Backwards

I know they say you should never look back, dwell on the past, or move in reverse.

But I think they're wrong.

It's been a little more than three months since my unplanned exit from the blogging world, and every day since then your kind words and continued prayers have amazed me. You have all been such a blessing, but now I realize that while the silence was much needed, it's time to break free from my over thinking and obsessive over analyzing and get back to the business of using my storms to glorify God the only way I know how.

Documenting my feelings, laying them all out completely exposed and then slowly, methodically working backwards to find the blessings in disguise.

Norbet Platt once said that "The act of putting pen to paper encourages pause for thought, this in turn makes us think more deeply about life, which helps us regain our equilibrium".

I need to find my equilibrium, that precious balance once again, so back to blogging I go.

But my new view on life and the good that can be found in looking backwards doesn't have to mean resurfacing the sad parts of the story of my life that's past; I'm just thinking back to times when life was simple. The days when nothing else in life mattered besides having Jesus in my heart, family to love, friends to lean on and plenty of hope for a beautiful future. Those were the days when life was easy, and I'm convinced it's necessary to get back there before I can officially move forward.

I'm pondering life back before three failed IVF attempts, and the realization that my slow growing eggs may very well be failing us despite their perfect-on-paper diagnosis. Times when a prenatal vitamin was enough, caffeine wasn't self diagnosed as a poison, and the future held no fear of a biologically childless family for my husband and I. Those days really aren't buried that far behind me, and I've spend the last few months trying desperately to dig them up and restore them in my mind.

And while completely erasing the past few years of ugliness that comes with trying to conceive isn't an option-or even my desire for that matter-I'm finding myself learning to become transparent to God, acknowledging the fears and emotions that I've tried so hard to sweep under the rug in attempt to pretend to myself-and everyone else-that I'm perfectly fine despite the circumstances, and bring them out into the open by confessing them to the only one who is able to wash them away.

It's a battle every day, but I finally feel myself starting to open up.

We have one more try at IVF before we have to move on, and some days I still fall apart under the pressure of left over scar tissue born from fear of failure, comparisons of other girls cycles, envy of their successful embryos, a lack of faith on my part and questions surrounding everything I've ever believed.

But what's most important is that underneath the debris of it all I'm finding a raw, clean slate full of new possibilities. As someone who used to be completely apposed to adoption as a way to start my family out of pure stubbornness and fear, I'm beginning to allow God to open up my mind to let go of all my past expectations and desiring to fill that void in my heart with whatever He's prepared to give me.

And while I'm still praying that His will is for us to have our own biological children through IVF or any other miracle, at least my heart is beginning to soften towards alternative possibilities, and I know that's a huge step in the right direction for me. Because it means I'm successfully stepping backwards to times when life was easy and I trusted God to take care of me, free of fear, selfish stubbornness and determination to have things my way and in my timing.

I think I'm finally realizing the difference between wanting God's will while hanging on for dear life to what I want for myself, and just wanting God's will, period.

Because there is a huge difference.

And it doesn't mean we have to dismiss the idea of doing everything we possibly can to prepare for our final cycle, either. It just means we know that God is the Creator of life, He alone holds the ability to allow me to become pregnant, and although it may not be in His will to do so, He most certainly can. And because of that possibility, I'll continue to do all I can to bring myself to Him as a clean vessel for this next IVF, mentally, spiritually, and physically.

That means life now consists of a crazy cocktail of yoga, vitamins, acupuncture, random contemplative thoughts on adoption, and a lot of looking backwards to find that lingering peace from better days. Yoga is doing wonders for my hectic mind, acupuncture is supposedly rotating my stagnant blood flow and increasing my Chi, and CoQ10 mixed with Pycnogenol is attempting to strengthening my lady parts and keep free radicals from damaging my slow growing eggs so that when we attempt our final try, we know we did all we could.

I still desperately want to be pregnant; to feel my belly grow with a child that is half mine and half my husbands, interconnected with our very own DNA and blood. But I also have a deep desire to be a mother, however God plans for that to happen, and I'm certain that God wouldn't let that desire burn in my heart unless He had intentions of fulfilling it.

Some days, life is perfect. I don't really mind the struggle that infertility has brought, because I know without a doubt that it's all for the best; especially given the decline in the economy, deaths in my extended family, my husbands recent job loss and countless other setbacks. I don't always feel envy when I see a pregnant belly or attend a baby shower, and it doesn't really bother me that another mothers day has passed me by, once again.

But some days are still hard. Because the secret to my success over infertility is that I've never once doubted that I'd become a mother someday, to my own, biological children-more specifically, four of them-and that doubt is finally starting to creep in as I come to terms with the fact that even the most evasive medical procedure possible hasn't helped us conceive after three attempts, and we are officially marching onward towards our forth and final try.

And it just doesn't make sense.

In my lacking faith, I want answers. I want to know why I manage to produce a bounty of beautiful follicles, yet they never yield a high number of mature eggs. Why the mature eggs we do have fertilize perfectly, yet are slow to develop and change into blasts. Why I'm not pregnant after all these years and all this medical intervention. Why God chose to make a girl who's wanted babies since she was a baby herself completely barren in the first place.

But I know that I may never have those answers. And honestly, it's probably for the best. Maybe God's wanting us to get our money's worth, and He's simply holding out for our last try to give us our miracle. Maybe He's preparing my heart for something larger that will come to play in the future, strengthening my faith and testing my patience. Maybe I've done something wrong and this is my punishment, or maybe I've done something right and this is a blessing.

Or maybe, just maybe, the world doesn't revolve around me.

So for now I'll just look back, and remember when life was simple, perfect, and easy. A time when I didn't have so many questions that I demanded answers for, because I had too much faith in God, too much trust in Him to worry so much about the details. Back when what I had was more than enough, and the mystery of the future was the most exciting part.

I appreciate your prayers, encouragement, and patience with me now more than ever. And with your continued support and a little more faith on my part, I'm hoping to find that perfect balance once again.

The one somewhere between looking back, and pushing forward.

"One's first step in wisdom is to question everything - and one's last is to come to terms with everything."

-Georg Christoph Lichtenberg