The waiting was hard. The uncertainty was maddening.
Three years trickled by, peppered abundantly by nearly countless joyful pregnancy announcements from family, friends, and acquaintances. I patiently watched their bellies swell with tiny lives, and watched as those tiny lives grew into rambunctious toddlers with minds and personalities all their own. I constantly struggled against my own pervasive feelings of stagnancy, monotony, and envy; for this is the ugly reality of the human response to infertility.
I knew in my head that I was genuinely happy for the super-fertiles surrounding me, and I was capable of expressing that happiness most of the time. But so often my heart just wanted to sink into the undercurrent of depression and hang out there for a while. Some days were fine; I could babysit, attend baby showers, and knit baby hats for dear friends... all with genuine joy in my heart. But other days, triggers sat on the surface of my skin, drawing out my suppressed self-pity and envy demons at a moment's notice. At times I didn't recognize this unhappy person taking up residence inside of me, in place of the sweet baby for which I yearned.
But what I had a hard time seeing was how my heart was being stretched and molded by a God who loves me infinitely more than I am capable of loving this child now within me. I was forced to come to grips with the reality that He is the only one who can offer me true fulfillment and all-encompassing joy. I relied on His promise to work all things for good in my life, because I am His beloved child. I eventually found moments of peace when I focused on the fact that He was carrying us through this experience for a purpose.
One of the books I read referred to infertility as a gift, to which I whole-heartedly agree. When I consider the person I was three and a half years ago, I am truly thankful that God said "not yet". I have been given enormous gifts of spiritual maturity, patience, and faith. I have also shed a tremendous amount of self-reliance and pride. Through all of this, my husband and I have grown exponentially closer as we've individually drawn closer to God. We have been given the gift of learning what it requires to let go of expectations, intense desire, and control.
What I am left with is praise and gratitude for God's provision in my life. I am acutely aware that He has a purpose for this tiny life that he has so deliberately created, and that He is entrusting me to guide my son's heart as he lives out that purpose.
What greater certainty could I have been given?
Three years trickled by, peppered abundantly by nearly countless joyful pregnancy announcements from family, friends, and acquaintances. I patiently watched their bellies swell with tiny lives, and watched as those tiny lives grew into rambunctious toddlers with minds and personalities all their own. I constantly struggled against my own pervasive feelings of stagnancy, monotony, and envy; for this is the ugly reality of the human response to infertility.
I knew in my head that I was genuinely happy for the super-fertiles surrounding me, and I was capable of expressing that happiness most of the time. But so often my heart just wanted to sink into the undercurrent of depression and hang out there for a while. Some days were fine; I could babysit, attend baby showers, and knit baby hats for dear friends... all with genuine joy in my heart. But other days, triggers sat on the surface of my skin, drawing out my suppressed self-pity and envy demons at a moment's notice. At times I didn't recognize this unhappy person taking up residence inside of me, in place of the sweet baby for which I yearned.
But what I had a hard time seeing was how my heart was being stretched and molded by a God who loves me infinitely more than I am capable of loving this child now within me. I was forced to come to grips with the reality that He is the only one who can offer me true fulfillment and all-encompassing joy. I relied on His promise to work all things for good in my life, because I am His beloved child. I eventually found moments of peace when I focused on the fact that He was carrying us through this experience for a purpose.
One of the books I read referred to infertility as a gift, to which I whole-heartedly agree. When I consider the person I was three and a half years ago, I am truly thankful that God said "not yet". I have been given enormous gifts of spiritual maturity, patience, and faith. I have also shed a tremendous amount of self-reliance and pride. Through all of this, my husband and I have grown exponentially closer as we've individually drawn closer to God. We have been given the gift of learning what it requires to let go of expectations, intense desire, and control.
What I am left with is praise and gratitude for God's provision in my life. I am acutely aware that He has a purpose for this tiny life that he has so deliberately created, and that He is entrusting me to guide my son's heart as he lives out that purpose.
What greater certainty could I have been given?
I think the same exact thing can be said when you are single and the wedding blitz is going on all around you, at least from what I experienced. From the singleness to childless, the wound runs deep while waiting.
ReplyDeleteWhat a beautiful article. Keep on writing Rebekah! You have this gift as well.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful
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