Another one
“That’s it, I really can’t do this anymore.”
This is a phrase I have found myself saying multiple times over the past 6 months as I delete all my social media apps off my phone after seeing yet another pregnancy announcement. Some days I cry, other days I’m angry, some days I’m genuinely at peace and excited for the said person on the other end of the adorable Instagram post.
A post I plan out in my head every month after counting when my due date would be if this is really the time we got it right, even though I tell myself every month I won’t get my hopes up this time.
At this precise moment, I am struggling with “unexplained infertility.” Every doctor I’ve seen (until about a month ago, when I had finally been struggling for “long enough”) says some form of “everything seems fine, you’re young, you’re healthy, come back in a few months, are you sure you’re not just stressed?”
Of course, I’m stressed. I’ve had a gut feeling something is seriously wrong with my body for over a year and no one would listen. I’ve been told I’m “reading too much into things” and “you’re over-reacting” and “plenty of people older than you have kids, calm down it’ll happen in its due time.”
Now I’m quickly approaching a procedure that is the final piece of the puzzle of my fertility, and as desperately as I want answers, I don’t know if I’ll be able to function if the answer begins with “I’m sorry, but…” Or better, but even worse at the same time, if I can keep going if I hear yet again, “everything looks normal, we don’t have answers for you.”
Because here’s the thing - I believe what I teach teenagers as a student pastor. I believe God holds all things together, I believe that He is working all things for the good of those who love Him, I believe that even our pain, our despair, our longing for things to work out the way we want, He uses as a part of His good and perfect plan. I believe that God can handle my anger, my sadness, my frustration while working behind the scenes and that His plans are good even if I never get to see those 2 pink lines.
I believe it.
Right now, I’m just tired of it.
I’m tired of wondering what the possible reasons are for Spencer and me to be walking through this. I’m tired of questioning why I’m not good enough right now to be a mom. Is it because God knows I couldn’t handle being a pastor and a mom? Am I not strong enough for that?
I don’t have a way to tie this up neatly in a bow. I might never get to tie this up neatly in a bow. But here’s what I cling to:
God is good.
His plans are good.
May He continue to give me tiny glimpses of how He is working things together for the good of ALL who love him.
Not just my community.
Not just my family.
Not just me.
ALL who love Him.