Cherish This

So at the point when I made my last post about my health I was in a bit of shock. I was angry. And I was incredibly frustrated. For a little while after that I stayed in my little well, my little bubble. I didn’t want to hear words of encouragement or hope. I didn’t want to be comforted. I wanted to scream, to weep. I needed to let it out. I needed someone to tell me how much this was going to suck. I needed someone to tell me that it was unfair, that it didn’t make sense. I needed someone to let me cry, to let me be angry, to let me scream and question why! Because if they didn’t just let me feel, it wasn’t real. If I didn’t let myself spiral down, if even for a moment, then all of this was a joke, a nightmare, a misunderstanding. I was fine. I was overreacting.

I needed someone to tell me that the decision to have a baby had better be a deep deep necessity within my soul, because I was more than likely going to be in for a fight.

And it is, this decision. I need this. The decision wasn’t even a decision I can consciously remember making. I didn’t want children growing up. I found them annoying and needy, to be honest. But my husband…my husband is so good. He is a good good man, and I looked at him one day while he was surrounded by children and I knew there was something missing. This man I am completely in love with, who I thought was all I would ever need in life, wasn’t it. He wasn’t all I had to have. I needed the day that I looked out my kitchen window and saw him playing in the yard with our child. I needed the day when he walks through the front door and the sound of tiny, determined, excited little feet running towards the door and the subsequent roar of “DADDY!!” I needed to see the pride in his eyes as he watches our child learn and grow up.

I didn’t make a decision to have children. It’s a necessity rooted deep in my soul. I need to see that look in his eyes when he holds our child for the very first time.

So! Since my last post not much has been answered. More questions have come up. More diagnosis. More bills. And I have my moments, my days. I break down. I cry. A lot. I hurt physically and emotionally. There are times when I don’t want to hear about someone having a good day. There are times when all I can do is look at my husband and cry, apologizing over and over that I can’t give him the child he so badly wants, and thanking him for his unwavering patience. There are many many times, especially working in a pediatric office and a county where abuse rates are through the roof, that it gets really…really hard.

But I’m excited!!

At some point, all of this will have been worth it. And in the meantime I get to sit and think about all of the things I want to teach our little one. I want to teach her how to love herself, how to be enough for herself so that she will not seek approval from another. I want to teach her how to question everything, how to see beauty in all things. I want to teach him how to be respectful, how to love himself so that he will love others, how to bring laughter to a world that would rather give up. I want to teach them to seek, and wait patiently. I want to teach them to find adventures and imagine new heights. I want to teach them to be chaos and magic and starlight and darkness and all of the things their bold hearts want them to be.

I want to teach them to live

And I’m excited to sit back and wait for that moment. It’s hard. I’m not a patient person. And what’s funny is I’ve always joked about people asking God to give them patience. I don’t ask for that. Those are often the hardest lessons dealt. But it seems that, being who He is, God knew I needed the lesson regardless. So here I am.

And that’s another beautiful thing about this process. With each day and each storm, I’m finding myself closer and closer with not only my husband, but with God. There is a love and a peace that only He can provide. A quiet sense within my soul. I find rest in Him. On the days that I feel like staying curled up in a ball in bed, when I don’t want to be around anyone or I just feel broken, He is my hope. He is my strength. He is teaching me to be a better wife, a better woman. I am in awe at the thought that as much as I love my husband, as much as I love my unborn child, He loves me an unfathomable amount more than that. Me. He chose me. And I pray that that sense of hope and love radiates through me so that others, so that you all, can see Him for what He is. He is being home. He is curling up in your father’s lap for comfort and rest. He is the strong embrace that holds you together when all you want to do is crumble to the floor. He is that voice that says you can, and the reassurance that even if you can’t He can. He moves mountains and builds galaxies. He knows the name of each star I lay down and marvel at each night. He may not give me all the answers because He is no magic 8 ball. He is acceptance like no other, and a love beyond all measure. For every human being, no matter their walk of life. Without His peace and strength, I would have given up on all of this, including the hope that my heart will still be beating tomorrow, a long time ago.

For those of you reading this because of the PCOS tag, or the endo or ttc tag, there is hope. You can keep fighting. You can win. And you can also have your moments, your doubts, your breakdowns. Don’t let that make you feel weak. Ask questions! Scream about it! Because you’re a human being, not a robot. And that kind of emotion tends to remind you of the raw passion for the reason you’re going through any of this in the first place.

Keep fighting. I’ll be fighting right alongside you.

In the meantime, make lists. Start writing to your baby girl or boy. Cherish this process.

Stay strong, beautiful fighter ❤ XOXO

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One Comment Add yours

  1. Lena says:

    please check out my latest story on pcos.. I hope it helps. I have it.

    Like

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