Category: Infertility

Dear Dierks Bentley

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Dear Dierks Bentley,

Three years ago, my husband and I were waiting to adopt. We had been chosen by an expectant mother and six days before this photo, we got a phone call that a baby had been born.

That mother decided to parent, and while I found peace that we were not meant to parent that child, I struggled with the fact that our years of infertility and inability to grow our family continued.

We went right back to waiting, but driving to work on Monday was painful. I thought we should be driving to see a baby, not the same old drive to work.

I saw that you were playing in Columbia, Missouri that Friday. That was a couple hour drive, but I decided my husband and I needed something to distract ourselves. So I bought the tickets. Second row. I splurged. I needed to let the music drown my pain that night.

Then you came out and put on an amazing show. That could have been enough. But then as you walked back to the stage, you stopped for a selfie. I nervously fumbled around trying to take a picture with my new phone, and you started walking away. I kind of squealed as I realized I hadn’t even taken a photo, and you turned around, came back, and took another photo. I couldn’t believe you took the time to come back.

My husband and I walked out of that concert with the same thought. “THIS is exactly where we were supposed to be tonight.” We felt peace. It was as much of a sign as we could find to say, “Hold on, your time is coming.”

And these lyrics ran through my head over and over:

“I’m a riser.

I’m a get up off the ground, don’t run and hider

Pushing comes a-shovin’

Hey I’m a fighter

When darkness comes to town, I’m a lighter

A get out aliver, out of the fire

Survivor”

Then one week later, we got another phone call. We had been chosen by another expectant mother. A baby boy. And three weeks later, we welcomed that baby boy into our family.

You’ll never remember this moment, but I’ll never forget it. The moment I let go of the control I was trying to desperately hold onto in the wait to become a family. The moment my husband and I looked into each other’s eyes and knew we were right where we needed to be.

Thank you for taking time for this moment. Thank you for putting your whole self into that show. You made a bigger impression than you probably ever knew.

Some of your biggest fans,

Marcus and Betsy

Infertility is a Trauma

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Dear No One,

I have publicly begged and yearned for the day I would be a mother. My journey to motherhood has been nothing short of exhausting. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally.

I naively thought once I built my family, I’d sigh a big breath of relief and cruise into my dream job as a mother.

Here’s the thing, though. Infertility changed me. Changed me to my core. For the most part I think it made me stronger. It gave me a deeper purpose. But years of ignoring the mental and emotional turmoil of infertility has left incredibly deep scars.

Scars. “a lasting effect of grief, fear, or other emotion left on a person’s character by a traumatic experience.”

Infertility is a trauma. Yet it is kept behind closed doors. You don’t tell people you are struggling to get pregnant. You don’t tell people you miscarried. Why?

Because the pain is too heavy to put on someone who can never understand.

Because when you do talk about it, you get the comments “You’re still so young,” “just relax,” “you just get to have more fun trying.” And these comments, while meant to be helpful, only further your idea that your deep hurt isn’t valid. That you should be enjoying this journey somehow. That it isn’t that big of a deal.

So you hold it in. You carry the weight of your pain and trauma on your shoulders. But that pain is too heavy, friends. It should not be carried alone.

Infertility is a trauma, and it should be dealt with as a trauma.

Recognizing your struggle and finding validation is the first step in taking control of your infertility and mental health.

Your life is lived in cycles that bring the highest joys and hope followed by despair and grief. On repeat. No one is meant to do this alone.

Find support groups. Find other infertility warriors. Find a counselor. Find someone who understands and talk about your pain.

I admittedly didn’t do this. I kept to myself for a long time, and I’m still working through some of the scars that it left behind.

So I am here to tell you that infertility is a trauma. It is serious. It is deep. Your feelings are valid. You are not alone.

Recognize the depth of the journey you are on. Work through it, whether it is privately with a therapist or publicly on social media. It will not be easy. It is a long road.

But you are more than infertility. You are worthy of help. Your relationship deserves it. Your spouse deserves it. Your future or current children deserve it. YOU deserve it.

Your life is bigger than infertility. Deal with it as the trauma it is, find the healing you deserve, and move forward into the life that is waiting for you.

All my love,

Betsy

This Is Me

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Dear No One,

This is me, and I have anxiety.

What do you see when you look at me?

