It's really, really, really not fair.

There are, beyond the shadow of a doubt, some amazingly wonderful people and things and circumstances in my life. I give thanks for those pieces of my world as often as I can remember to, and I try to focus on them when other things just aren't going well. But today, in spite of all the good things I can list, the evil is just coming out on top.

Earlier this week, I learned that I may actually have Asherman's Syndrome, which is basically the presence of uterine scarring that is a rare but dangerous side effect of a D&C. At this point, it's hard to tell exactly how severe my scarring is and whether or not it's causing my wacky cycles and lack of ability to get pregnant again, but the fact was confirmed today: I need another surgery. This one will be a hysteroscopy, performed by my OB. It means more hospital bills, more pain, and more recovery time. At the point, I don't even know if we can get it in before I go back to teaching, which means it would also require days off from work.

All around me are pregnant bellies and infants. Women in my online support group are "graduating" to the pregnancy board; close friends just brought their newborn home yesterday; the neighbor down the street is showing. Most days, it's okay; I can manage the pain by distracting myself. Today, it's just not. The absolute and incredible lack of fairness of where we are today is drowning me. I'm suffocated by the knowledge that we started trying a year ago now, by the reminder that we should have spent our anniversary yesterday with our own little one. I'm disheartened by the frustration friends seem to have with me; I've realized that I need to stop giving them updates, but that also breaks my heart, because it makes me feel like a lost cause. I'm so incredibly broken-hearted that I cannot give my Boo a son or daughter to hold in his arms--that he has to look at photos and videos of friends doing just that, all the while knowing that the problem for him is me.

Today, I'm drowning.

My First Byline!

Through an incredibly talented writer and teacher who I have the pleasure of working with at Potomac, I was recently offered an opportunity to write my first-ever formal theatre review. Jeff and I (as former house managers and box office personnel) have certainly spent time wooing theatre critics, but we've never been the ones handed the glossy folder and led to special "reserved" seats.

Shenandoah Press is a superb local blog; whether you live in the area or not, you'll likely enjoy perusing it. But, since this post is a celebration of my newest accomplishment, here's the direct link to my review: "Untying Gideon's Knot."

There's more to come--I've been asked to write future reviews of our trip to the American Shakespeare Center in Staunton, VA, in August, and I can't wait!

Our battered, bruised four leaf clover

(A disclaimer: We're not big believers in luck or good fortune--we choose to put our faith in our heavenly Father who we know with certainty cares for us in more ways than we can fathom. But this was a unique day.)

Remember the amaryllis blooming in the darkest winter of our lives? Or the budding victory rose Jeff left on my desk? Our tiny, battered, four-leaf clover belongs to that family.

As Jeff and I sat outside the Millbrook winery, sipping a delicious Chardonnay by the pond, musing about our lives, I idly began a search for an elusive four-leaf clover. There was no reason for my hunt; I merely needed a distraction for my fingers. But, despite that, just moments into my hunt, I discovered the treasure pictured at the bottom of this post.

Our four-leaf clover isn't perfect, but it's the only one we've ever had. Our four-leaf clover is a little worse for the wear, but so are we. Our four-leaf clover offers a kind of hope that is bathed in reality, and that's the only kind of hope we know or desire anymore.

We choose to believe in and hold onto such a joyful symbol that we feel certain fell into our hands by the grace of the only One who can rain blessings on us.