and strange.  After our last IUI attempt, one of the random RE's there told me I had no choices left but IVF.  He gave me a handout with the procedures and prices on it AND the success rates which were so low!  Maybe things have changed but back then I think they said my chances of IVF being successful were 25% or less. 

I still remember that day like it was yesterday.  I felt very hopeless.  I wasn't ready to move on and do IVF, and I was sick to death of the side effects of the Clomid/Progesterone/Dexamethasone cocktail I was on (hot flashes, mood swings, weight gain).  How much worse would injectable drugs be?  Plus, doing IVF would mean I would have to take more time off work, and make the one hour (both ways!) drive to the doctor several times each week for ultrasounds at 7am.  Then, of course, there would be the un-fun egg retrieval process, where they stick a needle… oh never mind, it seemed too horrible to even think about at the time.  Plus, after so many failed IUIs I just didn't want to go through all of that, just to find out that after all that expense and all the effort that it had failed.  I was getting a little sick of the failure/bad news cycle we were in. 

I was also sick and tired of taking my pants off for exams at the doctor so often.  You might think that is funny, but think about if you would want to go in for your "annual women's exam" several times a week for months at a time.

I HATED that this process wasn't private.  I HATED talking about it at work, but how can you not when you have to ask for time off for the appointments, and everyone knew where I was going?  People would ask how it was going and it made me so upset.  If I was pregnant I would have told them!  Making me say that I was not pregnant, that it had not worked AGAIN was like torture for me.  I HATED feeling weepy all the time.  I HATED crying in front of other people.

Some of you are probably thinking, "Why not just give up and adopt?"  Good question!  I have nothing against adoption.  I think it is a wonderful way to build a family.  But at that point, I didn't want to do adoption because I was so ANGRY at all I would have to go through.  It seems silly now, but it felt very real to me then.  I was ANGRY that to get a baby I would have to sign up, that a social worker would come to my house to do a home study to evaluate if we were "good enough" to be parents.  If I got pregnant myself I wouldn't have had to do anything… nothing!  Teenagers get pregnant and nobody evaluates if they are ready for parenthood.  It just chapped my hide that someone was going to come tell me if I was good enough to be a parent.  If everyone in the whole world who was a prospective parent had to go through it, it would have been no big deal to me… but I felt singled out.  And it felt like yet another indignity I had to endure if I wanted a child.

Also, I HATED the idea that I could make up a letter with a picture of my husband and I that prospective birth mother's would read.  I HATED the fact that there are people out there who are circulating their letters and THEY MIGHT NEVER BE PICKED.  EVER!  It seemed an unfair way to do things.  I felt that if you were deemed "worthy" by a social worker of being an adoptive parent you should be able to line up and take your turn getting the next available baby.  Now, I realize that if I were in the shoes of a birth mom I would want to pick the family my baby would go to.  But I didn't want to be the letter writer.  (I worked at an office where we would get those types of letters in the mail several times a week and they were heartbreaking.  It made me sad to see the pictures of all those hopeful prospective parents.)

Also, I couldn't decide on open or closed adoption.  Now that I've read more about adoption, I'm all for open adoption.  If I could adopt a child, and have that child know the birth parents… keep in touch with them, I would LOVE that.  But at the time I was scared and closed adoption, where the birth parents could not find the child, seemed safer somehow.

They told me that the only real option I had left was IVF or a major endometriosis surgery.   No thanks on the surgery.  I was terrified of surgery.  I needed to think about the IVF.  It was prohibitively expensive, and did not have a good success rate.  If we spent our money on IVF and weren't successful, we went home empty handed and also with an empty bank account.  If we used our money on an adoption, we would be pretty much guaranteed to come home with a baby.  What to do, what to do.

Meanwhile, I checked out every book in the local library about reproduction and infertility and read them all.  I wanted to be informed, it helped me feel a little more in control of the things that were happening to us. 

**Before I go any further I would like to say that my views on IVF are mine alone, and I in no way condemn those who chose to do IVF or any other ART.  I know many children who are the result of IVF, and I can't imagine the world without those beautiful children.  I do believe God gives doctors the knowledge and ability to help heal things like infertility.**

My best friend gave me a book called "God, Why Can't We Have A Baby?" and I read it cover to cover.  It was a different way of looking at ART, and one that really made me think about what I believe.  I believe that life begins at conception.  This book made me look at that belief, made me question whether or not I could purposely create little lives, and then freeze them, or use them knowing that some or most of them would die, or donate them to a stranger for either implantation or research.  I wanted to do IVF… I wanted to scrunch up my eyes and cover my ears and say "LA LA LA CAN'T HEAR YOU" and pretend that I had different beliefs.  Since I couldn't make my peace with IVF I decided to just put off the decision.  I went off Clomid after being on it for a year and could not believe how much better I felt.  We needed a break from all the treatments, decisions, and unhappiness.  We needed to have some fun!  I decided I wanted to lose weight and feel good about myself so I went on a diet (phen/fen was still on the market back then) and started exercising and rapidly lost 56 pounds. 

