Wondering what the heck we've been up to since May?? I am sorely behind in updating, and for that I apologize to those who have been hanging on the edge of their seats.
We decided to take some time off of treatment after our second round because of a family vacation in May that would have interfered with timing. Truth be told, I was relieved to have a little "forced" time off. I was tired of taking daily medication and feeling a little out of sorts about our whole situation, and I just needed some time to let go and sort of regroup. So one month off turned into two, because I still didn't feel ready to jump back in. But here we are, getting ready to have our third IUI in the morning, and we're back in the game.
I am concurrently eager and ambivalent; hopeful and pessimistic; thankful and annoyed. I still have a really hard time understanding why it must be so difficult for us to fulfill the most natural of human desires - the thing which God purposed within us - to be fruitful and multiply. Humanity is fallen, and this is just one speck in an endless ocean of consequences. Infertility is simultaneously devastating and insignificant, depending on the angle from which it is considered. Maybe this is why I struggle to settle on my feelings about the whole thing.
I also know there are some (because I used to be one of them) who are in the midst of their own fertility struggles, and who just can't relate to our situation because we have already been blessed with one child. I'm not even going to pretend that my emotions are as raw this time around. Secondary infertility, to me, is a numbed version of the pain felt by those who have no children in their arms. This is partially due to the immense amount of healing that God has provided in the form of a beautiful boy, and to the fact that I no longer have the mental real estate to encompass such large emotions. As cliche as it sounds, chasing a toddler and running a household significantly cuts back on the time and energy I have to look inward. This, I suppose, is a blessing and a curse.
To those who's pain is so much greater right now: I get you. I really do. I've seen the depths of your sadness and the madness of uncertainty. We are climbing a mountain along different paths, but you are not alone in your journey, nor have I forgotten where I once was. There are many who don't understand, but I do; so I hope we can find solace in our kinship, even if we never speak of it in person.
The thing that really aches the most is knowing what I'll be missing out on if I'm not able to get pregnant again. Bringing a child into the world is the biggest privilege I've ever been given. It was marvelous, empowering, humbling, fulfilling, and brought me closer to God than ever before. Caleb is the literal embodiment of God's love and provision in my life. My heart swells when I think of how deeply I love that child. And, just like that, I am reminded that this is a mere fraction of how deeply God loves us, His children.
I continue to rest in the knowledge that He has not forgotten me. His timing is so much better for me than the timing I would set for myself. His plans are so much bigger than my desires, and yet he bends to listen to my heart. I gently ask, again and again, knowing that whatever answer He gives is the one I need the most.
In a way...I can relate to this with a different struggle. Back when it seemed like everyone under the sun was getting engaged and married in our small church groups....and the envy I held in my heart...wanting it to be me. Something that was not in my control and yet in God's timing to be done in His way.
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