Maybe it's the hormones, maybe its because today is the first moment I have had a chance to stop and reflect on the process, but the emotions have hit... and they have hit hard.
Am I excited... no!
Am I scared... like you wouldn't believe.
I don't want to do this again. I don't want to hear yet another no. I am so afraid that at the end of all this, I will have gone through it all for nothing. I don't believe its going to work (yet at times I do), and I need someone to believe for me during the times I am too weak. I need a hug. I need to be allowed not to smile. I need to be allowed to just cry without anyone hearing or seeing. I am afraid that if I announce that I don't think it will work, that I will jinx it and it won't work, because I've showed doubt. I'm afraid to post this, because people will think I'm less than who they thought I was. I'm afraid to say goodbye to yet another means of growing a family. I am afraid my life will not be the life I thought it would be. I am afraid that if I let myself cry, I won't stop. I am afraid if I admit that I don't want to do this, people will think I shouldn't. I am afraid it will work, but I will miscarry. I am afraid of a stillborn. I am afraid of a premature baby. I am afraid of child with a life threatening defect. I am afraid people will tell me not to fear because fear is not from God. I am afraid I will damage relationships, because I'm not thinking clearly. I am afraid if I let people know my fears, they will say I am a complainer. I am afraid people will know I am afraid. I am afraid...
Truth is things don't work out for me. This is mostly pessimism, but there is a lot of truth to it too. For the most part, I love where my life has lead, but things don't turn out. Even in my strongest moment, I'm well aware I'm just seconds away from my life being completely and utterly changed forever. All of ours are, really.
I don't want to hear any platitudes. I don't want to hear, "be strong," "don't worry."
I want to hear you can be weak, I will be strong for you.
I am weak. I am afraid, I am alone.
I was told once, its good to be transparent. This is me being transparent at this moment. An hour from now, I probably will be laughing and strong. I will be optimistic and excited. That is me most the time.
But right now, this is me.
After six years of infertility, she was blessed with the adoption of her oldest daughter who now is a teenager. Six years later, she finally became a mother a second time, this time with a baby through a donated egg and ivf. Throughout that time, she fostered nine babies and toddlers, met wonderful women who helped her grow, and learned to rely on Jesus. She started this blog with the hope that she could share her joy, experience, and willingness to grow with others, whether they battle infertility, toddlers, or teens.