Issue 58: Trying

Decisions, decisions, decisions. There are many decisions a man must make in his life that will change everything; what his career will be, whether he wants to get married – and if so to whom, and which professional sports team will determine his happiness or sadness weekly. Some decisions are one and done decisions. I decided to wear a hat this morning. No changing that now. But there are some decisions that you must make again and again and again. What to eat for dinner (the most difficult of the daily decisions), whether or not to continually go to Tennessee Vols home games knowing this is – in fact – not their year, and the decision to try to have a baby (and the decision to keep trying and keep trying knowing this is – maybe – the time it will work). 

I have a friend who is trying to have a baby. Although, “trying” may not quite be the right word. I’ve “tried” a lot of things in my life. I’ve tried to learn Spanish like ochenta y siete times. I’ve tried stand up comedy once. I’ve tried out for my middle school basketball team (it was political). At the beginning, “trying” to have a baby just meant they were no longer trying not to have a baby. While seemingly subtle, this change means not wanting to plan anything more than nine months in advance just in case. This becomes making the most of this Christmas or summer as a two because soon everything is going to change. Eventually, it becomes two parallel realities coexisting the moment a period is late. Schrödinger’s cycle. As “not trying not to” fully becomes trying, it becomes focusing on doing the things you can no longer do when you do have a baby; becomes if you do have a baby; becomes, “there is always next month”; becomes, “I guess we’ll just have to keep trying.” Maybe, once, it becomes feeling guilty about that month they were relieved it hadn’t happened yet because they were just really looking forward to their friend’s wedding in September. In a sense, it really is trying and they are trying but “trying” suggests they could be trying harder, suggests they are not trying hard enough, suggests they are trying and failing. Some say it is insane to keep trying the same thing and expecting different results but they honestly don’t know what else to do. At some point, “trying” becomes aching, becomes longing, becomes praying. In some ways “trying” is a major act of faith. You can try harder to learn Spanish or get back on the stage or even work on your basketball fundamentals, but some “trying” is completely beyond your control. Maybe “hope” is the best word. It often is. Because “hope” still comes with doubts. I’m just hoping that their hope does not run out. 

I have a friend who is hoping to have a baby. Although, “have” may not quite be the right word. A few months ago, my brother, Cole, recommended a book to me titled, “Goodbye, Again.” It is a collection of essays and drawings and scattered thoughts. There is a passage in it that stuck out to me: “I have tried to become more attentive to words that treat natural elements of ourselves like currency: ‘paying attention,’ ‘spending time,’ ‘wasting energy.’ I have tried to catch myself whenever I use words and phrases like this, and when I do, I try to use other words – ‘giving attention,’ ‘sharing my time,’ ‘using my energy’ – but I have to go against this immediate, split-second resistance to using words that do not promise that I get something in return for ‘spending’ myself on something.” I’ve always been very particular about my words. I don’t like when people speak in absolutes, as the poet Justin Bieber once wrote, “Never say never.” I go out of my way to avoid promising anything I cannot guarantee. “I will try my best” is often used in place of “I will” in my conversations. So, I loved the author’s intention of avoiding words of expectation for words of allocation. In the same way, I don’t think my friend is really looking to have or own a baby. I think they would rather create one. Words shouldn’t imply investment needing return, nor should they be more concerned with ownership than creation. Let’s be honest, if that day comes, their baby will own them way more than they will own their baby. What I’m saying is my friend isn’t hoping to have a baby, but I really think they’d like to make a baby.

I have a friend who is hoping to make a baby. Although, “friend” may not quite be the right word. More like “friends”. There is the friend who told me a few years ago that they thought now might be their time but they hadn’t mentioned it since so I figured maybe they just changed their mind. The friend whose husband isn’t against it, but wants to wait before thinking of kids and yet her body is different than his so she is not sure she can take that risk. The friend who takes prenatal vitamins everyday to help prepare her body to be strong, but when you’ve been trying to be strong for two years, you can only hold things lightly for so long. The friend who would be such a great mom, according to everyone she knows, she just thought that she might have a partner by now and doesn’t want to do this alone and she is trying to find that person. The friends who, before they could share the good news, found their hearts broken wondering if they’d ever be able to carry a baby full term. They are all trying, and aching, and longing, and praying. 

