{From a Deseret News Article Nov. 24, 2015.}

I love to hike. Have you ever noticed, though, that the most beautiful vistas always seem to follow the toughest hikes? I have yet to travel on easy, flat terrain that has led me a short distance to a jaw-dropping view. No, it always comes after effort, often some time, and many times steep inclines and switchbacks. I usually want to give up before I get there. When I reach the end of the trail, however, I am so grateful that I didn’t give up because the final destination is always better than I’d imagined.

I have so many things in my life to be grateful for. A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to spend several hours in Denver. I walked around downtown exploring and even got a haircut! As I talked with the girl who cut my hair, she repeated back to me what I had just told her, “So you write children’s books, teach a few English classes online and get to spend the day with your five beautiful children?” I smiled and affirmed that yes, that was my life. She said, “You are living the dream!” I was taken aback by this young girl’s statement. My life is not glamorous or even remotely easy, but it is exactly what I want and need.

Most times when I write a list of things I am grateful for, I can go on and on for a long time thinking of all of the happy, positive things in my life. It is only when I am being truly introspective that I realize one of the biggest blessings that imposed itself on my life for nearly 6 long years: infertility.

My husband and I were married in May of 2003. Our twins—the first of our five angels—were born in 2009. That’s the short version. The painless version. To be honest, though, those years were full of heartache. I prayed—begged and pleaded—to be a mother. I had decided not to pursue a full-time teaching job right out of college because I knew that I wanted to stay at home with our children and I felt that if I started teaching, I’d never want to leave. I knew I’d love it. I worked for a few years as an office manager for student housing. During that time, I met thousands of amazing people who came and went quickly because of the transient nature of student housing. I still have kind notes they have written me and fond memories in my heart of the many people I met during that time. I learned a lot about the kind of mother I wanted to be (and the kind of mother I didn’t want to be).

By the time my husband graduated and we moved to Houston, I had already attended at least 50 baby showers (it felt like 500) for other expectant mothers and I cried at nights wishing it could be my turn to hold up the cute onesies and receiving blankets. I thought I was ready to be a mother. I decided to stop attending baby showers.

We signed a four month lease for an apartment in Houston while we searched for our first home to purchase. We were still hopeful that miracles would happen and children would join our family. Plus, we were both so tired of living in apartments with shared walls and distant parking. We were ready to settle in to our own home, even if we didn’t “need” it yet. So in November of 2006, we bought our first house. It is the home we are still living in today.

For the first year that we lived there, the house looked much like I felt: empty. I started to think that this miracle I had wanted my entire life would never happen. I served in church, worked a random job at a scrapbooking store and sought out doctors from any friend who would recommend one to find out what was wrong with me. It was a painful time. We got a puppy, trying to fill the empty void that was gnawing at my insides.

It was like my heart was hungry. I couldn’t ignore it and those hunger pangs were constant. I was so blessed during that time to meet more amazing friends in the scrapbooking industry and a very dear friend who was also struggling with infertility and had been for longer than I. I clung to her and admired her strength. I am sure I sounded like an ungrateful baby to her, but I am eternally grateful for her patience with me and for her friendship. We spent tearful Mother’s Days together and the four of us even went on a vacation together. As lonely and isolating as infertility can be, I felt like I had someone who could understand how I felt for the first time.

This friendship helped give me the confidence I needed to leave the little scrapbooking store job I had been hiding in and to pursue my passion of teaching. I began taking the courses to receive my Texas teachers license. A few short months later, I was shopping for a suit to wear to interviews with this friend and not long after that I landed my first teaching job: 8th grade English. I loved—and still love—being a teacher! I am so grateful for that experience. I learned so much about how to be a parent from being a teacher. I learned a lot about kids and a lot about myself. I felt fulfilled. As I came into my second year of teaching, I came to accept that if my only children were the ones I taught in my classroom each day and the ones I served through the youth program in our church, I would be grateful for those opportunities and I would stop complaining.

Soon into my second year of teaching, however, we discovered that we would be expecting twins! I will never forget the feeling that rushed over me and the instant healing I felt as I heard their heartbeats for the first time. Not surprisingly, I cried (I guess I do that a lot…), but this time I cried out of pure joy and gratitude.
Now on those toughest of days when everyone seems to be fighting or my kids seem to be intentionally pushing my every button, I remind myself, “I begged for this.” And the frustration I feel may not completely disappear, but it definitely lessens. I know that motherhood is not easy, but I lived a 6-year training program that has helped me be the best mother I can be. I will never take this life of mine for granted because I am now able to “live the dream.”

If I could go back in time, I would want to hug that heartbroken version of myself who still remembers what it felt like to be excused from an organized panel of leaders because I was “not a mother.” I would want to assure her that those painful Mother’s Day programs with adorable children singing sweet songs would not be painful forever. But, just as any metamorphosis, mine was painful out of necessity and I am the woman and the mother I am today because of those years of infertility. Because I am grateful for now, I am grateful for then because it helped me to reach this now. I am a completely different (and hopefully better) version of myself than I was back in 2003 and my children deserve that.  Now that I can see the bigger picture, I realize the wisdom in my six-year struggle and I would never want to go back and erase it (though I often wish I could go back and fix my own attitude though–it wasn’t pretty).

For those of you who have struggled or currently are struggling with challenges in your life, I hope you will feel the assurance that one day you will see how those challenges have helped to shape you and bring you to a better version of yourself. Our challenges are not the same because we are not the same, but the universal truth is we all have challenges. Wherever you are on your journey, I hope you will find joy and continue to trust that this challenge is not forever.
Keep hiking, friend, and be assured that you are in for some beautiful vistas when you reach the end of this trail.

If you know someone who might be going through something difficult right now who may need to hear a little reminder to hold on and the light will come, please share this.

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