I have one of those magnets on my refrigerator that says, “How are you feeling today?” It’s the one with all the difference smiley faces, each showing a unique emotion. It usually comes with a little circle magnet, allowing you to claim an emotion for the day. I don’t know what it is about naming how I am feeling, but whenever I circle the picture that most accurately reflects how I am doing, I walk away a little more satisfied.
Today I would need a lot of circle-shaped magnets to answer the question, How are you feeling today?
Although I could only come up with one positive descriptive word, I am actually not doing bad. By the same token, I am not sure I would say I am doing well, either. I just kinda am. Not good, not bad, just ____. I can not come up with a good all-encompassing word for it.
I feel like I am waiting to be told what comes next. I do not have any plans. In fact, I often wonder if I should be making some plans. In the next year and a half, I may need to figure out if I am going to go back to work. My youngest will be in school. Will there still be a need for me to stay home? Could we even swing it financially for me to stay home? Not likely. If I do go back to work, what in the world would I do?
I did not want to be here, yet. I do not want to think about what is next. I am not ready to be done having children. I do not crave the next stage. I crave the one I am in, the one that is quickly slipping away.
I saw a post by Jen Hatmaker being passed around Facebook. The post was about soaking in the moments with your kids while they are small and next to you because they slip away so quickly. Amen! I get that! If you need a good cry, just look back through old photographs of even 5 years ago. A lot happens in a year. A lot happens when those years are added together.
It has been 3 years and a half a year all added together since we started trying for child #3. A lot has happened in that time. Nearly all of Joshua’s life has happened in that time, and he is now older than Alliyah was when he was born. Alliyah was just 3 when we got pregnant with Joshua. Joshua is 4, and we are still not pregnant. Time keeps ticking away, and there is nothing any of us can do to slow it down or reverse it. Our best option is to roll with it.
Learning to be content with where you are at is a challenge we all face at one point or another. Our topics may be different, but the challenge is shared: I wish this was different, but I can not do anything to change it, so now what?
At this point, I am going to throw out any attempt at writing eloquently and just write from the heart. Why does infertility suck so bad? What is the hardest part about it? Not knowing the outcome. Enduring all the challenges would somehow be easier if we knew it would all be worth it in the end. I think about all the money that we spent over the year we did fertility treatments, and it makes me sad, and a little angry. We have much better things to spend money on than to throw money at a dream only to not have it fulfilled. I know some people spend far more money that we did only to end up in the exact same boat. How frustrating.
It’s not like we blazed forward down the path all on our own. We sought God. We still seek him. We felt like he would bless the road including fertility medicine. He did, after all, with Joshua. Yet here we are. We have hit a dead end.
As a result, our seeking has looked more like begging lately. We have begged God to make it clear. Will we have another or do we need to move on?
Todd has asked, what do we need to do? More fertility meds? More acupuncture? Silence.
So…okay then. Here we are. We have no answers, no direction. We just are.
I feel like I am in the middle of no where, without the slightest idea which direction to head. If I did head in a direction, I have no idea why I would be heading in that direction. So I sit here and take in the scenery and wait for a voice in the sky to tell me something, anything.
Be still and know that I am God.
When you do not know where to go or even which direction to turn, stillness is somewhat inevitable. I literally do not feel like I can move. Stillness is my only option.
If stillness is not the problem, then it must be the second part of the verse: Know that I am God.
God, I know that I am not you. I know that you are God. I know that your ways are better than mine. I know that you see so much clearer than I.
Know that I am God.
I guess I do not know you all that well. I worry about our relationship because I do not hear a word from you. The silence is tough, but why? It is not as if you were like a human friendship and you just decided you did not want to be friends anymore. You are committed. I have to believe that. Then why the silence?
Know that I am God.
Clearly I am missing something, but I think I am on to something at the same time. When God is silent, it is really tough to want to be around him. It’s kinda awkward – for me – not for Him. It feels like talking to a wall or talking to myself. I am not sure which one is worse. Sometimes, though, I think words can get in the way. I am a words person. I like to try to communicate. I think words have power. But I do not think I would have a single word to say to God if I stood before him today face to face. Not a single word would carry enough worth to be uttered in his presence.
Maybe I am on to something…
Here I sit…a smile threatening to lift the corners of my mouth. Why? No idea. But it is good to be in His presence. Nothing else matters in his presence. Looks like I need a little “nothing-else-matters” time…