This post has been mulling around in my head for weeks. I feel as if the writing on this blog has been full of fluff and low on substance, lacking the meaty content that comes in waves depending on the season of life I’m in. Truth be told, seasons of shallow writing usually mean one of two things for me: things are going really, really well or things are going very poorly. Though this time, it’s a little bit of both.
Life is sweet right now. Ainsley is growing and changing rapidly and becoming so FUN to be around. She has a spunky little personality that keeps us laughing and smiling on repeat. And work is fulfilling for Joe. And I’m loving my new flexible work schedule that allows me to spend more time at home while still doing things that inspire me.
Life is sad right now. Because we miscarried for a third time last month, our second month trying for a second child. Because I hoped that this time around things would be different, easier and that I wouldn’t have to dig up all those old emotions and fears that I packed up and put on a shelf after Ainsley was born.
I didn’t share sooner because, as anyone who has walked a road of infertility and miscarriage can tell you that when you share about your fertility struggles the worst thing that someone can do is look at you with that look. The look, full of pity, that says, “I’m sorry you don’t have what I have.”
But I love you all. Some of you I know personally, others I know via e-mail and social media. Your prayers lifted us countless times over the years and I’ve been humbled by the kindness of strangers more times that I can count. In the year and a half since Ainsley’s birth I can’t tell you the number of strangers I’ve met who have told me that they’ve prayed for my daughter. It floors me every single time.
So, because you share in our joy, I’m sharing with you our sadness, too. Because I know that this blog is made up of readers who are my tribe of women. Women who have walked the difficult, weary road that only the fertility-challenged can understand. Women who have cared about our fertility struggles even if they haven’t experienced them personally.
To my fellow mommas and mommas-to-be who are trying to grow you family:
You are the bravest group of women I know. Every time you smile in the face of adversity or deliver a baby meal for a friend’s new baby or take a shot or pill or five thousand crazy vitamins and supplements, you’re brave. And when you choose JOY for others instead of bitterness, jealousy or envy, you’re doing kingdom work that is glorifying God.
I don’t know if our journey to our next (God willing) baby will be long or short, but I do know that I’ll need your support, and my desire is to provide support and encouragement for those walking this road with me. Longing for another baby while being deeply thankful for the amazing gift of the child that we do have.
Thank you for making this space such a supportive and safe space for me to share about our family. I’m so thankful for each and every one of you who read the words that I write.