Do you see a woman crying in bed, not able to breathe, shutting down with exhaustion?

I have always led with my emotions. And those emotions can be big and bold.

It wasn’t until I was dating my now husband, that I even figured out that some of those emotions are led by anxiety.

In one of my many moments of feeling anxious, Marcus said, “I think you’re having a panic attack.”

Which I responded with, “No. My chest is just tight.”

Cue the eye roll. “Betsy. That’s anxiety.”

And then a rewind of some standout moments and memories flashed through my mind, and I realized in that moment this wasn’t a new thing.

Yet, after realizing that, I made no changes and continued to wonder why I was having these anxiety attacks and constantly sick and tired.

No, anxiety doesn’t just affect your mind. It can affect anything and everything.

After getting married, I dealt with anxiety about moving to a new state and city where I knew no one. Fun fact: I’m not really a social butterfly. New situations and people are often a source of anxiety for me.

So I’m alone. In a new state. My husband was in residency and working a lot (A LOT)!!!! Then we decided to grow our family. First comes marriage, then comes infertility. Then the journey of adoption and raising our first son. Then moving back to Iowa (after finally making some amazing friends). Then starting IVF. Then pregnancy. Then postpartum anxiety (my anxiety multiplied by a thousand).

That one paragraph of one thing piled on top of another was over six years. Six years of not taking care of myself and my mental health.

This isn’t easy to write or admit because there is still such a huge stigma around mental health. But after multiple, major panic attacks after the birth of our second son, my husband (an obgyn) nudged me ever so gently to start medication.

I feel like I am finally coming out of a fog. An at least six year fog. My entire marriage. My entire time as a mother.

I can see. I can see what my anxiety looks like, what triggers it, and some ways to manage it. And I don’t say heal or conquer my anxiety because it is me.

This is me.

It is a huge part of who I am. My big emotions. My empathy. My emotional intelligence. Those are big, beautiful parts of myself that I’m proud of, but I think they are directly linked to my anxiety.

I share this today because:

1) May is Mental Health Awareness Month

2) Sharing my story may make it easier for another person to get the help they need.

3) And honestly, what don’t I share with you?!?

Mental health disorders are so common. Yet we keep it hidden. I don’t want people to see or judge my unshowered self struggling to find joy in motherhood that I begged for publicly for years.

But if we don’t step forward and share our stories, how will we make any type of advancement?

So, friends, (cue The Greatest Showman) THIS IS ME. I have anxiety. It is not all of me. It is not breaking me. It is just a part of me. And I am only at the beginning of learning to manage it.

And if you have or even think you have a mental illness, please get help. Work to manage it. Whatever that looks like for you.

It is part of you, but it does not have to control you. And as always, you are not alone.

All my love,

Betsy

“My Wish” Bracelets

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By Emily Misener

E1GHT.

We are one in eight. We are one in eight couples who struggle to conceive a child by natural methods.

I have had to learn to believe that this is ‘OUR’ story. That ‘WE’ will forever be changed by these last several months, and the months to come. In Jacob and I’s case, my body is the one that doesn’t produce the hormones necessary to develop a viable egg.

It is such a tricky thing to believe that something that feels as personal as my body is a shared journey. Jacob feels the hopelessness and emptiness. He feels the sadness and the lingering cloudy days, and he definitely feels the side effects of all my infertility drugs. He is my rock. But Jacob will be the first to admit that this journey is very different for him, simply because it isn’t his body.

Infertility for me feels so heavy. My chest aches. It feels lonely, even when I have an unbelievable support system. It is scary. It is unknown. It is uncontrollable. It comes with days of high hopes that crumble to the lowest of lows in one phone call. It steals my confidence. It makes my skin feel uncomfortable. It makes me question God and why He made me this way. It is a financial thief. It makes me sift through many lies that I tell myself to find a reason for the failed attempts. It feels really big, and makes me feel really small.

I have always told myself that I will be an advocate for women going through infertility once I am on the other side. Once we have conquered this hormonal hiccup, and conceived our miracle, I will be ready and worthy to help, but through countless conversations with God, I realized that I can be helping people right now. I can be ready right now, in the thick of this situation (I like to call our infertility a situation because situations can change). I think that being raw and real about infertility is a job that calls for present time. I won’t have answers for other women, but I can spread hope, and remind them that they are brave and not alone. That is a job for right now. I can sit and relate to the crappy parts of their story with them, and then offer them my hand to pull them up out of the darkness to try again.

