life update – Natters Matters

God Laughs

Growing up has a lot of hard lessons. One of them for me has been learning that God’s timing and plans for me are usually very different than what I think and intend on doing. This has developed into me saying: “God laughs at me.” I do not mean that God is pointing at me and mocking me as I am tripping over myself and face planting into the mud. What I do mean is the laugh that a Sunday school teacher has when a small child bursts out an answer that she has no idea from where it came. I just mean that as soon as I think I figured out what I am supposed to be doing, something unexpected happens and flips everything on its head for better or for worse.

I could point out a lot of different smaller examples of where and when I had to learn this lesson. I will say that after having a sister very unexpectedly passing away of brain cancer, I did begin to realize that there is no guarantee of stability in plans. Another way of putting it would be that the words of the Apostle James were hitting a little closer to home.

“Come now, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go into such and such a town and spend a year there and trade and make a profit”— yet you do not know what tomorrow will bring. What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes. Instead you ought to say, “If the Lord wills, we will live and do this or that.””
‭‭James‬ ‭4:13-15‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Plans are not a bad thing. I was just learning that you cannot cling onto them too tightly.

Not to say that loosing a sister wasn’t hard, it still remains the hardest thing I have had to live through. Just this particular lesson of learning to let go of my timing and trusting God’s timing, hit really hard shortly after my husband and I got married.

Baby Fever

We started trying for a baby almost immediately. I was currently working a full time job at Walmart and feeling very trapped in it when all I wanted to do with my life was to raise little humans. We both wanted lots of kids and had come from big families so we thought that it would be quick and easy.

Like I said though, God has other plans.

Six months went by and nothing happened. I was confused and sad, but I mean, it was just the first six months. The average American couple takes about six to twelve months to conceive a child at least according to my best friend, Google.

Another six months went by, and that’s when the worries really started rocking me. What was wrong? We were both in our early twenties and relatively healthy people. Granted, we were not running marathons and eating organically, but it wasn’t like we were eating McDonalds every single meal while sitting on our butts all day.

I was scared to go to the clinic because I didn’t want them to tell me: “Yup, you can never have your own children because of the following fifty things we found wrong with you.” However, I did schedule an appointment in October, but I cancelled it last minute. I made myself stop taking pregnancy tests because every time I got a negative it just devastated me for two or three days. I tried to figure it all out on my own, but as I have said in my dog posts, Google is not ever a helpful place for me.

Stats on infertility in the US specifically

OBGYNs and Friends

I really struggled with trying to be happy and content where I was especially when the 18 month mark hit. I knew that I needed to trust God and his timing because it would be best. That little nagging worry would not stop haunting me though. What if I could not have my own biological children? What if we could never afford adoption? Then what? What was I supposed to do?

I wanted to just be able to grin and bear it with joy in trusting the Lord and his providence. The anxiety weighed me down heavily, and I could not seem to shut out the despair that was eating away at me. I was frustrated with myself. I had a lot to be grateful and happy for. I have a relatively easy life, it was just this one thing. Why could I not let it go?

Some days were better than others. I would have my good days, and then there were others where I was struggling to function. It reminded me somewhat of grief. Where it smacks in the face one day, and the next it’s like nothing ever happened.

Most people told me that everything would be fine. We were still really young, it was all going to be okay. I would often look at Josh and ask him: “do you really think that we will be able to have our own kids?” He would always say: “Yes, but even if we don’t, we will adopt.”

During this time period, Josh bought two books: “The Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment” by Jeremiah Burroughs for him and “Learning Contentment” by Nancy Wilson for me. He told me that he bought one for himself so it was not like he was trying to remove the speck out of my eye while a log was in his own. I was happy about it. I love getting new books, and Nancy Wilson’s words were very helpful for me in realizing that I needed to change my mindset to a much more grateful one. You can find Jeremiah Burroughs book here and Nancy Wilson’s here.

I finally went into the clinic. I left feeling both with some hope and frustration. On the one hand, I was getting help, on the other they told me a lot of things that I already knew. What was really helpful was when both of us got some labs done and I did some at home ovulation tests.

When it comes to infertility, statistically speaking, 30% of the time it’s the woman, 30% it’s the man, 30% it’s both, and 10% it’s unknown. We got the results back to find out that we had dodged the scary unknown category, but we had unfortunately landed in the fun category of both. My OBGYN told us that we needed to see a specialist at a fertility clinic because of being in the fun both category. We simply could not afford that. We also would have had some serious ethical concerns with that specific clinic in general.

