My emotions have felt a little off this last week. As our FET gets closer and closer, I should be getting more and more excited, right? Instead, I feel like this time off has given me too much time to think, analyze, think some more. Someone told me with such joy the other day that “this will be it!” and it made me want to laugh in their face. I’m afraid this last week I have become a bit of a skeptic. I read a section from a book the other day and felt exactly like the TTC author:
“Before I could get away my friend patted me on the shoulder. “My husband and I are believing God for a miracle for you. You never know. Maybe you’ll be a modern day Sarah.” I suppressed an irritated response. How many times had I heard that? More than I could count. I was sick of it. Sick of Sarah, sick of begging God for a baby, sick of being told to just have faith…” (Empty Womb, Aching Heart)
It felt a little too close to home. I am not angry, I am just tired of it all. I am frustrated that we have to do this again. I am scared that the outcome will be the same as the others. I keep seeing families around me getting older, adding new members and I feel old. I never ever pictured hitting my 8 year anniversary in July without a family full of children. I feel as if this journey has aged me. This next cycle feels like I am buying a lottery card. I HOPE I will win the jackpot but I don’t actually BELIEVE it will happen. I no longer can picture myself pregnant, no longer can visual our baby nursery and the thought of thinking up cute baby names makes me irritated and sad now as so many get taken by fertile friends.
I feel like I have become so used to things not working out, that the thought that they might actually work out seems preposterous. Confession – I actually rolled my eyes while praying the other night about getting pregnant. It was an unintentional act that appalled me as soon as it happened. Where did my faith go? How come my heart has become so cautiously skeptical?
I keep having these awful dreams where I find out I am 6 weeks pregnant and in my dream, go into self sabotage mode to do everything I can to cause a miscarriage. In my dream I am certain it will happen and want to spare myself the pain of bonding with the baby and having it catch me off guard, as the bleeding always has. They are horrible and I wake up abruptly, sad and scared. Why is it that even my subconscious is prepared for the worst, but never the best? Where did my dreams go where I am holding my baby? Changing diapers and playing outside with diapered children? At a baby shower that is actually MINE? It feels like I can’t escape.
It seems my heart has settled on that fact that maybe this isn’t in the cards for me. And I hate that. I am clinging onto the hope of having a child, but I want the belief that it can happen to come back. I am starting shots again this Wednesday and want to be excited at this chance and opportunity to have a child, not dreading going through the painful motions to only end up empty again.
In life, we go through seasons of doubt and fear, hope and joy. It does bring me comfort just scrolling through this blog to remind myself I have been in this place before. A place of neutrality. A place where I am feeling desperate. And a little lost to be honest.
I continue to cry out to God and wrestle with Him for the answers that my heart is searching for. I have to turn over that fear, doubt, frustration, sadness, hurt and pain to Him. As a devotional stated, “It’s better to shout at Him than to be silent, better to call him unkind than not to call on Him at all.” It’s so true and I am thankful He is willing to listen.
It’s comforting to be in a place where I am reminded that God doesn’t expect me to love my infertility or be happy about this journey. It isn’t my place to compare what God has done for others with what He has done, will do or could do for me. I have to remember that my life’s purpose may be different than yours and trust that it’s all part of a larger picture, a puzzle that He can see the final result of. All He asks, is that when I have my days, or in this case, my week, that I bring it to Him. That I am honest with my doubt and frustrations because, well, He knows anyways.
It’s not easy. I keep seeing these miracles happening to all of those around me and I can’t help but wonder “Why not me?”. Why do they get another baby, when I am just asking for one? I feel weary. Which is when Matthew 11:28 comes to mind and sits on my heart: “Then Jesus said, “Come to me, all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”
This isn’t something I need to handle on my own. It isn’t a battle that I am left alone to fight. Infertility feels consuming, but only if I let it consume me. If I take my eyes off of the One that should be consuming me, then I have lost all perspective.
So I keep fighting. I keep praying. I keep begging. I don’t know what this next month will bring, but I can only trust that if God has brought Josh and me to this path, then He will walk with us along it. That we will not be burned. That He will never leave us.
So I turn to you – my dear friends and faithful readers – asking for prayer as well. Prayers that my heart will be softened to believe that this is possible. That the dreams will go away. That the start of the shots in 2 days brings excitement for our potential blessing opposed to indifference. I could use a little encouragement. Not the “well, my friends neighbors cousins didn’t even have FALLOPIAN TUBES and she got pregnant so if she could, you can!” kind of encouragement. But I need cheerleaders – scripture, words of hope and promise, anything to re-energize me for round 3. I need a little caffeine boost to my heart.