I don't know about you guys, but my emotions seem to have an on switch. Every few months, I can feel the "infertility emotion" pushing up against the tough bubble I've created around it. I typically fight it for a few weeks, eventually hit full on meltdown mode, and the switch happens. The problem with eventually giving in and allowing the switch to turn on is that the off switch doesn't work. I don't get to call the shots anymore. It's as if simply acknowledging that I am still that girl who is indeed looking 2+ years of infertility in the face opens the floodgates.
And Now, We Wait…
I've never been very good at stillness.
Truthfully, each and every one of those terms makes me shutter. I've been on the move for as long as I can remember. I've always viewed time spent doing nothing as wasteful. Why be useless when I can be useful? Why rest when I can work? Why be patient when I can make it happen? Only recently have I learned the answer to that last question; because I no longer know what it is.
I've written and deleted some version of this post 3 different times. I started writing it on a flight to Vegas and gave up. I tried writing it on the way home from Vegas and gave up again (and by gave up I mean it took everything in me to breathe because we hit massive turbulence). I tried writing it a few days ago and I couldn't find words. This is attempt number 4. If I'm honest, it's because I don't really want to be writing this at all - but I need to.
Once that happens, It takes me weeks (months) to build up another bubble. There's a very real process that go through each time of convincing myself that I don't care, booking lots of trips to prove that I can still have a good life without a baby, and coming up with all the reasons why we can still do all the things we've been looking forward to that a baby would probably hinder.
And every time this happens, I begin another process of medications, fertility appointments, and research. I could feel this coming because in the last 2 weeks, I found myself checking out library books about IVF and getting lab work drawn from my family doctor at my request.
As much as these feelings tug at every piece of my heart, I'm still left powerless. We haven't tried everything, and there are definitely additional steps in this journey that we can take - and while every part of me wants to schedule the next appointment and move toward the next step, there's a tiny pit in my stomach that's telling me it's not time yet. Sounds confusing, right? Welcome to my life.
Over a year ago, after several unsuccessful rounds of Clomid, I told God that I wasn't going to do anymore fertility treatments until He told me it was time. This is the moment where I stop and praise Jesus for being consistent and keeping His promises when I most certainly don't. I got restless and without His signal decided to press forward with treatments again. After a few more months, injections, and ultrasounds, I felt weak, exhausted, alone, and discouraged - and I realized that I wasn't going to be able to force God's hands here. Talk about humbling - why would I ever believe that I could in the first place?
So as that same restlessness starts to creep up, I have to intentionally decide that this time is going to be different. I am crumbling under the weight of wanting to control this situation. I want to force this and to decide it's time. I want to be frustrated and angry. I want to scream out that life isn't fair. But this time, I'm going to wait. I'm going to sit in this. I'm going to cry about it, and pray about it, and use it to be a stronger wife. Most importantly, I'm going to be faithful in this season.
Honestly, I have this romantic story written in my head that God's going to use us and our journey to show how powerful and good He is. In my fairytale, we miraculously end up pregnant, without any medications or injections. We defy the odds and the diagnosis. We trust Him and His timing and He does what only He can do. Like Sarah and Abraham.
I don't know if that's how our story will play out or not, but I do know that God has a good plan, even if it's different than mine - especially because it's different than mine. I also know that He uses both miracles and medicine to bring those plans to life - I'm not sure which case ours will be, if either.
One day, I'm positive that I will look back on this story and realize that it wasn't a journey of infertility, but a journey of faith. Today, I'm going to do my best to live in the unknown. I'm reading a really great book right now called Wild and Free, and there's a quote that spoke to me. " The opposite of faith isn't doubt, it's control."