Hello, dear ones.
I know it's been awhile.
There's been so many times I've wanted to write or felt like I should and either didn't or couldn't. I have four or five drafts of various posts that will never be published. I didn't know how to go forward with all I've been feeling.
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. There are a lot of things going around my Facebook news feed. Some of them feel like a virtual warm hug of understanding. Some of them feel like a knife in my heart. It's hard not to take everything personally, but I'm learning.
It's been almost a year since we found out and in some ways it gets easier and in some ways it is more difficult. I'll try to communicate what I've been learning and feeling better in the future.
Let me say, it's a daily adjustment. I think about our infertility every day. At first it was sad and hurtful every day. Now, it can just be a passing thought, a wondering. I still cry. I still ask God a lot of questions. My husband holds me and I can't stop him from feeling like there's nothing he can do. I need to say that before I say what's next, because I don't want anyone out there to think it's easy. I don't want anything to believe that my hurt has ended. I also don't want anyone to believe that it consumes me. It is a struggle, but I've learned to struggle.
1. Baby showers have been very, very difficult this year. I'm so sorry if I missed yours. There comes a point when I realize that sitting in a room with a lot of mothers or moms-to-be or hopeful newlyweds will be unbearable if I have a breakdown. Just like any traumatic or life-altering experience, there are triggers that will bring you right back to that first moment of realization. Baby showers have been that for me. Facebook pregnancy and birth announcements can be cried over at home with a cup of tea and my husband's hand to hold. I've not been able to pump myself up enough to risk falling apart in front of a lot of people who don't know me or what I'm going through.
2. This sadness doesn't mean that my "Congratulations!" or "I'm so happy for you!" aren't genuine. Not by any means. If I'm saying it to you, I mean it, From the bottom of my heart. There are times to rejoice and times to mourn. It becomes easier to rejoice with you when I'm giving my heart to the Lord. It becomes easier to mourn when I look around me at what I can't have. When I hold your newborn baby and cry, it's with both a heart full of joy and a heart full of pain. But because of Jesus, the joy outweighs the pain more these days. That brings me to
3. I am a weak and wretched sinner, saved by grace through Jesus' sacrifice on the cross for my sins. I walk with him daily and very imperfectly. My "hard days" are fewer and further between since I realized what the true pain was. It was coveting. Jealousy comes from coveting what I can't have. Joy is coming from realizing what I do have. I have a lot of children and babies in my life and coming into my life. They're being born to their mothers and fathers, but I get to take part in that. Because I live in community with my fellow believers, they bear my burdens and multiply my joys. Husband and I are able to be part of their children's lives and love them in a way that's unique to us. My heart melted as I looked over at Husband at our friend's house the other night. He sat on the couch with a 4-year-old in his lap, a 5-year old at his side and a 2-and-a-half year old near his shoulder, all of them giggling as he took turns tickling each of them. When I see him hold our friend's newborn, I thank the Lord for the opportunity to love their children and also be there for them when they're in need. Because of Jesus, I can talk to my friend with children and confess to her that sometimes I do get jealous of her life, even as she confesses to me that she is sometimes jealous of my life, and we can love and forgive each other. We can do this together. A friend of my parent's who understands exactly what I'm going through because she went through it, too, told me about the joys of opening my eyes to all the children God has given me and Husband through others. I appreciate that so much more when I realize
4. Isolation is always the tool of the enemy. I always feel worst about infertility when I feel alone. Left out. Left behind. It's awkward to be open with people. It's awkward when people know what Husband and I are dealing with and still don't know what to say to me. It's okay. It's all totally okay. It's awkward to live life close to other people. When someone says something hurtful unknowingly, there is grace and forgiveness there. When I am having a jealous day, there is grace and forgiveness extended to me. The best thing I can do is remind myself that it is not all about me. It is about living life as "us", as the body of Christ. That it is ultimately about Christ and what He did. My sacrifice and pain is nothing, nothing compared to His. I can live in the freedom that that knowledge brings instead of the slavery of what I don't have.
It's a difficult road to walk and I fail as much as I succeed. It's never "two steps forward, one step back" with Jesus, though. It's always that He walked the path for me, perfectly, because I never could. So in short, (or not so short!) I'm not bitter about infertility. I can't be bitter about it. Bitterness is another way to covet. I'm hopeful, so hopeful for the future. I don't know what the future holds at all, but that's where I have to be so I can fully trust in God's plan and not rely on my own. My hope is in Him. I don't know why, but I may never know why. I also don't need to know why. I just need Him. Mother's Day may be a trigger, but it's a way to communicate, not to isolate. It's an opportunity to allow others to understand and to bring understanding to me. It's also an understanding that I am responsible for my own feelings and actions.
I choose joy.
I choose celebration.
I choose to see all the blessings God has given.
I choose to share it all and hope to be shared with.
I choose love!
Thanks for taking a few moments.
Bianca
No comments:
Post a Comment