I don’t cry often.
Well, that’s a lie. I cry all the time. But usually over the stupid stuff. Like Hallmark commercials. Those things should come with a disclaimer and a box of chocolates.
Perhaps it’s better to premise this with I haven’t cried regularly over the big stuff in a long time. Babies are the big stuff for me. Wanting them and not having them. Wanting them and not being able to have them. Wanting them and not having the option to have them. Wanting them and the only way to get them is through some one else. It is a cycle. One that I excused myself from for quite awhile.
It’s been a long time since the emotions over infertility slayed me. I’ve been pretty level headed about it the last couple of years, with only the occasional mishap. Today there was a mishap. I read this article that a friend posted, a letter from the fertile friend. I did okay through most of it. Reading about the guilt that women who can have babies feel over those of us who can’t. I understand most of it. A part of me gets it. I liked that she didn’t say she understood. It makes me crazy when people who have had no difficulty conceiving say they understand-because no matter how much you’d like to sympathize or empathize, you just can’t until you’ve been there. I’m not trying to sound trite. I’m just being honest. I have no idea what it’s like to live with breast cancer or pregnancy loss. I don’t understand that pain, because I haven’t lived it. Even though I will pray my heart out for you and cry with you and love on you if you have lived with those things. Or the kaleidoscope of other things that we face in our lives.
But I digress.
The article was good. I got a little misty. And then I reached the end. Then I became a hot mess.
See she references the Bible, which is chock full of women who suffered through infertility. They called out to God and begged for his mercy and a family. They waited years. And then, the desires of their hearts are granted. As it is so eloquently said in Genesis and on this little blog piece in regards to Rachelle and those four words: “And God remembered Rachelle.”
Here’s where I lost it. Right here. Because sometimes it makes me wonder then, did God forget me? Rationally I know he didn’t. In my heart of hearts I know he’s there. Always will be. That his decisions for my life are unknown and may never be explained in this life time. But sweet Jesus….to be remembered.