So friends, this is a piece of our story, and now I want to spread my own piece of hope. I started making “My Wish” bracelets. The inspiration behind these bracelets is to remind women struggling with infertility of the community of warriors in it with you. Did you know that a star is formed once its dense core collapses under its own weight? The end stages of a star’s formation are violent and disruptive, a far reach from their peaceful existence when transformation is complete.

Sister, I know it feels like you’re collapsing under the disruptive and sometimes violent emotional weight of infertility. I know you are asking hard questions and praying relentless prayers. I also BELIEVE that on the other side of this journey is peace, and transformation in us and through us.

I would love to send you or someone you know this bracelet reminder that it is okay to feel all the feelings infertility brings you – but my hope is that at the end of the day you know that you are strong, brave, favored, perfectly imperfect, and your story matters.

More importantly, I want you to know that I am with you.

Love – fellow fighter, hope spreader, infertility sister, friend.

How To Support Your Friends’ Infertility Journeys (when you’ve never experienced infertility)

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by Megan Boettcher

I am generally a pretty happy-go-lucky kind of gal. I tend to look on the sunny side of things, but when things go wrong I rarely know the right thing to say or do. I am awkward and unsure. So you can only imagine my inability to react well the first time a friend shared the news that she’d had a miscarriage. I offered my condolences, but then I did my best to avoid her. I was about 30 weeks pregnant at the time and felt like a GIANT (literal and figurative) reminder of what she’d just lost.

It was my first pregnancy. And the first time I’d personally crossed paths with someone in the midst of an infertility journey. And frankly, I didn’t know what to do.

Since then, I’ve been well educated. Sometimes I joke about my keen ability to attract friends with unique motherhood stories. My friends have suffered losses. My friends have had multiples. My friends have had egg donors. My friends have adopted. My friends have children with special needs. My friends have had secondary infertility. My friends have gone through many, many rounds of IVF.

These fantastic women have put their heart and bodies through the emotional trenches to build their families, and I’m over here like fertile myrtle who thinks about having a kid and a few months later… here comes baby. I’ve often wondered, and I’m guessing you have too, how can you be supportive of your friends’ infertility journey when you’ve never experienced it yourself? Here are my best tips to be an infertility support person.

  1. There’s No Right Answer

You can’t fix this. There are no words that will make the situation all better. There’s no thoughtful gift that will take away their pain. Your job isn’t to fix it. Your job is be there and listen. Somedays they will feel like talking. Let them share all their worries and fears and anger and frustrations. Don’t fix. Listen.

Somedays they won’t want to talk at all. Bring them coffee and sit with them. Give them a distraction for a moment. Plan a girls’ night out, go to a movie, grab a pedicure together, take a spin class together. They are constantly consumed with thoughts of infertility and the desire to have a family. When they are open to it, a fun distraction can be a helpful way to shine a little light into a rough week.

  1. Respect Their “No Thanks”

Social gatherings can be especially difficult. They’re suddenly bombarded with dozens of people saying things like: “When are YOU gonna have a baby? You just need to relax. Did you hear so-and-so is pregnant?” And even if no one says anything to them, they will be overwhelmed by the sight of pregnant bellies and adorable toddlers running around. It’s too much!  If they RSVP “no,” that’s ok. Don’t guilt them into coming. They know when they need to preserve their mental health by avoiding certain situations. Respect that. And plan something that’s just the two of you for another day.

If you do have your own baby news to share, know that they are 100% elated for you! But every pregnancy announcement just reminds them how hard their journey is to build a family. Take a moment to let them know the news personally so they aren’t surprised by a Facebook announcement. And if they send a gift to your baby shower but don’t attend it’s not because they’re upset with you. They love you and don’t want to spoil your big day by running to the bathroom in tears if the day becomes too emotionally overwhelming.

  1. Take a Back Seat

Even if this person is your very best friend, you aren’t going to be their go-to person for everything in their infertility journey. You just aren’t. They will share an instantaneous connection with others who are walking the path of infertility. {The Sisterhood of Infertility} They speak the same language. They share similar feelings and emotions that you can appreciate, but will never actually experience.

