We get by with a little help from our friends...

...even if you've never even met those "friends" before.  I started feeling sorry for myself again today...mostly because I woke up with a horn growing between my eyebrows thanks to the drugs I've started taking again.  Not only do I get to wake up multiple times throughout the night due to the hotflashes I'm enduring, but now I get to resemble a rhinoceros.  Great.

So, I got on the internet to research acne treatments for women trying to conceive.  I can tell you that before I started this whole ordeal, I had pretty good skin.  Not model good, but it was fine.  For almost two years now, I've been unable to use any "real" acne medications and although I'm not quite positive they would help (I'm sure this is the result of hormonal fluctuations and stress), it would be nice to know that there was something with some proof of help in my future.  So, that brings me back to being on the internet...and I get on http://www.thebump.com/.  I tend to quietly lurk around the "Trouble TTC" (trying to conceive) board reading about everything from side effects of drugs to inspirational stories and vent sessions.  I think I've only made posts twice and both times were shortly after my miscarriage - just responding to other poor women who were experiencing the same loss as me.

One thing I stumbled upon tonight is a little poem that really hit me where I needed it.  I'm sharing it now in hopes that it helps me remember what all of this was for...since I can't really find a reason for it on my own (and I'm totally someone who believes everything happens for a reason). 

We do all get by with a little help from our friends, even those friends we have never really met before.  To my new friend, thank you.

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There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss, and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child. I have longed and waited. I have cried and prayed. I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.

I will notice everything about my chid.
I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore, and discover.
I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.
I will be happy when I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me.

I count myself lucky in this sense; that I have been given this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that I am led to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured.
I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain. I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed. I have succeeded. I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes, I will be a wonderful mother.