This "fun" lasted for probably 5 (or more) years.  I still wanted a baby really bad.  I still felt infertile.  I still cried when someone I knew got pregnant.  I still avoided baby showers.  I remember one time I saw a girl with twins, and I was SO ANGRY that she had two babies and I had none.  That is SO UNFAIR!  We should each have one, then we both would be happy.  Through all of this I didn't have peace about either adoption or IVF, so I did nothing. 

**Part 2 coming soon**

After freezing at our campsite for a while, we decided to head down to the beach.  It was about a quarter of a mile from our camp sites.

Lets just say that riding two to a umbrella stroller was NOT my idea.

(It was my dad's idea.  This is the same guy who pulled me and my brother in a wagon behind his motorcycle.  I'll let you guess how that turned out.)

Tessa decided to fly a kite.  Braden and Emma are enjoying the show.

This picture totally makes me smile because it reminds me of every beach trip I went on as a kid.  When my dad goes to the beach he sits on a blanket with shoes on so his feet don't touch any sand, and he covers up with blankets.  My grandmother was the same way.

Braden dug a big hole in the sand.  Emma was really excited about it.  My mom forbid Braden to let anyone bury him up to his neck in the sand.  When he asked why she said, "If a tsunami comes you won't be able to get away."  Frankly, if I were Braden and I was buried up to my neck in the sand, I'd be more worried about someone kicking me in the head. 

Emma went straight for the ocean and didn't stop even when her feet were getting wet.

My sister Pam and her husband Darryl, who was sporting sweat pants that he had put on backward.

Kiara and Emma playing around.

Tessa, taking a break from the kite flying.

Rogene and me, rocking our Roots USA 2002 "pie man" hats.

Tessa trying to keep warm.

Emma making raspberries.

Rogene helping Tessa ride her bike back to the yurt.

Lessons learned on this camping trip (learn from my mistakes, people!)…

• No camping in May in Oregon
• No camping at the Oregon Coast (usually cold and windy)
• Be prepared for the barfing with extra EVERYTHING

Oh yes, it was warm.  WARM!

My dad makes awesome fires.  They even burn OUTSIDE the fire pit.

Braden and Tessa warming up by the fire.

My mom, sister and I went for a morning walk.  We saw this Tsunami Evacuation Route sign. 

The sign… it was pointing towards the bathroom.  My sister thought the sign might be suggesting that you might need to use the restroom if you see a tsunami coming.

My parents, trying not to freeze to death.

Rogene got his laptop fired up and managed to get our church web cam going so we could watch the church service.

My family had a birthday party for me.  They even managed to get this cake (and gifts!) to the camp out in one piece.  How awesome is that?!

Emma found the hidden cookies and brought them to me.  I wasn't kidding about "denying requests for cookies" taking up a large portion of my time. (We accidentally left the cookies out and the raccoons helped themselves that night.)

Emma laughs at my feeble attempt to hide the cookies.

Grandma and Grandpa had the kids over to the RV each evening for a nice warm bath before bed.

Hold on to your hats… Yurt Camping Weekend Extravaganza - Part 3 is coming soon.

For my birthday and Mother's day weekend, I talked my whole family into going Yurt camping.  At the Oregon coast.  In May.  In 50 degree weather. (Wind chill made it more like 12 degrees).  I just have to say… my family members are really good sports to participate in this hare brained scheme.

Behold, our Yurt.

All yurts are clearly marked, so the raccoons can keep track of whose food they have raided.

The yurt on the left is mine, the yurt on the right is my sisters.  My parents brought their RV and were at the campsite just across the path.

This is what the inside of our yurt looked like when we arrived.

Another picture of our yurt when we first arrived.

My sister told me all the important things to bring for comfort and also to make your yurt look cute.

• matching comforters for the beds
• table cloth for the inside table
• flowers for the table
• matching towels and blankets

She also said to bring a table cloth and flowers for the outside picnic table too.

A welcome mat is always nice, and helps keep the dirt out of the yurt.  Hey, that rhymes!

Maybe, just maybe, instead of bringing all this stuff I should have brought, oh I don't know…

• extra towels, blankets, sheets, pajamas for when Tessa woke up in the middle of the night and rained down barf from the top bunk into my cupped hands (I couldn't find anything to catch the barf with at a moment's notice!) and all over our bedding, towels, and pajamas.
• more t-shirts for the next day when Emma barfed on my last clean t-shirt

Stay tuned for Yurt Camping Weekend Extravaganza - Part 2.  Coming soon.