A Veer Off Course
It has taken a long time and a lot of inward work to get to a place where I can say, I have a sweet life and although there are unmet longings, it is good.
We had a wonderful and relaxing trip to Colorado in late July. Seeing Liv enjoy the simple pleasures of nature was such a gift. I didn't realize I've been living a life of shallow breaths until I arrived in Colorado. It was one big sigh of relief. One of my very favorite things about travel is (usually) no one knows you. You can flesh out and be more fully yourself or even experiment with what that looks like because no one would know any different. I always come back from travel a little better fit in my skin.
There is, however, the inescapable post-vacation let down - the return to reality. This trip was no different in that way - with one notable extension. I was late. Now, this in not the first time this has happened over the years of fertility struggle. And I'll tell you, it really sucks. When you long for something, everything becomes an imagined pregnancy symptom. You count days, try to figure out when you ovulated and if that lines up with...you know, and then you tell yourself, "Stop imagining things! That rationale may work for most, but this is not the way your story has played out. Why would this time be any different?"
Over the years dealing with infertility, pregnancy and adoption loss, I've allowed myself to believe that my life travels in straight paths. I may not see where it is going but my thought became once I saw the trajectory, the path would not deviate. The pattern had been set and all things moving forward would follow this pattern.
I've also wrestled with the idea of hope. A lot of times, the encouragement is to hope in a circumstance, but the more years on earth teach you circumstances are indiscriminate - things happen regardless of one's faith, goodness, or perceived worthiness. So where is hope's rightful place? In something solid and unchanging. I used fight hard against the idea that some desires for some people would not be met on this side of heaven. It seems unfair, inequitable, surely not good. I spent so much energy fighting, and then right before our Colorado trip I feel like I got to a place of acceptance. I came to a place where I was reminded there is a much larger narrative written by a writer much better than me.
I'm 37 and been trying to get pregnant for years. I've been to lots of doctors, had countless inconclusive tests, have damaged reproductive piping, but on August 5th I found I am pregnant. The little embryo that could made it's way through my mangled fallopian tube and decided to call my uterus home. I am no more worthy of this gift that countless others who wish to have a baby of their own. My faith is certainly no greater, my life no holier, and I am definitely no more worthy.
I, like everyone, have many questions to ask the Big Guy when we meet face to face and this element of my story produces some. But the one tiny sliver of clarity I've gained is this - growth and maturity is birthed from suffering if we let it. Nothing us can quite replace it. In the deepest pains, we can more clearly perceive how we view God, people, ourselves and the world and from there decide if there is a flaw in our long held perceptions. The choice is ours as to whether or not we will allow a bitter tap root to take hold or if we keep our heart soft and pliable.
I've spent the first two months in shock. I am and will continue to try to make sense of all of this. For now, it's a plot twist in a really sweet story from a good God.
We had a wonderful and relaxing trip to Colorado in late July. Seeing Liv enjoy the simple pleasures of nature was such a gift. I didn't realize I've been living a life of shallow breaths until I arrived in Colorado. It was one big sigh of relief. One of my very favorite things about travel is (usually) no one knows you. You can flesh out and be more fully yourself or even experiment with what that looks like because no one would know any different. I always come back from travel a little better fit in my skin.
There is, however, the inescapable post-vacation let down - the return to reality. This trip was no different in that way - with one notable extension. I was late. Now, this in not the first time this has happened over the years of fertility struggle. And I'll tell you, it really sucks. When you long for something, everything becomes an imagined pregnancy symptom. You count days, try to figure out when you ovulated and if that lines up with...you know, and then you tell yourself, "Stop imagining things! That rationale may work for most, but this is not the way your story has played out. Why would this time be any different?"
Over the years dealing with infertility, pregnancy and adoption loss, I've allowed myself to believe that my life travels in straight paths. I may not see where it is going but my thought became once I saw the trajectory, the path would not deviate. The pattern had been set and all things moving forward would follow this pattern.
I've also wrestled with the idea of hope. A lot of times, the encouragement is to hope in a circumstance, but the more years on earth teach you circumstances are indiscriminate - things happen regardless of one's faith, goodness, or perceived worthiness. So where is hope's rightful place? In something solid and unchanging. I used fight hard against the idea that some desires for some people would not be met on this side of heaven. It seems unfair, inequitable, surely not good. I spent so much energy fighting, and then right before our Colorado trip I feel like I got to a place of acceptance. I came to a place where I was reminded there is a much larger narrative written by a writer much better than me.
I'm 37 and been trying to get pregnant for years. I've been to lots of doctors, had countless inconclusive tests, have damaged reproductive piping, but on August 5th I found I am pregnant. The little embryo that could made it's way through my mangled fallopian tube and decided to call my uterus home. I am no more worthy of this gift that countless others who wish to have a baby of their own. My faith is certainly no greater, my life no holier, and I am definitely no more worthy.
I, like everyone, have many questions to ask the Big Guy when we meet face to face and this element of my story produces some. But the one tiny sliver of clarity I've gained is this - growth and maturity is birthed from suffering if we let it. Nothing us can quite replace it. In the deepest pains, we can more clearly perceive how we view God, people, ourselves and the world and from there decide if there is a flaw in our long held perceptions. The choice is ours as to whether or not we will allow a bitter tap root to take hold or if we keep our heart soft and pliable.
I've spent the first two months in shock. I am and will continue to try to make sense of all of this. For now, it's a plot twist in a really sweet story from a good God.
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