Be their best friend by supporting their new friendships. Thank new friends for supporting and sharing insights with your friend that you can’t provide since you’ve never been through it all. They are better equipped with a strong support system. You are one important part of that system—not the entire thing.

  1. Educate Yourself

Learn the lingo. If your friend is going through IVF treatments, familiarize yourself with the steps so that you know what she means when she says it’s “embryo transfer day.” (FYI, that’s a pretty huge day. You should send flowers!)

But you’ll also learn things like why it’s so important to take injections at a specific time. And why they may insist on doing dinner early so they can be home in time to take the shot in privacy instead of trying to manage it in a restaurant bathroom.

The same is true for adoption. It’s a long, arduous process that is mentally and emotionally exhausting. But there are plenty of ways to be supportive. Help her clean up before a home visit or take her out to celebrate each milestone along the way. Paper work submitted? Celebrate! They are “live” to be matched with an adoption opportunity? Celebrate!

It doesn’t take a lot of effort to learn about the journey. Follow infertility and adoption bloggers through social media and you’ll get a window into their world, and a common vocabulary so you can be a part of the conversation. Through social media you may also read how your friend is feeling but can’t articulate. A lot of the infertility mom blogs discuss their journey in retrospect and are able to name their emotions in a way that your friend, who is going through it all, may not be able to fully process yet. But when you hear from real-people’s experiences you begin to understand the devastation they feel. And that will make you a better support person.

  1. Just Love Them

Infertility is an all-consuming experience that is mentally and physically difficult. Even if they have children, every step of the process is tough. Nothing is ever easy. The best thing you can do is just to be there for them. Check in with them regularly. Be prepared for long tearful conversations as well as one-word text responses. Be whatever they need that day.

And remember, you are friends for a reason. You like hanging out together. You probably share the same silly sense of humor and can quote the same movie lines. It’s ok to have some fun. Be the unexpected delight in their day. Send them funny memes. Surprise them with this hilariously sarcastic coloring book about IVF and a Starbucks gift card. If you’re as awkward as I am, let Emily McDowell’s series of awkward sympathy cards help you find the words you need. You know your friend. Maybe all they need from you is to binge watch Grey’s Anatomy with a bag of Lay’s wavy potato chips and some party dip.

Another Infertility Warrior’s Story

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by Rosie Fitzgerald

3 rounds of IUIs, 5 full rounds of IVF, one frozen transfer, countless shots, seemingly endless tears of heartbreak, but it led to two amazing miracles that have changed my life forever. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

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Infertility. Just the word breaks my heart because I know the struggle, pain and absolute despair infertility causes. My husband and I were anxious to start our family, both of us knew children were in our future, we always talked about having 2 or 3. But as time went by, month after month nothing was happening. We scheduled our first appointment with our infertility doctor, went through all the tests only to determine nothing was wrong, there was no cause for our infertility. Some may think this would be a relief, but if there was a problem we could fix it and hopefully get pregnant. We started fertility treatments. At that time I knew no one (or so I thought) that was struggling to get pregnant or had to go through fertility treatments. No one talked about it, that is part of the reason infertility is so isolating. My husband and I believe in sharing our story, so that others hopefully will not feel so alone.

After 3 failed IUIs and 2 full rounds of IVF, we became pregnant with twins. We were beyond excited and could not wait. Hearing both of those heartbeats will forever be a moment seared into my memory, it was one of the most happiest moments of my life. Unfortunately at 11 weeks, we lost one of our babies. They call it vanishing twin, I was broken. We had heard both of our babies heartbeats on two separate occasions by that time. I felt like I failed my baby. People told me to be happy for the one I had, but that just upset me more. I needed to mourn the loss, but that also made me feel guilty for not just being happy for the baby I did have. But eight months later we gave birth to a healthy boy that amazes me every day. He is loving, spirited, funny and smart all round and an energetic little boy.

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We knew we wanted a sibling for our son, so again started back at fertility treatments. A frozen transfer, and two more full rounds of IVF later, we had one 5 day embryo that had not even developed to the standard stage to be graded. We transferred that underdeveloped embryo but had no hope of it actually developing. That will be the last time I ever underestimate my daughter! We were blown away to get the call telling us we were pregnant. We now have a healthy 4 month old daughter who is full of smiles, coos and absolutely adores her brother.

