A Journal Entry

I was in a grad progeam for counseling. As part of this program we had to continually work on ourselvs and our own junk. I actually loved it and chose the area od accepting my infertility as my area of personal work. We met in groups to discuss our growth and process. I read this journal entry for my group a while ago. Seemed fitting to share it here...
"Sorrow and Joy"
Sorrow was beautiful, but her beauty was the beauty of the moonlight shining through the leafy branches of the trees in the wood and making little pools of silver here and there in the soft green moss below.
when Sorrow sang, her notes were like the low sweet call of the nightingale, and in her eyes was the unexpectant gae o one who has ceased to look for coming gladness. she coupld weep in tender symphany with those who weep, but to rejoice with those who rejoice was unknown to her.

Joy was beautiful too, but his was the radiant beauty of the summer morning. his eyes still held the glad laughter of childhood, and his hair had the glint of the sunshine's kiss. when Joy sang, his voice soared upward as the larks, and his step was the step of a conqueror who has never known defeat. he could rejoice with all who rejoice, but to weep with those who weep was unknown to him.
"but we can never be united," said Sorrow wistfully.
"no, never." and Joy's eyes shadowed as he spoke. "My path lies through the sunlit meadows, the sweetest roses bloom for my gathering, and the blackbirds and thrushes await my coming to pour forth their most joyous lays."
"my path," said Sorrow, turning slowly away, "leads through the darkening woods; with moonflowers only shall my hands be filled. yet the sweetest of all earth songs -- the love song of the night -- shall be mine; farewell, Joy, farewell."
even as she spoke they became conscious of a form standing beside them; dimly seen, but of a kingly Presence, and a great and holy awe stole over them as they sank on their knees before Him.
"i see Him as the King of Joy," whispered Sorrow, "for on His head are many crowns, and the nailprints in His hands and feet are the scars of a great victory. before Him all my sorrow is melting away into deathless love and gladness, and i give myself to Him forever."
"nay, Sorrow," said Joy softly, "but i see Him as the King of Sorrow, and the crown on His head is a crown of thorns, and the nailprints in His hands and feet are the scars of great agony. i, too, give myself to Him forever, for sorrow with Him must be sweeter than any joy i have known."
"then we are one in Him," they cried in gladness, "for none but He could unite Joy and Sorrow."
hand in hand they passed out into the world to follow Him through storm and sunshine, in the bleakness of winter cold and the warmth of summer gladness, as sorrowful yet always rejoicing." (exerpt from I Will Carry You by Angie Smith)
this development plan is not about finding treatment to get pregnant but about finding a way to live not pregnant. how do i cope with this in a completely genuine, authentic way so as not to ignore it or cover it up, yet in a way that is healthy? how do i leave it yet always carry it with me? because the truth is it will always be with me. infertility is my cross to bear and has been burned in my soul. for better or for worse.

there is great shame and isolation in this struggle. a good friend asked a question that hit me to the core: "what does infertility say about your identity?" infertility says to me: broken, failure, disappointed, alone, bad mom. and i think, "what is wrong with me? this is supposed to be the most natural thing...and i cant do it." and in the christian community i almost feel like an abomination -- a woman who will not fulfill her christian duty to bear children. how dare she! and i feel broken.

sometime its hard to talk to people, even friends. i am the constant reminder that life is not fair and things do fall apart; that hope, dreams, expectations are not always enough. sometimes people don't want to listen because they bank on the way the world is supposed to work -- love, marriage, baby carriage. they look at me, listen to me and i am a reminder that their cushy, bubble dream of a life might. just.   pop.

this complicated process of grief and loss is made even more complicated when hope is added into the mix. hoping for a miracle yet always being disappointed. a lot of people dont realize how hurtful hope can be. it's a fluffy, pretty word that stabs sharply.

hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the song, without words, and never stops at all. -- emily dickinson.
hope is the worst of all evils, for it prolongs the torment of man. -- nietzsche

there is a death each month for the barren that never gets a card, a flower, a funeral, a casket, a condolence, a day to remember. it never gets a thing but the tears of those who must once again say goodbye to the dreams of a child, a life. the birthdays, the tickling, christmas mornings, laughing, smiles, first teeth, first day home from the hospital...first person who knows a baby is on the way...

