Thyroid-related Infertility?

Putting together the pieces of my spotty health over the last five years and wondering why--after all this time--we haven't found ourselves expecting another.

For more than ten years, I was the family joke: "Fertile Myrtle." Every time I called a family member and said, "Hey! Guess what!" the response was invariably, "You're pregnant." Even when I wasn't.

Over the past three years when we were "trying" but not really trying, nothing. Just couldn't figure it out.

I did some research on the symptoms I've been having lately. I suspected my thyroid, and the search results included all of the same old signs: intolerance to cold, insomnia, dry skin, irritability, etc.

But then, the word jumped out and crushed me: infertility.

What???

That would explain a whole lot. It's quite possible I haven't been ovulating at all.

I read it. The possibility is 100% based in fact. But the only way I could know for sure is to see the doctor, and then get a referral to an endocrinologist, because every family physician I've ever seen has less of a working knowledge of Hypothyroidism than I do.

So, I don't know for sure, and this is worse than knowing it's true.

Stepping from the Brush: On Repentance

Someone's been fervently praying for me. I can feel it. I can always tell when the Holy Spirit floods into my shadowed encapsulation, begins fighting off the darkness, and then fills the gaping wounds inside even though I've been too weak to pray for myself.

He has, He has.

For many months now, I've felt as if I've been walking along the overgrown edge of God's path, beyond a fenced barrier. I've cut my feet on the thorns, had to claw my way through thick vines and branches to stay close enough to His road so I can still see it.

And I've been mindful how smooth the soil is on the way He paved for me, how it will always lead to His lighted city, no matter how dark the valleys or how steep the hills become on the way there.

Someone has prayed a break in the barbed wire, and I stand here with a clearing wide enough to squeeze through, and He waits there, just an arm's length away. All I have to do is walk toward Him, and the rest of the journey will be safe and secure.

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It's better for me to wait a while before I seek the company of other faithful Christians. We're all flawed, but at this fragile juncture, any pressure or accusations or negativity from other believers could be detrimental. Not that I am easily jaded, but I'm easily turned against myself, and self-loathing and self-punishment is NOT God's way.

Repentance is indeed sorrowful. The process of being broken is painful in its own way, but the sense above all others is a predominant love and adoration, a deep gratitude to Christ for making me whole.

When I'm genuinely repenting, the feeling that overwhelms should not be self-hatred, should not be an unholy shame that would drag me farther away from God instead of toward Him.

It's so easy to fall victim to those falsehoods and lies. I think most Christians are well-meaning, and they want more than anything to share the brokenness and the victory that follows it. But many folks get caught up in what they believe is an established process, that a person should go into salvation on one side looking like filth and come out on the other side looking like them.

Spiritually speaking, yes--we do come out of the other side of salvation with a clean soul, washed by Christ's blood, ready to be presented before the throne. But the flesh...life...the every-day...that takes time, discipline, determination, self-control, willpower, practice.

It's almost as if I'm recovering from an addiction to fleshly living. It's a fragile time. I'm vulnerable and exposed. I need to steep in the Spirit, strengthen my bond with Him, allow Him to build me up so when the time comes for me to reenter fellowship, I'll be strong and secure in Him, impervious to the lies that may rob me of my confidence in Christ's profound sacrifice.

It begins with prayer. It began with someone else's prayer for me.

I can pray for them, too, and even if I don't know who they are, God does.

And then I can pray for myself.

Advent Activities

So we're celebrating Advent this year, even though we're not Catholic. The homeschooling group gave me several fantastic ideas for projects, so we're going to try to do them all.

• Fill the Advent calendar with nightly family activities, like "Play a game," "Make a special dessert," "Watch a Christmas movie together," etc.
• Use each night of Advent to add another figure to the nativity, and do some reading and discussion about each figure's role in the birth of Christ.
• Make an Advent "wreath" from house candles set into a bowl of beans. Wrap each candle in the appropriate color ribbon (especially since we'll just have to make do with the candles we already have, since we won't be able to buy any). Decorate with nature findings, like tiny pinecones, seeds, holly, etc.
• Bake a Christ Child's Birthday Cake. I'm letting the kids choose what flavor, and they'll decorate it themselves. On Christmas Eve, we'll set a candle in the center (I'm afraid we can't do 2008 candles), sing 'Happy Birthday, Jesus', and blow out the flame.

Next library trip, I'll poke around the shelves to see what we can find on Advent readings. I suspect we'll default to the Children's Bible anyway, or at least supplement.

Hopefully, the library will have a pretty good selection of Christ-centered story books in the children's section. We could probably endeavor to read them all if I came up with a good book list.

Rethinking Modesty & the Teenager's Computer Privileges

Charity slept over last night. She didn't want to go home to an empty house on Thanksgiving, so we welcomed her. Mr. Plainview won't be home from work until Monday anyway, so I dragged out the air mattresses, and Charity and I stayed up late talking after another helping of the dinner leftovers.

Somehow, the conversation turned toward the matter of dress again. Neither one of us has been paying very much attention to it since her divorce and my last run-in with the in-laws. She can't very well preserve much modesty working in a casino bar, and the external pressure to "wear pants" finally did me in.

It makes me angry to think I gave in on something I believe. I don't know if I'm more upset with the people who pressured me, or myself for allowing them to get to me.

In any case, I'm getting to the point of not caring anymore what other people say and think about me. I don't make it an issue. It's very unfair to allow everyone else to.


And now James and I are butting heads. He was up till 3 AM chatting online with his girlfriend, after he bade us all "goodnight" and acted as if he were going upstairs to go to sleep. It's not just his disregard for responsibility and good sense (getting up at 1:30 PM today), but the overt deceit he employed in going about it.

I took his keyboard, phone, and cell phone until I "figure things out," but I think I'll keep them until Mr. Plainview gets home. He'll bring some rationale to the situation and sort of temper the consequences. At this moment, I am all too inclined to ground the kid again for the week and curb all communications outside the family.