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Infertility changes you. It takes you on a ride you do not want to be on. You try to have hope, when it feels hopeless. But I would go through it all again for my two IVF miracles. They made every tear, heartbreak, shot, procedure worth every bit of it.

For those battling infertility now, try to keep the hope, lean on your spouse, give yourself some grace as you go through this, let yourself process every feeling. This is such a hard journey to be on, but you are strong and amazing. I hope your miracles come to you soon.

 

A Man’s Perspective on Infertility: Carrying the Burden Together

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by Marcus

People rarely hear about infertility from the perspective of a man. Within the infertility community, all of the support groups, social media, and other forums are dominated by women. There is a reason for this. Men and women are different. Men and women process, grieve, emote, and communicate differently. But this does not imply that the men involved are not struggling in their own way.

I can really only speak for myself here, and my perspective is somewhat unique. I am an OBGYN. In my everyday job I am part of the joys and sorrows of pregnancy and childbearing, including working with couples who are trying to get pregnant. Therefore, fertility is something I think about every single day. But I am not an OBGYN at home. I am just a husband. And I am now a father.

When Betsy and I got married, I had just finished medical school and was about to start a residency in OBGYN. I really knew nothing about infertility other than the science. I was very excited to be married, and I was ready to have kids whenever Betsy decided (this is how things work in my house). I always wanted to be a father. I liked thinking about my future as a tee ball coach, or taking my kids on family vacations. Betsy was a perfect match for me, as I knew from the moment I met her that she would be a fantastic mother. We wanted the same things in life.

When we did start trying to have kids, I have to say, I was not all that surprised when we ran into problems. I had always had this weird thought in the back of my brain that I wouldn’t be able to have kids. Why? I have no idea. Young men shouldn’t have that thought. It didn’t happen right away.  I knew that it can take awhile to get pregnant. “Relax. No big deal. It’s just taking awhile”. That’s what I would tell myself. Then it started to wear on us. Each month was traumatic. Betsy wore her emotions differently than me. I tried to stay strong and optimistic. I tried to support her. I tried. I really tried. I don’t think I did a very good job.

As more time passed I had no clue what to do. I was stressed. How do I support her? How do I be there for her when I have to work all the time (I was in residency…)? How do we maintain our identity as a couple? How do I feel about all this? I had really pushed my own feelings aside, trying to be the light of positivity and strength and completely failed to let myself feel anything at all.

Then we did more testing and got some answers. Suddenly everything exploded for me personally. Now I felt the emotions. My initial thought was that since I could not give Betsy the one thing she has always wanted, she would leave me.  Obviously, this was irrational, and this thought did not last long, but it was a part of my individual struggle. I was done trying to the big, strong man trying to comfort her. I was feeling the emotions right there with her.  It was right around this time that we really started talking to each other again. I think we started to understand each others pain as individuals, which helped us grieve together.  This helped us to heal together. We started growing stronger. Together.

What I learned is that infertility is not one persons problem. Women struggle. Men struggle. That struggle looks different from the outside. But the burden is still carried together. The grief is experienced together. It has to be in order to allow room for healing. Healing individually. Healing as a couple. And you never really heal completely. But it can get easier.

Where Are You God?

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Dear No One,

I’m going to get a little personal. And vulnerable. Bear with me here folks.

My two boys got baptized today. Daxon is two and Pacyn is three months.

GAH!! They are the cutest, right?! I thought you’d think so.

Anyway, you may wonder why we didn’t baptize Dax earlier and here’s the truth.

One of the biggest things I lost during the worst times of our infertility journey was my faith.

Infertility can strip you of so many things, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I let it control my life for too long. Rather than turn to God, I blamed Him. I drank. I cried. I fought with my husband. The only thing I thought I knew for sure in my life was that I was made to be a mother. And then He was going to keep me from that?!??! “Screw you, God.”

Yea. I know. It’s bad. But that’s where I was.

Fast forward to bringing Dax home in December 2016, and I wanted to sing God’s praises at the Christmas service that year. But as time slipped away, I found myself still questioning everything. When asked about baptism by family, I made excuses. “His adoption isn’t finalized. We’re moving. We just moved and need to get settled.” Etc.

But the truth was I was not ready to stand before God and my family and proclaim to raise my child in His church. That seemed too big of a promise when I wasn’t in a good place with my faith.