I have friends who are hoping to make a baby. Although, “baby” may not quite be the right word. Because, of course, babies are cute in the way that puppies are cute or those little travel sized bottles of shampoo are cute. Friends’ babies are perfect and innocent and pure and even the not that cute ones are cute because they are little miracles. But most of my friends who have babies are exhausted. Having friends that do have babies is ideal because you get to hold and love on them and then give them back without the paralyzing fear of them discovering new ways to die. You get to hear them laugh without dealing with the fact that the only other way they know how to communicate is to cry and they have learned to scream at a specific pitch that cuts through to your soul and all you really learn from those screams is a growing list of things you cannot control. And I know it must come with waves of unconditional love, but some of their stories make it just seem relentless. And anyway, I’m sure the best part is the next part because you are not just making a baby, but a child. As I hear people say often, “they grow up fast.” They have not only learned to walk and talk, but to run through the house screaming “Dad!” And when you do anything that they think is funny, they will ask you to do it again and again and again; forever. In any given situation they would rather run and play than sit and chat and I’ll be honest, I’m 29 and sometimes I still feel like that. When they’re at that age, they do not have fun, they make fun, a skill I hope I, and they, never lose. Then, I assume, you white knuckle your way through the teenage years always telling your spouse, “they get that from you” and hoping they remember even one thing you taught them. Until, one day, they are not just a child anymore. They will tell you that they want to be an anesthesiologist, so they can help people, and you will say that sounds like a good idea. Until a few years later they will tell you they have changed their mind. They want to switch from medicine to business so they have more time to write silly newsletters. And you will say, “yeah, that actually sounds a lot better and honestly way more useful to society as a whole.” And while you cannot possibly know how it turns out, you will still be there when they cry and it will still cut through to your soul and you will have added to your list a thousand times over things you cannot control. There will come a time where they no longer go wherever you go, but they will look and act more and more like you every day, for better or worse, and they won’t want to admit it. You will know as long as you can watch them grow, you will still grow. And when they value creativity over ownership, or maybe run a marathon (or half) every now and then, you will know that some of that is down to you and you will make sure they know that you are so proud of them. Because you are not just making a baby, or a child; but a life. 

I have friends who are hoping to make a life. And so am I. Which, at this point, may not come as a surprise. And I have tried to write about this. And I have tried to hold it lightly. And I have tried to not get my hopes up, but I love getting my hopes up. When I have heard somebody say they are expecting a baby, I realize that is what I had been doing for my whole life. Expecting. And when friends do announce they are pregnant, I am genuinely thrilled for them. Except for the one person who joked it was an accident because they weren’t really trying when so many of us are trying. I secretly hope their baby is born with weirdly big hands or something, but then I’ll meet them and they will be cute and perfect. I guess that’s ok too. And I’m so grateful to the friends who knew what we were going through and so were sensitive to us when sharing their incredible news. I love my friend with kids, who he obviously loves with his entire heart, who tells me to enjoy the time now without kids because it is so nice. And it really is. The hardest part is the not knowing. Being stuck in the in between of now and might never come to be. But I know that right here, right now, my life does not feel incomplete. If the hope is not realized, I am not unfulfilled. And whatever comes to pass, I am so grateful Niki is with me. I still think I’d be a good dad, but I guess it’s hard to know. I’ve just had a head start on my list of things I cannot control. While I cannot possibly know how it turns out, I have these friends, and I have hope, and I am already making a life; or at least, I am trying. 

The above was written a few months ago and worked on for a while. In fact, it was probably not going to ever be published. I have written about and advocated for vulnerability and honesty, but honestly I didn’t think I could share that. While I have yet to bleed for the Daily Dispatch, I have  put my sweat in during those few months our AC didn’t work, and now can say I have put my tears into it. As most of you may have seen on social media this week, Niki and I are pregnant. Which led to a whole new kind of tears. It is the answer to a million prayers and the beginning of a million more. We tried for a while, prayed for a while, and hoped for a while. 

When Niki and I were engaged, I read a book about marriage. In it, there was a section talking about how much joy you can find in serving the person you love. One of the joys of marriage is putting someone else before you day after day. I remember knowing Niki was absolutely the person I was meant to be with when I saw the way she did that naturally and felt so excited to try and out serve her. While not every day is perfect, while I’m not always “feeling like it”, I genuinely love trying to anticipate and meet her wants and needs in life. I already love our unborn daughter so much. Since the moment we started trying, I’ve been praying for the Lord to work on my heart. From the moment Niki showed me the pregnancy test, I’ve been thinking of ways I can anticipate and meet my child’s every need. From the moment we opened the envelope and read, “It’s a girl!” I’ve been wrapped around her barely developed finger. 

While we are incredibly excited, and while I’ve been looking forward to sharing this wonderful news, I didn’t want to omit the reality that led to this moment. Our experience in trying, hoping, and praying for a biological child is not rare, nor does it make our daughter any more of a miracle than someone who got pregnant right away. Nor does this feel like the end of that road. I imagine there will come a day when we decide it is time to hope for another life. Adoption has always been, and continues to be, part of our plans. I imagine that will come with its own list of things we cannot control. 

My life is defined by faith in God. Through that, I believe He has a plan for my life. I believe everything has a reason and a purpose. Around a year into trying, Niki and I were discussing possible reasons the Lord had for “not yet”. After going through all the things He might be trying to teach us and prepare us for, we reached the conclusion, it might not be about us at all. Maybe the future best friend of our child hasn’t been born. Maybe our child will go to a school that hasn’t been created yet where she will learn from a teacher who hasn’t graduated yet and will thrive in an opportunity that hasn’t become available yet. If the Lord works all things together, then maybe some of those things require our waiting. I don’t know if that was the case or not. I will never know. The Lord doesn’t owe me knowing. However, it was an important lesson; it isn’t about you. 

This is about our daughter, my wife, my friends, and any of you who are trying, hoping, aching, or praying. This is about a continued realization of how much is out of my control. This is announcing there is someone else I now get the joy of putting ahead of myself. Se trata de que mi hija aprenda español, cómo contar un buen chiste y cómo hacer que alguien cometa una falta de tiro. It’s about getting my hopes up to make a life.