You know that feeling, when you just blink your eyes and realize a month has passed? I can’t believe my last post was February 25!
I wish I had super exciting news to report, and some good excuses for why I’ve been absent and where I’ve been. But I don’t. It’s just been a different season for me lately, and although I’ve been missing writing, I’ve also been knee-deep in those things of life that have to be dealt with. Maybe you’ve been there too? Or maybe you’re much more organized than I am and know how to line up guest posts and keep things going. Ha. Someday maybe I’ll be there.
I’ve had a tough couple of days. To be honest, I’ve been kind of frustrated about our infertility lately. I feel like it should be over already. As we keep waiting for that elusive BFP, this sense that we’re actually trying yet it still hasn’t worked has dredged up a lot of feelings I thought I’d addressed and moved through.
Apparently they were just buried.
For months now I’ve been “so well-adjusted” and happy. I’ve been self-assured and confident that I’ve learned all the lessons God could possibly be teaching me through this trial. As we’ve been studying Joseph’s story and all about suffering in I Peter for my Bible studies, I’ve read along, nodding. “Oh yes,” I’ve thought, “suffering does develop good character in us. Look what it’s done for me!”
But I’m ready to be done with infertility. I’m ready to move on. When will God agree? Can’t I graduate yet?
We went to the rodeo on Saturday. The Houston Livestock show and Rodeo is seriously amazing. And that’s coming from a yankee suburban girl. I went to the rodeo for the first time two years ago. I had no idea what to expect, and I fell in love. We missed the rodeo last year, so this was only my second trip, but it didn’t disappoint.
The Houston Rodeo has an event that, to my understanding, very few other rodeos still have. It’s called mutton busting. In this extreme sport, 5 and 6 year old boys and girls who weigh between 35 and 55 pounds are plopped onto full-grown sheep. They hold on tightly as the sheep (hopefully) runs across a pen.
Sometimes they fall off after a short distance. And other times, the adults waiting at the end struggle to get the children to release the sheep. When they fall off, they almost always bounce back up and wave to the audience.
This is the highlight of the rodeo for me. I’m a little sad I wasn’t given the opportunity to ride a sheep when I was a child, and I fully intend to sign my children up for a ride one day. They may or may not have any say in the matter…
As we sat in the outdoor tent watching the mutton busing prelims, I was feeling so emotional. I kept feeling like I was holding back tears. But there wasn’t anything to cry about.
Over the next few days, I tried to process these feelings. It came as something of a surprise to me, but I realized that I was feeling really frustrated and angry about our situation. I’ve been irritated by the injustice of infertility. Some little part of me keeps welling up and crying out, “not fair!” Like a child.
Where is this coming from? I thought I’d dealt with these feelings. I’ve been matured and made better in my trial, right? I know I’ve been blessed through infertility and yet I lost the ability, for a few days, to find joy in my trial.
I don’t have a moral to the story here. Or even a good metaphor to tie the sheep in (though I kind of wish I did). This is where I’ve been lately. Processing. Evaluating. Re-processing. Re-evaluating. And praying. And asking God to give me some clarity here, and to give me some joy.
It’s easy to blog all the good lessons I’m learning, and the amazing finds in God’s word that just make my heart leap. It’s easy, on a blog, to put on a good face and seem like everything’s fine. To play this, “look at me and how I’m blossoming” card. But I guess that’s just part of the picture.
And the other part, the part that’s easier to hide, is the “this is really hard” part. The part that whines, “are we there yet?” The part that still cries out, “It’s not fair!”
I don’t like that part. But it’s a good reminder that I still have a lot to learn. And I guess I always will.
But maybe, just maybe, I don’t have to keep learning it all through infertility? We’ll see where the next month takes us, I guess.