my life will never be as it was supposed to be, or what i thought it was supposed to be. and there's not a damn thing i can do about it. because no matter how much money ot how many procedures or how much time or energy i put into getting my baby, God is the one who creates life and HE chooses when to do so. he decides and he has control. because the truth is: at any moment he could create a life within me, he has done it before. think about all the people who have used every form of birthcontrol and still  get pregnant.

but even so, in spite of the pain, hurt, tears, sorrow...there is joy.
because what if this infertility thing is, dare i say, a gift?
how can something so painful, so tormenting, so un-asked-for be a gift? i didn't want this. i never asked for this. i'm not happy about it. can't i just give it back?

it makes me think of my Jesus and the gift he was to me. in the garden he was scared, probably even angry, overwhelmed, stressed out, and fearful because he knew what this meant. he knew how it would hurt. he did it still, and it was God's plan for him.

so here i am. with this gift. Gift? am i really going there? i dont want to make it out as a nice happy smiley thing. it still hurts and still sucks. so this gift is mine to have, to bear. for whatever reason. it is my cross.
i'm on a journey too. and there's stops along the way. i can easily get off and stay at a stop, even in this moment. there's adoption, foster care, fertility treatment, giving up...but i know that this, being in this program doing what i am doing right now, is God's plan for me at this moment. so i have to keep going. no stops. and it hurts every time i pass up an opportunity for a different path, a different life. it hurts and i know what its costing me. whatever is down this road is far more amazing that what i could plan for myself. and i know that whatever lies ahead will eventually turn my mourning into dancing, my crying into laughter, my sorrow into joy, and my pain into peace.

i choose my cross each day. i must choose. God never leaves us without options. it is our responsibility to choose. this can be difficult because many times either option can be good, right, fulfilling, and pleasing to God. its sometimes more about instant gratification vs. waiting, than wrong vs. right.

infertility sucks but the way my eyes have opened up is amazing. i've learned so much in these past few years that i wouldn't have learned or even considered had infertility had not been there. inferility has allowed me to experience pain, loss, grief, and sorrow so i can help others who feel it too. it has also allowed me to really appreciate and experience more fully -- peace, reast, love, rejoicing, gratitude...and to appreciate the little things that keep me sane.

God has something surprising down the road for me. it still hurts. it's like part of me is letting go of my dream of children as i write this because maybe that's not what God has planned down the road for me? it's scary because i don't know what he has in mind. but it's not like my hopes, dreams, and wants were really in my mands to begin with. nothing is guaranteed! not even just because it's the way the world is supposed to work.

it's not up to us anyway. it's all about him. we have no control sometimes. we can feel like we do -- with all the charting, temperatures, procedures, tests, scans -- but tomorrow everything can change. everything can fall apart in a single breathe, in one doctor's sigh. we may never know why and never get it all back.

if i really choose to see this through, this burden, this issue, struggle, this cross...this gift (?)...
if i really chose to follow this road all the way down i really may not get my child until this part is done, until i reach that surprising place God has for me.

so, in a way, by choosing this path each day i am also choosing to give up my baby, right now...for this day. i must accept and bear the fact that i might never have children.but i know i'm not on this road alone. i'll take this burden and allow it to be made into a gift -- everyday.

"our glory is hidden in our pain, if we allow God to bring the gift of himself in our experience of it. if we turn to God, not rebelling against our hurt, we let God transform it with greater good. we let other join in and discover it with us"

"if mourning and dancing are part of the same movement of grace, we can be grateful for every moment we have lived. we can claim our unique journey as God's way to mold our hearts to greater conformity to Christ. the cross invites us to see grace where there is pain; to see resurrection where there is death. the call to be grateful is a call to trust that every moment canbe claimed as the way of the cross that leads to new life."
 -- Henri Nouwen

"because sorrow with him must be sweeter than any joy i have known."