I'm writing a little sick at heart. It's a feeling I recognize. A little bit of subdued rage towards God and lot of frustration that no one (read:God) seems to understand that MY way is the better way here. It's a feeling I carried around in my heart for many long months as I realized that my dream of four or five stairstep children running around my feet, toddlers babbling to me as a breastfed the baby, three high chairs around the table, was not going to happen. Realized that God's plans for our family were very different than the ones I had cherished for us myself.
This time the dreams I see fading are ones of cousins racing around the backyard while sisters chat on the porch over iced tea or lemonade, sleepovers under the Christmas tree at Grammy's, halcyon summers full of daily visits to the pool and shared vacations to the beach, easily available babysitting (I confess), retail therapy with the only other person who appreciates a bargain the way I do, a confidant next door or down the street, shared pregnancies, filling an entire row at church, an accompanist, loving accountability and admonition a five minutes drive away, knowledgeable guidance at the Starbucks counter, watergun fights on the sidewalks full of chalk artwork.
But again, it seems that the Lord's plans for our lives are not the same as mine. And again, I will have to learn to let my "small" good give way to the (what I must trust is) greater good. And over time I know that I will begin to see the larger picture and I'll look back on this Extended Army Re-enlistment Time, as I do on our two years of Infertility, as a time of growth and good in our lives and the lives of our loved ones.
But for now, it still sucks.