We've been TTC for five years now. That "anniversary" was earlier this summer. My first thought is that IF still hurts. Maybe you're thinking, "Well, duh." The tears still catch me off guard from time to time. Almost anything that reminds me of the joy of children and our lack thereof has the potential to trigger the waterworks and re-open the deep pain of longing and grief. Even though the emotional pain hasn't gone away, I dwell on it less often than the earlier days of IF, so in that way it's not as all-encompassing as it used to be. The number of days in a month that I shed tears related to IF is significantly decreased from previous years. Whether this is a natural progression over time or not, there has been a lot of God's grace bringing me to this point because the "please-God-give-me-babies" crying tantrums were much more frequent in the past, and yet the desire for children is still as strong as ever. Now it's tempered with an outlook that I am not in control, I don't get to know ahead of time when/if our family will grow, and it's possible it may be a long time before it happens. And many days out of the month, I find there's peace knowing that's a possibility. If God can bring me to some level of peace—me, the girl who added a prayer intention during her wedding Mass specifically asking God to bless her marriage with children because there weren't enough other places in the Mass where that same prayer was offered and surely God would listen to the prayers of everyone in attendance—God can bring anyone to that same peace. :) (I distinctly remember my thought process in adding that intention. It's as if I subconsciously knew we would face infertility, but I needed to feel in control that my dreams of children would come true.)I still do have this fear of long-term childlessness, and I can't quite put my finger on why it bothers me from time to time (it comes and goes like the tears). Maybe it's the fear that I'm going to spend many more years in a state of grief? When the waves of grief come, the emotional pain can be intense. But like I said above, those feelings happen less often these days. Maybe I still can't let go of the desire for children. Complete abandonment to God's will is really hard, especially when your dreams are involved. I know I need to trust God that if He's asking us to live a childless life for a while longer or indefinitely, that it will be okay. Maybe it's a good thing I don't know today how long we'll be childless—that could send me into despair quickly. If I know God's in charge of my future, I'll just work on getting through today. :)
Today's Gospel was quite fitting: the story of Peter getting out of the boat and walking on the water to Jesus (Matthew 14:22-33). Peter takes his eyes off Jesus for a second to look at the storm around him and fear sets in. The same thing happens to me. I take my eyes off Jesus to look around at all the happy families having babies and wish I could have that too. Then I become sad (or any number of negative emotions) and start to whine to God about my life. One look at a crucifix is usually enough to realign my gaze (and my emotions), but it's almost as if I can hear God saying to me (as Jesus did to Peter), "Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?"
I've been wondering this lately: do I have to never get what I want? (i.e. children) Is that what it is going to take for me to really trust God? It reminds me of the story from Exodus of the Israelites in the desert after they had been freed from slavery in Egypt (Exodus 16-17). Even though they should have been grateful to God for their freedom, they grumbled and complained. God sent them manna and told them only to collect enough for one day. He was testing them to see if they would trust Him that He was faithful and would give them more manna the next day. They found other things to complain about, like being thirsty. God gave them water. They stayed in the desert for forty years, and God provided them manna for every day. Is it going to take forty years for me to learn to trust God that life will be okay if my dream of children goes unfulfilled? On the flip side, if He does bless us with children, will I rely on Him as much as I do now, because I have no other choice than to cling to Him in my suffering?
Even though we've been TTC for five years and during that time there have been plenty of people around us get pregnant, I still struggle with how I react to their news. I mean, I'm better than I used to be, but there's still room to grow. Sometimes when others announce a pregnancy or give birth, I feel joy for them. I have managed (with plenty of grace of course) 100% joy/0% jealousy for some formerly IF ladies. Sometimes I still struggle with jealousy and even envy and not just with my fertile acquaintances. What kind of horrible person is ever envious, even a little bit, of an IFer getting pregnant? I don't blame you if you want to run far away from this blog and never come back. Sometimes the bitterness that has come with IF and tends to linger under the surface just brings me to tears because I hate that I feel that way. I don't remember feeling bitterness in my pre-IF days.
Usually there's a protective layer around my heart. The thickness of that layer changes along with my hormone levels. It's much thicker during the "fertile" time (so far I'm only fertile on paper) and most of the post-peak phase. It gets rather thin a few days before AF arrives and remains that way until AF has stayed for a couple days.
There are of course exceptions to this pattern. I've had pregnancy announcements from fertile friends on CD1 that don't make me cry. And sometimes the tears will come when I thought I was feeling pretty emotionally stable. Take a Sunday from last cycle, for example. It was mid-post-peak so I should have been fine. But I was not fine. I cried on and off during Mass as if it were CD1. Maybe knowing we've been TTC for five years was the reason. The music director played an instrumental version of a very fitting song too—I sort of think of it as my IF theme song. I've posted it here before.
"Be Still My Soul" - Jean Sibelius
Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,
And all is darkened in the vale of tears.
Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,
Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.
Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay
From His own fullness all He takes away.
Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past.
Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;
All now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and wind still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord,
When disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.
Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
(this version has verses 1, 3, and 4)
(this version by a boys' choir has verses 1, 2, and 4)
