It started a few months ago, to be honest. I went to my little sister's house for Christmas dinner. Her husband Bill was there, my husband James, and our Dad, David, and step mom, Inga. It was all just too perfect. Livi has a great place, and has decorated like it is from a page in a magazine. Dinner was awesome, as usual. Appys after appys, salad, dinner, dessert, wine... you name it- she had it covered. Martha Stewart should take lessons from Liv on how to decorate a Christmas tree and host a party.

I wanted that life. I had that life. It was only for a little while, but I used to live like that. James and I had a great place. We had room to entertain, a kitchen that inspired me, and room to display all of our modern/eclectic things that we picked up on our travels in Asia. It was beautiful, and I loved it, but I didn't know it. You know when you look back on things and can't believe you had it so good? That's how I feel.

We made good money, we had a nice car, we were newly married, and we were ready for a family. Sort of. I got sick on our honeymoon in Thailand, and I ended up in the hospital. After a long chain of events, ending in Canada several months later, we found out that we couldn't have children. I always loved kids, and really wanted them, but looking back on the situation, I think part of my desperation to have them immediately at that point in time, was probably just because someone told us we couldn't. It's not that we couldn't have handled it at that time, or that I didn't want them, it's just that had we not known that we were faced with so many complications, I don't think we would have tried so hard to get pregnant that soon into our marriage.

But here we are, four years later, and I'm definitely ready.

Man, have we been through a lot the past four years. For the first couple of years we were living in Chilliwack and driving into Vancouver every week or two for and more and more invasive testing and several surgeries. I had developed a severe pain in my side, and lived on T3s for over a year. That stopped working, so the doctors kept upgrading my pain meds, until I had become immune to everything, and nothing controlled the pain anymore. After having a surgery two years ago that has helped a little, I have learned to live with the pain, but it's still an every day aggravation.

James also had went through several embarrassing tests and a surgery, and was always with me as I went through mine. The office we went to was old and uninviting. We felt vulnerable, scared, and alone.

But we got through it. For me anyway, it took a few years, but I'm ok. I'm ok that I can't have my own natural children... but I'll touch on that later.

We decided to move on. James wanted to go back to school, so he took a couple of classes at UCFV. I encouraged him to do it, but I don't think I really understood the commitment I was getting myself into- and that's a good thing, because I never would have agreed! He started his classes, and of course, if you know anything about him, you'll know that he was soon #1 in all his classes. Every teacher knew his name, and his GPA was perfect. We decided to move to Burnaby so he could go to school full time at SFU.

Over the past year and a half we have had to give up our brand new car, and take the bus for months (which added several hours to a long workday). James parents were awesome and bought us a used car, but I am so thankful for it because it has been so good to us. I had to leave the company I used to work to to join a company that had a promising management position "opening soon" because we weren't able to pay the rent on my small salary. After no position had open several months in, I decided to take an assistant management position with Pier 1, but didn't like it as much as Eddie Bauer. Coincidentally, as soon as I had moved over to Pier 1, a management position finally opened at Eddie Bauer, so that's where I've been for the last year. Just before Christmas my District Director asked if I would transfer to a different location, in Vancouver- so I took it. I've moved around a lot, that's for sure. I loved Coquitlam Center, but they tell me Oakridge is a permanent thing, so I'm hoping that if I stay committed to it, eventually my heart will change, and I'll feel like I fit in. Right now I just feel like it's something I do to pay the bills, but I miss the staff at Coquitlam Center.

So, I guess that wasn't entirely relevant, but a little background anyway. All to say, that this year has been full of moves and changes.

It's also been tough because we've had so many deaths in our family/friends this year. I am very close to my family, and I have felt so isolated living on this dark mountain, in 400 sq. feet of mould.

I've felt like I've needed out. I can't stand being home. It's so small, so gross, so smelly, and just not home. I am a nester, with no place to nest. I've been ency, ready for something different. I feel like my life is on pause. I'm waiting for something, but I don't know what. I don't blame that on James. He has been entirely encouraging of me doing whatever the heck it is I want to do. I have thought about going back to school, but what would I take? Architecture or Anthropology are the only things that interest me, and they'd both be a minimum of 6-7 years to get a Master's. By that point in my life James would be finished school and all I can think about doing is raising my children, so why would I need a degree? I've thought about it for the last year- what do I want to do with my life?

The only thing I know for sure is that I want kids. I want to be a mom. I want a family. I don't think I have unrealistic dreams. I don't need a white picket fence house, or a fancy sports car. I want a comfortable home, a Subaru, a garage, a picnic table and a little tree fort in the back yard. That's what I want in life. Maybe I'll run my photography business on the side, because I do enjoy it, it's just not the only thing I want.

On Tuesday, one of my closest friends had a baby. I went to visit her right before her son was born, and then just the other day I went to see him. I didn't think it would be such an emotional thing for me, but when I left I felt deeply sad. Not in a bad way, but I guess in this deep yearning way. She and I talked about it. I told her I was proud of her, and that she had everything I could dream of. Her and her husband just bought a home, they had just adopted a little girl and now had a boy of their own. It just seems so long away for me.

It's not that I doubt it will happen. Eventually James will graduate with his doctorate. He'll make good enough money that we'll own a house, and a car, and be able to take vacations... but what about now? How do I get through the next 6 years just waiting. I feel like I'm waiting for my life to start.

