Life | {Gods plan}

Today I have decided to break the silence over here on the blog. In recent months I have had a hard time sitting down to write, due to my fear of what might come out. Part of me wants so desperately to let the flood gates of my heart open, and drowned the pages of my blog with the intricate thoughts that have been weaving a web inside my mind. Yet, to open that area of my heart would mean I would have to strip off the bandaid I’ve been wearing. The bandaid that protects the painful places that I’ve been trying to keep covered. And so today, I will allow myself to bleed, because as Maya Angelou once said:

“there is no greater agony then bearing an untold story inside of you.”

Two days ago I dialed the number of a doctor. A doctor that is referred to as a “specialist” by the physician who gave my husband and I the number. A number that has been looming on the outside of our denial, our frustration, our stubbornness. A number we said we weren’t going to call. Here come the tears. The floodgate is creeping open. When the scheduler answered the phone, I bravely explained why I was calling, and who told me to call, and then out of her mouth came the words I have been avoiding “is this for infertility?” As much as I wanted to yell NO, no this isn’t for infertility, and tell her that the doctor is wrong, that I called the wrong number, that next month I’m going to take another pregnancy test like I have every month for the past 15 months, and this time it’s going to give me two lines, because this isn’t supposed to happen. Not being able to have a child with my husband was not supposed to happen. Infertility was not supposed to happen. But it did happen. It is happening.

When Cody and I decided to start trying we never thought it would be a possibility that we wouldn’t get pregnant. We had it planned out how we were going to tell the family (at Thanksgiving, then at Christmas, then at Easter, then on Mother’s Day). We have a drawer full of tiny baseball and John Deere onesies waiting to be used. We have sippy cups in our pantry still unopened. We walked giggly through baby aisles in stores, and have a list of names ready and waiting. Every month my husband would point out my “weird symptoms” and we’d think this was the month. We just knew, it would happen. And then it didn’t. Month after month, test after test, the answer to the question; “is this for infertility?” became a painful truth. A painful truth that I am so desperately trying to accept graciously, and courageously.

And so despite the hard days, the many tears, the frustrations, the envy when I see yet another pregnancy announcement that isn’t mine, the unanswered questions, I’m still hopeful that our family will grow. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I know a God who does. A God who is good, and faithful, who has a plan and a purpose that far surpasses anything I could ever hope or dream.

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This may not have been part of my plan, but the Lord’s purpose is, so with tears in my eyes I will be {thankful} Thankful for God’s purpose and plan even if it’s different than mine, thankful for the amazing daughter I already have, for the husband who is a better father than I could have ever dreamed for her, and thankful for the friends and family who are walking with me through the good and the hard times of this life! It is because of these BLESSINGS I am able to say “yes this is infertility,” without fear of what is up ahead.

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