"We're not sure why this isn't happening for you both. You're both healthy and none of the tests show any issues." News that gave us equal parts of relief and frustration. That brought us right back to pleading with God...why? I'm not here because I have the answer. I don't, and maybe I never will until I can ask God himself when we meet. Instead, I feel compelled to write about the mercy and greatness of a God who still met me in the midst of bitterness, anger and a whole lot of questions.
As I opened up this website to start a new blog, I came across many, many drafts that I started over the last few years, but never finished or published. Every time I sat down to try and write about the pain we were facing, the words felt stale. A voice always prodded yes, but...don't you have enough to be thankful for? I am by no means a writer, but I understand the feeling of when the words come to you, and when they don't. I never felt like I could fully grasp the depth of everything I was going through and how could my heart be equally full of joy and gratitude for what I do have, yet empty and broken for the yearning to grow our family?
Instead, my close friends became my outlet, my lifeline. I am in awe of a God who knows what we need, when we need it. Who knew the people I would need in my life for weathering the seasons. I think of my dear friend who remembered the key days of the month and reached out every.single.month on that day to see how I was doing. That same friend who now is as equally excited as I am for my weekly growing bump pictures and reminds me about them the day before. I think of another dear friend who, having weathered this storm herself years before, cried with me through hours of talks and encouragement saying that it is in God's timing. A very true statement, even if I didn't want to hear it at the time. (But why doesn't God's timing add up with MY timing? Anyone?) A sister who could tell I wasn't doing well with one look in my eye and gathered me up in a hug so I could cry. Another who cried tears of joy with me over the phone when I told her our journey had ended with a positive test. And of course, a husband who walked through each and every step with me. Climbing the hills, and bearing the valleys together. A husband who picked up so many extra pieces that he deserves an award. But he'd be too humble to accept it.
I think back over this past season of life with tears in my eyes, but different tears now. Tears of humility toward a God that was right there next to me the entire time, even if I felt like he was far away some days. He was right there with a hug from a friend, a word of encouragement, a loving glance. I am so humbled by the fact that even through all the anger, most of it directed at him, God still reached down and breathed the life of a miracle that I wasn't sure I'd ever experience again.
It's funny how our plans so often differ from reality. How many of us can say that the life we expected, the life we hoped and dreamed for as kids and now as adults happened exactly how we thought it would? I would guess that answer is slim to none. I will never understand tragedy. I will never understand why people suffer in the way they do, through loss, disappointment, heartache, other than knowing that we live in a broken world. The exact explanations of each situation will always elude me, but I do know that I serve a God who loves me unconditionally, despite all my faults (and there's a long list of 'em). Through the lowest of lows, knowing that God is with me is my saving grace. My rock.
Maybe I will be able to use this experience to help someone else going through something similar. Maybe this was so that I could relate to someone who needs some encouragement, much like my dear friends provide me. Or maybe we just weren't supposed to have our kids as close together as I'd hoped.
I think about what it will be like to become a family of four. One thing I can say for certainty is I have no fear of not loving this baby as much as Judah; that ship has sailed my friends. This baby already has my heart as much as Judah does. But I think about how he'll be as a brother, how this pregnancy is different and how it feels the same as when Judah was in there. Thoughts I wasn't sure I'd be able to have again, yet there they are. It's funny how life works. The rough parts break you down and beat you up, yet we keep going. The joys fill our hearts so much that we don't think we can possibly feel any more love, yet our hearts find room to keep growing.
Today I am hoping that wherever you are in your journey of life, that you know you are loved. Through both the lowest of lows and the highest of highs, you are loved.
1 comment:
Beautiful. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.
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