But in the meantime, he isn't really the priority right now...
I thought I was being tough.
Convincing myself that the gut feeling I’ve had the last few days didn’t matter.
That the sinking sadness in my stomach was no big deal.
That this morning’s negative meant nothing.
I had put on my stiff upper lip, and thought I was exhibiting that strength I so pride myself on.
And then; I lost it.
(Courtesy of Google Images)
I was taking a shower. Getting ready for church. Thinking mostly about next week, and all the looks of pity I’m going to have to face from everyone.
The kid gloves and “I’m sorrys.”
Being surrounded by people who couldn’t possibly get it.
I was thinking about how hard it's going to be to face next week if this doesn’t work, and before I knew it; I was crumpled on the ground of my shower sobbing. The deep, consuming cries. The kind where it’s hard to catch your breath.
The ones that literally cause your chest to ache.
And I realized; I’m not as tough as I’d like to think I am.
And if this round doesn’t work; it is going to break me down further than I have ever been broken.
I dragged myself out of the shower and forced myself to go to church. Reasoning that if there was anywhere I belonged right now; it was there.
But even as I entered the doors, I was holding back tears.
Already mourning a failed cycle, only days into it.
You wouldn’t believe what I walked in to though.
A prayer. A simple prayer.
A prayer that was clearly meant for me.
The pastor had his head lowered as he spoke these words:
“God, there are people in our midst today who are giving up. People who are in need of a miracle. In need of your redemption. Of your healing. People who are facing battles greater than they ever thought they were capable of, and who feel as though they are losing those battles. People who don't think there is anyone who understands. So please God, for those people, for the ones who have lost hope and have no idea where to turn from here; please be their strength God. Remind them that even if no one else seems to understand; you do. That even if they have lost hope; you still have it for them. Be their strength God.”
The tears were streaming down my face before he had even finished speaking. I sat in my chair and just let them run. Didn’t even bother to wipe them away. Knowing that God was giving me a message today that I needed to hear.
And then I looked around and realized; I wasn’t the only one crying.
We are all struggling. All fighting battles we aren’t sure we can win. All up against a wall and losing hope.
But God is there. Waiting to be our strength. Waiting to guide us from glory to glory, even if that means trudging through the valleys first.
And it was in that realization that warmth washed over me. That I remembered how ahead of myself I was getting.
I wasn’t giving God enough credit. Or enough time.
Suddenly, I could breathe again. The tears dried up, and I felt my strength return. Renewed.
Then it happened. At some point during that service; I felt a pinch in the lower right side of my stomach. Normally I would attribute that to ovary pain, but this didn’t feel low enough to be my ovary. And it lasted for a good few seconds. Long enough that I had no choice but to acknowledge this pinching sensation coming from my insides.
Long enough to hope and pray that it was what I think it was – a little one settling in for the long haul.
When the service ended, I did something I’ve never done before. Something I never thought I would do.
I walked to the front of the church, and I asked the prayer team for prayers. I briefly told them pieces of my story.
Obviously a little too briefly, because they incorrectly inferred I had a husband and all their prayers were peppered with hopes for both me and him. I didn’t have the heart to correct any of them. Certainly not while they were in the middle of prayers.
But pray they did. Laying their hands on my stomach, asking God to open my womb, and to grant me the gift of raising one of His children. They prayed for my strength. For my health. For my healing.
And for my ability to be a mommy.
And I cried. Silently again. The tears washing over my face.
But when it was over – I felt better. Stronger. Proud of myself for asking for help in a way that was so far out of my comfort zone.
God is my strength. God will always be my strength. And no matter what happens here, I cannot take this all on myself. I cannot carry this burden alone.
And so I’m going to do something here I’ve never done before either. I’m going to ask all of you to pray too. For me. For those two ice babies inside of me. For the life and future I ache to have.
And for the strength to make it through; no matter what I find out as this week progresses.
I think depriving myself of hope was the wrong idea too. I was trying to protect myself. Trying to save myself the hurt of another failed cycle.
But it’s not me.
And so, I am going to let myself hope. I am going to let myself believe in that pinch I felt today. Starting tomorrow, I am going to have faith when I pee on those sticks. I am going to lay my hands on my stomach and speak to those ice babies of mine. I am going to open my heart up to them, and let myself love them. Even before I know if they are real or not.
Knowing that the more I let myself hope, the more I could be setting myself up for hurt.
But that God will be my strength.
I am going to trust in God to be my strength, because clearly I don’t have it in me to do alone.
Clearly I’m not strong enough on my own.
God is my strength.
And we've got this.