On the one hand, I liked knowing that I was not crazy. We both had issues and that was all in God’s plan before we were even born. In my mind, God was teaching me both patience and contentment. I always thought of myself as a pretty content person up until this point. It really started to hit me how much I needed to work on trusting God to meet my needs. Not my wants and desires, but what I actually needed, God would always provide.

“But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6:30-32‬ ‭ESV‬‬

The problem with any fruit of the Spirit is that it takes time and discipline. No matter how badly I wanted it to be as simple as an on or off switch.

I tried to reorient my focus on getting a house rather than trying to conceive a baby, but that did not provide any peace and bred more discontent and dislike for our current living space. Patience and contentment were what I needed to focus on in that moment. Hence why the books on contentment came in so handy. We could not do anything more about the problem at hand except pray and trust God.

Breaking My Own Rules

About a month and half later, I was two days late so I took a pregnancy test just in case even though I knew it was a bad idea. As I expected, it came back negative. No surprise, my period had been super late before and no baby.

My period kept at bay the next day…

The next week…

I prayed, “Lord, please if this is not a pregnancy please bring my period back sooner so I’m not just sitting here in limbo.”Limbo was just the worst. The last time I was in limbo was when we were six months married, and I had been so sure that I was pregnant. It landed super close to Christmas time, and I thought that it would be a super fun little Christmas present, but nope, no baby.

This time reminded me of it all over again. Mother’s Day was right around the corner. Even though I could have taken a pregnancy test then, because my period was the latest it had ever been. I knew that if it had come back negative on Mother’s Day that I would not be able to function for the rest of the day, and I really did not want to do that to myself so I waited a few more days.

Then finally on May 11th, I took another one and just walked out of the bathroom immediately without taking another glance at it. I did not want to sit there and just watch only one line form. The timer counted down the minutes on my phone while I continued on with my morning routine praying for a miracle, and if not that, strength to stomach another disappointment.

The timer went off, and I walked back into the bathroom expecting the worst, praying for the better. No matter what I took I always got one line. Ovulation tests and pregnancy tests were no different. It always was one singular line mocking me. In a way, my period just stopping for no reason was to be expected. My OB told me that it made no sense that I even had a period in the first place. Since I had been to see her, it had been acting funky.

God Laughs

Whenever I think I have figured out exactly what God wants for me in that time, something almost always happens to contradict my perception. This time was no exception.

There was not just one line. There were two lines. Not one very dark line and a faded line, two very dark lines.

Stunned, I had to look up and make sure that two lines meant pregnant. Obviously it did, but I had to be absolutely 100% sure before I could let myself get super excited.

I looked at my phone screen. I looked at the test. Yup, two lines meant pregnant.

Poor Josh was sound asleep at the time, and I could not wait. I rushed over to the bed and started pulling him to get up. Confused he started to ask me what was going on thinking that he had slept too long. I just told him that he needed to come and see.

I dragged him into the bathroom where I had my phone still with the Google page open and the pregnancy test on the sink. I pointed it to him and waited. It took him a minute, but once he did get it, he turned to me with a big smile on his face and said, “told you so.”

Editors Note

I add this part because I feel as though it needs to be said for those of you out there who might still be in the struggle and trial of waiting for a baby. I cannot promise you that a baby will happen for you. I don’t have any secret magic cure that will make a baby happen for you today. That was not the point of this post.

I did not deserve this baby. This baby did not come because of anything me or my husband tried or did differently than the rest of humanity. We did not radically change our eating habits and lifestyles so as to super boost our fertility. God was simply gracious to us in his timing and his purposes which are always best even though they really do not feel like it in the moment. He heard our prayers and the prayers of those around us. I know though that sometimes God says no. Trusting him is the hardest thing in the world sometimes, but the greatest peace can only come from trusting him.

I know some of you have been trying for much longer than we have. I have heard the stories of couples where it took anywhere between three years to ten to never being able to conceive. I can not imagine being in that place for so long, but if you’re a Christian, your Heavenly Father knows. Jesus knows your pain. All I can tell you is to cling onto Him always, and He will hold you fast. Does not mean that He will ultimately give you what you want, but it does mean that He will always be there in the midst of the trial and the eye of the storm.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”
‭‭Psalm‬ ‭23:4‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Potty Training Pt 1: The Crate

The next two weeks were a lot of work when it came to potty training.

For some reason, she would not go potty outside. I could not figure it out. She would stare at me when I waited for her to go. I would walk her outside for long periods of time, and nothing would happen. But as soon as I stopped paying attention to her inside, she would sneak into our spare bedroom or our bedroom closet.

I must have scared her really bad by mistake when she had that first accident. Whatever the case, we were desperate to get her to do ANYTHING outside.