I know some people who have gone through rough times and come through it so bitter. I remember a co-worker I worked with awhile ago couldn't have children, and she was so angry at everyone, especially people that had children. When her sister told her she was pregnant, this woman wouldn't even speak to her. I'm not like that. There is a difference between grieving your own loss, as apposed to not wanting other people to experience something just because you can't. I am very happy for the people in my life who have children. This last year was a baby year- nearly every couple we knew had a baby. I am so proud and happy for each and everyone of them.

In the past, people have seen times when I will be emotional after hearing that yet another friend is pregnant, but I wish everyone could understand my point of view. It has nothing to do with not wanting that couple to be happy, it's just a reminder of what I'm missing out on. I am very fortunate to have friends in my life who have children. One family in particular, we've known for over 30 years. Well, I should clarify. My mom knew a guy named Bruce, who had a daughter named Molly. My mom used to babysit her when Molly was only a few years old. Eventually my mom had my sister and I, and Molly used to take care of us. Now Molly has children of her own, who my sister and I love. Our families have become joined, specifically the past few years, and blood relation or not, they are closer to my heart than most of my blood relatives. I consider Molly my big sister, and her 3 girls, my nieces. It was a turning point in my grieving process to form such strong attachments to this family. I realized I am made to love. I love these girls more than I can explain. I have become a big part of their life, and they have become a huge part of mine. Adoption was always an option, but having Matt and Molly, and Kim, Brooke, and Claire in my life have given me confidence that "everything will be ok" (as everyone always tells me). All you need is love, and I have that overflowing.

Infertility is something that really none of my family or friends have gone through, or at least faced the depths of the problems that James have had to face, anyway. Over the past few years I have had so many people try to comfort me, but at times it has felt so patronizing. "It will be ok, you can always adopt". It's not what people say, but the understanding (or lack thereof) of the depth of suffering you are facing. I think of it like this... ask yourself what you want most in life. (Pause. No really. Think about it) Everyone has a different answer. Some want to be world-class athletes, others musicians, teachers, artists, whatever. Imagine how your life would change if you went paralyzed, lost a hand, went blind, or had anything in life effect you so you couldn't fulfill your dream. I don't care what your dream is, loosing that hurts everyone the same.

But to throw a wrench into the gear, we have a problem. James had a vein embolization surgery just over a year ago, and recently we found out that despite my (this will be more honest and graphic than some want to hear, so just skip to the next paragraph) endometriosis, two uterus', unexplained severe pain on my side, ovarian cysts, and Jamie's almost non-existent quantity of low-quality sperm, there might still be a chance, with artificial insemination, that we could conceive our own, natural children.

We talked about it the other day, and we don't know what to do. It's only $150 a round. We've done it twice before, but that was before the surgery, and his most recent test shows dramatic improvements. I had finally gotten through it. I was finally ok with adopting. Do I need my own children? Is it worth the disappointment and anxiety? Should I open an old wound? I don't know. I would say, if it happens one day fine, otherwise, it doesn't matter, but it doesn't really work like that, because it won't happen naturally. If it will happen at all, it will be because we take the step to go ahead and do IUI. But do I want to take that step?

I almost wish we never knew. I was ok with being infertile. I think it's harder to have a 1% chance, than nothing at all.

You can say, "you can adopt", but you miss out on pregnancy, and the birth. You have to work for the connection between mother/child, instead of bonding with the child growing inside of you for 9 months. Giving birth is an amazing thing. When I was talking to my friend the other day I was totally weirded out thinking that just a few days ago, that full grown baby was inside of her body. Maybe you don't care. Maybe you never thought about it. Maybe you think that I haven't thought about all the crappy things that go along with it, but I have. And I miss out on it all- good and bad.

It's taken me 4 years, but I ok with adoption. Really, I just want a family. I was able to realize that I want to be a mom, and that although I miss out on the first 9 months, I will have an entire lifetime to love and get to know my children. And I know you know that, and could have told me that a year ago, but it doesn't matter with grief. You can tell my mom that my uncle is in heaven and that he's not suffering anymore, but that doesn't stop her from grieving Uncle Barry's death this year. You might say something to someone who is grieving, and then five years later they are able to agree, but the time that they needed to work through the pain and loss is important.

Some people don't move past the pain of losing something dear to them,so they will never be able to experience what I will be able to, and I feel bad for them. You can't push people to get over their hurting and grief. Maybe they'll come out of it eventually, maybe never. I'm glad that I am, and I'm looking forward to a long life of parenthood, when ever that starts.

This is a lesson for everyone. So many people have had bad years this past year. When you meet with friends and family who are grieving, put things into perspective - your perspective. Imagine how your life would change if someone close to you died, or if your dream in life was changed. We can all relate to each other more than we think.

If you're looking for more of a conclusion than that, I'm sorry. I'm right in the thick it if right now. Some of my emotions are still raw, and I don't know where I'm headed really, or what I'll do with my time waiting until we can start my family. I support Jamie in what he's doing, and I am proud of how far he has come, and how well he is doing. He wants a family now too, and he has to wait, just like I do. Do I want to raise a child in a small apartment on a low income? It is worth it so I can have them now, instead of waiting for a "better life" a few years down the road?

This blog seems to have more questions than answers, but that's a true look into the life of Emily.