1 + 1 = 2 (usually)

(A forewarning, family and friends: this one is raw and hurting.)

When I was little, my parents did their best to raise me in a world that was black and white. Taking my older brother's Lego was wrong; sharing my snack with him was right. Griping to get a higher grade was wrong; admitting I'd gotten extra, unwarranted points on a test was right. Things were simple: one + one = two, and the world made some logical sense. And that was okay by me--because I usually did what was "right."

In the last nine months, though, I've been proven wrong.

See, I've done everything "right." I made sure I was eating healthy and got well back within my "optimal" weight range. I cut out caffeine, alcohol, and sushi (per my RE's instructions), once we'd finished our IUI. I prayed daily for my delight in the Lord as he would grant the desires of my heart. And I offered support and love to those pregnant and with newborns as they faced new chapters of their lives.

So, isn't that supposed to equal a baby?

I suppose that, in the way the world works, it doesn't. It equals tears and heartbreak and angst and pain. But that just doesn't seem FAIR to me--I like it when I know what I'm supposed to do, and an expected result appears. I don't understand why other women are granted their hearts' desires and I am not--over and over again. I don't want to be a role model of optimism and joy--I just want to be a mom. And it seems, well, unfair.

As it turns out, 1 + 1 doesn't always = 2. And good behavior + an honest heart's desire doesn't = a pregnancy. That still seems unfair tonight, and it still hurts. And as much as I continue to trust and know that our Father has a hope and a plan for our future, it doesn't cease my anger or heal my heart.

So, friends, that's where I am, in a very raw place tonight. I love to offer you optimism and hope, but that's in short supply at the moment. Instead, I offer you honesty and truth, and I await the Lord's guidance on where that leads me.

Spoiling All the Fun

The spring of my junior year at Davidson College, I constantly begged my parents for my mom's former car. I came up with a thousand arguments why I surely needed a vehicle in North Carolina, but none of them were convincing enough. Going into the summer, I continued my barrage and finally met with success: the Volvo and I could go to the Shakespeare Theatre of New Jersey for the summer acting apprenticeship program. Victory! However, I'll never forget what my father said to me, very quietly, the morning that he turned over the keys: "Tory, surprises are much more fun when the giver gets to joyfully surprise you." I didn't understand it at the time; I won the car, so what did the process matter? Today, though, despite not yet being a parent myself, I think I might finally understand my dad's words.

My mum sent me a note that arrived yesterday afternoon. It contained photocopies of two devotionals, one from Jesus Calling and one from Our Daily Bread. Both focused on the same set of verses from Psalm 37, and my mum was quick to remind me that Psalm 37:4 was my "birthday verse" the year I turned 25: "Take delight in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." It's a hard verse for me to trust right now, when things don't seem to be going our way for this first medicated cycle in which I'd put so much hope and promise of future joys. But the verse doesn't command me to "pray" to the Lord or to "beseech" the Lord--it simply asks me to "take delight" in Him. That's not easy, but I'm trying.

I then turned to the October 10 Jesus Calling devotional my mum sent, and I was struck by the following words:

"Trust Me enough to let things happen without striving to predict or control them.

Relax, and refresh yourself in the Light of My everlasting Love.... When you project yourself into the future, rehearsing what you will do or say, you are seeking to be self-sufficient: to be adequate without My help. This is a subtle sin--so common that it usually slips by unnoticed.

The alternative is to live fully in the present, depending on Me each moment."

I love to predict and control things, to try to find out the outcome before I'm supposed to know the ending, to project myself into the future and pre-write emails or pre-rehearse conversations. I'd never thought of those acts as sinful ones before, but they are. As I try to learn the results of this cycle before I'm supposed to, as I plan how I will share news--good or bad--with family and friends, I spoil the joy God takes in giving me a gift. When we are blessed with a family, it will be His gift to us and His alone, and it's not fair of me to try to cut corners by projecting myself into the future.

Like my earthly father, my heavenly One delights in the good gifts that He has in store for me. Just as my dad wanted nothing more than to surprise me with a car I didn't expect, I truly believe that God wants to surprise Jeff and me with the joy of a new life, in His perfect timing, in His perfect way. I have to cling to that promise, that He will give us the desires of our hearts, because the world is just too discouraging some days.

So, Lord, here's me, trying my best not to spoil all the fun. Trying to be patient, trying not to predict or control Your timing. Be patient with me; this isn't my strong suit, but I trust the joyful surprise you have in store for us.

Growth

After I got home today, I looked out our kitchen windows and noticed this bird's nest on the ground. Surprised that it hadn't already been taken hostage by our neighborhood boys and considering that Jeff would likely love to examine the nest more closely, I headed outside to pick it up and bring it onto our back deck. It was in a fragile state, so, as I tried to figure out how to cradle it gently in my hands, I noticed the tiny cracked eggshell inside and another one on the ground nearby. As carefully as I could, I put the second egg back into the nest, gingerly lifted the whole bundle, and brought it onto the deck.

A few moments later, back inside, I began to think of the poor mama bird whose chicks hadn't made it out of their shells. My thoughts drifted to the waiting period we're in right now. Was this a sign that our current cycle won't result in pregnancy? Was it going to bring me to tears as I focused on our own loss? I tentatively checked in with myself only to discover, with a substantial amount of relief and surprise, that I was just fine.

In fact, I was more than fine--I could even find joy in this potential moment of sadness. What a beautiful gift for me to discover--this delicately woven nest that I got to examine up close simply because its fall had been gentle enough to preserve both its structure and its contents.

How remarkable it is to observe the way God has grown and healed me and prepared my heart for the new life we pray will soon be in our future.