I took her outside constantly, and nope, no matter how many times I brought her outside. As soon as we got indoors, it was her time to shine.

I cry about a lot of things. I’m a very emotional person… but I’ve never cried so much over poop and pee in my life.

We tried the “pee here” spray from the store which I had had high hopes for… but of course, she didn’t give a rip about it.

We wouldn’t have minded the potty incidents in the apartment quite so much if she had gone on the linoleum in the kitchen/dining room… but of course, she was too good for such things and had to have the luxury of soft carpet underneath her paws as she took a dump for the fourth time today. (Legitimately, she would sometimes take four craps a day.)

Thankfully, my husband is a genius and bought carpet protection from Menard’s which we put on all of the special places she had chosen for her pooping and peeing except for our closet… there we just tried to keep the door shut. It was still a pain to clean up, but at least in this case, she wasn’t destroying the carpet more than it already was at this point.

We quickly ran into another problem common to huskies: separation anxiety.

Growing up, we always had lab mixes and destructive anxiety wasn’t ever an issue. Occasionally a loaf of bread would get snatched off of the counter, but that could be easily attributed to labs just wanting to eat everything in sight. Regardless, Ginger was a whole new ball game.

The second time I left her home alone before we had to start crating her I came home to Josh’s guitars were all knocked over. She had destroyed my little fake plant and pooped in the center of the spare bedroom. Garbage had been spread through my dining and living room. Including the fruit loops that I had to throw away earlier that morning because I had mistakenly left them alone for more than a minute on the counter. Of course, now that she had been left home alone for two hours, she did not have any interest in eating them until she had ten minutes to calm down and realize I was home to stay.

Crating was another nightmare in of itself.

The first time I was super nervous, but when I came home nothing was destroyed or pooped on. So I thought, oh, she’s already crate trained.

I was very wrong in such fantastical assumptions.

I made this unfortunate discovery one day when I was home sick, and I don’t know why I did it, but I put her in the crate. I just wanted to while I napped. She did not stop crying and she loathed the crate entirely. The worst was when she would rock the crate back and forth knocking it against the wall. I panicked. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t stay home with her. I would go insane if I had to stay home with my dog and never able to go anywhere without bringing her.

I did a lot of panic googling at this time, and one of the things that the inter webs told me was that it can take up to six months to crate train a dog.

Six months…

It wouldn’t have mattered had our living situation been different. When you live in an apartment complex and you really, really don’t want to get a noise violation… it’s a whole other deal.

Despite my worries… noise was not the one I should have had high on my priority list.

Crate training and potty training are not a great combination… especially when the potty accident happens in the crate… and then the dog proceeds to dance in it.

The first accident was bad. Poop smeared everywhere and dried onto the bars. I immediately took her outside and then we hit the bathtub.

Second time was easier to clean, and she hadn’t quite trampled it everywhere. A

Accidents weren’t bad compared to what was coming…

She was strong enough to bend the bars and escaped one evening. As predicted, she did tear up the room and found a big bag of stuffing which got destroyed. The worst though was the carpet… she tried to dig herself out of the room and tore the carpet to shreds in the process.

Thankfully we were able to figure out the problem and did a temporary fix.

But that’s all it was, a temporary fix.

Another night, she did not escape, but I took one look at this kennel and realized that it was not worth salvaging.

See everyone tells you. Don’t get a husky. They are so much work, and even though you know that they are right, you get one anyways because you want a pretty and fun dog. I was like, “I can handle the energy.”

Energy was not the problem with this doggo. Just the minor things like poop on the carpet and destructive separation anxiety. Everyone wants to live in a home that smells of dog crap and destroyed flooring.

I was exhausted and very stressed out trying to keep this dog under control and not give up on her. I did not want to give her up. I don’t say that with the most noble of incentives. Money was a big incentive, meaning we’d already dumped a bunch of money into her. Also, despite all of the issues we were having, I still loved having a dog around and really did not want to go back to not having one.

But I thought…

The owner pulled up, and I got out of my car with money in my pocket not really sure what to expect.

I was surprised by the fact that her owner had brought her kids along. Immediately I had the feeling of dread that they would start crying and calling for the dog… but such anxieties were misplaced. They were quite content just playing on their iPads while their mom handed me all of the dog’s food bowls, food, toys, papers, and bedding… when I was just expecting the papers.

My brain was going a kazillion miles per hour, and I had a lot of questions that I should have asked, but I didn’t. The owner brought the dog out on a brand new leash and collar. My first thought was, “holy cow, she’s tiny.”

“Yeah, her parents were both super small.”

Now I’ve seen quite a few huskies… so when I say, this one was small. I mean that this was the littlest husky that I have come across that wasn’t a mix with something else.

