There has been so much happy pregnancy-and-adoption-related news on the blogs lately. It is to be expected in a world of women posting about TTC and their struggles and their hopes and prayers.
And then Jenny had this to say about why she's been so quiet (I'd been wondering what was going on :)!). And, I think, her honesty and her vulnerability reminds us all why we love this community so much. It is the ONE place we can come and be ourselves. Share how we really feel and receive encouragement and prayers.
But, Jenny is also right. For so many of us (and frankly for so many of you who have been waiting so much longer than me), these posts about babies and pregnancy can hurt. I also agree that very often I look forward to reading about those who have crossed over and their journeys. It is a great source of hope many days. I love reading joy in places where there was hurt and sorrow, it is proof of the resurrection; proof that the cross is not the end.
Other times though, it is just too much. For me, this week, it was all too much. CD1 arrived, a first grandbaby was born to the person in the cube beside me, I gave an interview (general, not personal, but still) about Infertility Awareness Week, lots of baby-joy in blogland, and I realized that no, I will still not be pregnant when I turn 33 in a couple of weeks. It has been one of those weeks where all of the things I want seemed to be so much greater and louder than all of the things I have.
And on Jenny's post, TCIE said it all so beautifully (much better than I could ever dream of), but this part was what said most closely to what I was thinking at the time: "when they know they cannot handle more, they will make the choice not to read." Yes! That is exactly what I do. When I know that I'm at my breaking point, when I can't read or hear one more word about babies or pregnancy or children, I choose not to read. I star the post in my reader and I come back to it, because I know that given a few days, a glass of wine, and some more balanced hormones I will want to read about the joy. I will want to have my hope restored. Most importantly, I will want to celebrate with you; to pray with you; and to remain connected.
So friends, you who have passed over, who are sharing about your journeys, please keep writing. Yes, some days it will be too painful to read, but other days it is the best medicine there is. Please understand that if I don't comment for a few days it has everything to do with me and nothing to do with you. If I've learned nothing else on this road, it is that what I feel today will most likely change within a week; that the emotions I can't fathom ever having again (be it joy or sorrow) will come back and the cycle will continue. I need your stories of hope, of joy, of success to encourage me just as badly as I need the stories of sadness, frustration, and fear to let me know I'm not alone.