Time has continued on, and we have found a church we love. I found a group of women that show me love and grace as I continue to grow in my faith. I still question a lot. I still find myself turning away when things get…too churchy…if that makes sense at all.

But I can’t deny that two little boys became my sons in two miraculously beautiful ways. I know God played a huge part in that. And today, I’m thankful for that love. That after turning my back from the church and my faith, it has welcomed me back…no questions asked.

This isn’t me trying to preach at you. This is me being brutally honest and sharing one of the deepest parts of my heart with you.

And to say to anyone struggling with their faith, no matter why, that it’s okay. It’s okay to not be okay. Its okay to questions things. How would you continue to grow and learn without questioning and pushing for answers? It’s okay to struggle. Just know that you don’t have to struggle alone. Whether you find your strength through friends or family or faith, you do not and should not walk through this life alone.

I know now that I didn’t walk through my darkest days in the best way, and I know it’s easy for me to sit here and speak of what to do now that I have my two blessings. But believe me that just because I have hit this point in my journey, I still have hard days. I still struggle. I still question most things.

Growing our family comes with deep, long discussions. And time. And money. And sometimes feeling as though we are “playing God” when deciding when and how to grow our family. Infertility is still a part of our life. It always will be.

Although I still struggle, I choose to wake up and thank God every day for two of the biggest blessings in my life. And when I forget, my two year old reminds me when he tells me to pray at every meal. I’m choosing today to lean on my faith, lean on my husband, lean on my friends and family as I walk through this crazy life.

I’m not perfect, and I’m guessing you aren’t either but show yourself some patience and grace as you continue to grow. There will be dark days. There will be bright, beautiful days. Choose to love yourself through them all. You’re worth it.

Today I was proud and humbled to see both my boys baptized, and I will do my best to stand by the promises I made to both my boys and God.

What a bright, beautiful day in my life. I thank God not only for this day but for the darkest days that led me to this bright one. And I pray you find the support you need (faith, family, whatever you want) to get through your worst days.

All my love,

Betsy

NIAW: Take Back Your Story

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Dear No One,

This week is National Infertility Awareness Week. Although 1 in 8 couples experience infertility, it is still isolating. And you soon find it taking over your entire life.

You start planning around ovulation. Trying to be as healthy as possible (just in case!) you get pregnant. You fall into a depression and believe a baby is the only thing that can bring you joy. With IVF, our lives were quickly consumed with doctor appointments, shots, procedures, tests.

Before we even started IVF, Marcus requested a week off over our 5 year anniversary, which happens to be this week. We weren’t sure what we would do or where we would go, but we wanted a vacation away with just the two of us.

Well I had assumed we would do the transfer immediately after our egg retrieval in January, but my body had other plans. Our transfer was pushed back 6-8 weeks into March.

I struggled with being patient and having to wait. One day, I broke down to Marcus. How could we plan the trip in April? What if we were newly pregnant and I didn’t feel good? What if it didn’t work, and we were prepping for another transfer? How would I deal with shots while traveling? What if we were just too broken to enjoy a trip?

We decided, on that day, to stop letting infertility control every moment of our lives. Let’s just plan a trip! Let’s do it. No matter where we are or what we’re doing in the process of IVF, we decided we would need a break anyway.

Now that I’m sitting here next to the pool, in 90 degree weather, next to my stud muffin of a husband, I am so glad we did this. Yes, I don’t feel great. (Marcus is enjoying most of my meals that I order.) Yes, I have to do shots every evening. But I am so grateful to take a step away from our daily routine to simply be together and enjoy ourselves. And take in the beauty around us.

Infertility can consume you. There are reminders everywhere of the pain you carry. Whether you just need to find a support group or take a timeout from trying to conceive or need a whole vacation away from “real life,” do it. Remember the life you had before infertility. Take time to realize there is more to enjoy than just building your family. Take back your story.

With that said, never give up. Your family may not look exactly like what you planned. Every step will be hard. Infertility will change you. Let it. But don’t let it take your life away.

To all my infertility warriors, you are stronger than you think. I hope this week brings light to the darkness of infertility by showing us all that we are not alone.

All my love,

Betsy

IVF Video

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Dear No One,

Here’s a little video of our IVF journey. For those of you still struggling, I know what pregnancy announcements can do to you. Just know, I have been there. I am praying every day for you all to grow your families, and that our journey may give you some hope.

All my love,

Betsy