Anyways, I brought her into my car and was overwhelmed by the fact that I actually owned a dog.

We drove back to the apartment, and this is where the anxiety and common sense finally woke up inside of me.

I walked her around the building a few times to make sure that if she had to go potty, she had the chance to. However, as soon as I brought her into the apartment, she ran into the living room and began to poop.

Panicked, I was definitely not the smartest and chased after her and brought her outside again… and she refused to poop in front of me.

Alright, one accident, no big deal, it’s still the first day.

Then a second issue arose, she wouldn’t eat… like anything… at all.

Naturally as anyone in my generation does. I quickly googled to see if all of this was normal for a dog who was rehomed. Yes, this was all very normal for a dog who was going through the transition process of one home to another.

The third issue was the breakdown point for me. I was looking through her shot record and realized something… her distemper was not updated. For anyone who hasn’t brought their dog into a boarding facility before, there are two (sometimes three) shots that are absolutely required before you can bring your dog in with the others: rabies and distemper.

Thankfully I had the rabies certificate in hand because otherwise I would not have been able to even get her into our apartment building.

I communicated with the owner, and the records that I had were correct. The distemper was expired… I called the vet clinic in a panic, and they couldn’t get her in for another two weeks.

Say what now?

My little plan was falling to pieces… which anyone with two eyes could have seen coming.

I thought I was bringing home a potty trained, up to date shots, big husky… but life is full of disappointments.

But I wasn’t gonna give up just yet… thankfully, my husband’s work ended when my work in the evening began. So for the next two weeks we were just going to have to tag team it which we did to the best of our ability.

Did I mention that this all was the kick off to our Thanksgiving week? After this experience I would not recommend getting a dog during the holiday season.

We are NOT getting a Dog

Despite me being the oldest and supposedly most responsible child, I have this very inconvenient personality clash. The clash is between my impulsiveness and then the anxiety that usually locks me into a plan so as to find security. This impulsiveness sends me out on quests that I somehow planned out within the span of two minutes and think that somehow there is nothing that could possibly go wrong. Consequently, things do go not quite to plan, my anxiety climbs in the drivers seat and runs me into a ditch where I lie there unable to comprehend a solution… even though there are literally hundreds of them calling to me from the edge of the ditch.

Getting a dog was one of those impulsive things where for some reason my anxiety and the more common sense side of my brain remained on sleep mode until the dog came into the picture. Then I could see the problem clearly, but before I go into that, I should really start from the beginning.

In my planner brain, my husband and I agreed on early in our marriage that despite us both loving animals. We were not getting a dog until we were moved into a house. Our first apartment did not allow any kind of pets, and both of us were working full time. We didn’t even have time to think about a dog.

Life changes though.

We moved to a pet friendly apartment, but I was still at Walmart working eight hour shifts. I remained firm in my position that we were not going to get a dog. Josh talked about getting a lizard for a little bit. A lizard, however, did not require nearly as much attention and work as a dog. A cat would be nice, but I did not like the idea of a litter box. I was slightly allergic to cats and dogs anyways so it would be an absolutely terrible idea for us to get any kind of furry critter in a two bedroom apartment.

I was getting bored and fed up with the retail world though, and it was not long after we moved into our new apartment that I put in my two week notice without a job lined up. (Another impulsive quest for the win!) I knew the basic idea of what kind of job I wanted. At least two people had mentioned the idea of working with animals to me. I had never thought about it before, but I loved animals so I started calling all of the dog boarding and/or grooming places in the area. I knew that with the labor shortage that at least one should be hiring.

By God’s grace, I did find a job at a dog boarding and grooming business. (Yes, I did this despite being slightly allergic to animals. My love for animals is stronger than my allergies.) In the interview, they told me something that my random brain should not have heard… if I took the job, I could bring my dog/dogs to work with me. My future doggo could come and be my work buddy.

I kept telling myself after that however that we just couldn’t afford it. I had looked at the pet amendment for our apartment when we first moved in and was convinced that it was far too expensive for a couple where one of the partners was now working a part time job.

That’s when I made a mistake… I started looking at puppies and dogs on petfinder.com, gooddog.com, and different social media rehoming groups. The planner side of my brain starting churning out a plan. I would save up enough money to buy the very specific kind of breed that I wanted. It would take quite a while to save up for one since the breed I wanted was usually well above $1,500 in a lot of cases. The dog breed was called Samoyed.

Samoyed, known for herding reindeer in Siberia

I had started putting money away and things were going smoothly. I knew my goal, and I was going to stick to it… that is until something came across my screen that I really couldn’t resist…