it is easy to get lost in my “problems.”  my daily struggles are a constant, a nagging jab to the gut. and the more i focus on them, the larger they loom… isn’t that how it feels? ruminate on them long enough and what might have been a mere hangnail has now blossomed into a hemorrhaging laceration. for me, sometimes my problems threaten to swallow up my life. they are all i can feel. the pain, the hurt. the daily reminder of what i cannot have with every swollen belly that crosses my path. i think about the blood sweat and tears that have marked my path up to this point. the struggle. the highest highs and lowest of all lows. and i can easily lose perspective. i get so focused on what i don’t have, what i can’t seem to grasp, that i am oblivious to the far more important things in life.

like life itself.

one of my best friends has unknowingly given me some perspective this week, as i obsess over the brutal two week wait. someone near and dear to her heart was in a tragic car accident. by the grace of God she was inexplicably alive when she should have never left the scene of the crash. the doctors called it a miracle. not only was her life spared but she has already endured multiple surgeries to begin the repair of her badly broken body, the most recent one taking over 7 hours. and she came through strong.

talk about perspective. here i am, feeling like i’m barely treading water in my ocean of infertility. i have been oblivious to that potential tidal wave looming on the horizon, the one that can occur with no warning. the one that swallows you up in an instant and changes your world forever. i cannot begin to tell you how quickly my “problems” shrunk back to the size of that irritating hangnail.

life. breath. love.

everything else can fade away and i can be happy with those three things. let’s not get carried away people, i still have a cavernous hole in my heart for my babies. and i will continue to work hard to try to fill it. and i will still curse infertility and shake my fist at the universe at times. but infertility is not the most important thing in my life, though it easily feels that way. i cannot lose sight of the horizon.

this morning i was jarred awake to the melodious sounds of roofers incessantly pounding their hammers. dogs were barking. my son was already on track to be late for daycare. i had only slept 6 hours after getting home from work in the middle of the night, having been on my feet for a grueling 12 hour shift.

and i smiled. thank you God for giving me another day.

2 thoughts on “perspective

  1. That’s the thing about IF–it swallows you whole so that you can’t see anything but the darkness around you. But I do think that when it chews us up and spits us out, we are stronger for it.

    Lovely post, and I will keep your friend’s dear one in my thoughts.


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