Just in Time

I am deeply humbled today. I am grateful.

This weekend has been a rough one. I reached a new depth of sorrow that I didn't think was possible. Nothing really happened to cause it. Some days infertility gets the best of me. It turns me ugly. It causes thoughts and doubts and anger and hate, disbelief, pride, the list goes on.

I realized, this week, that I have been putting up one heck of a front. I constantly say "Oh, we're doing ok. There are good days and bad days, but you caught me on a good day." I constantly tell myself that it's not that bad. That things could be worse. That I am stronger than this.

But sometimes I just need to feel.

We are mourning the loss of someone that, in the eyes of others, never was and could possibly never be.  I completely understand why people are afraid to say anything to me sometimes. I wouldn't know what to say to me either. I understand.

I sat through sacrament meeting today with my head down. Tears rolled off my cheeks and made dark spots on my red dress. I choked through a few words of the opening song. I kept silent through the rest of it. I sat and cried through the opening speaker who talked in detail about how the strongest time she's felt the calming power of the holy ghost was during her pregnancy, emergency c-section, and first few days of her new daughter's life. I kept my head down and tried to avoid eye contact with this sister when she left the chapel to get a drink.

I whispered to Cam when the next speaker mentioned a lesson we had on fasting a few weeks ago. The men had a great lesson on the importance of fasting and the closeness we receive from our Heavenly Father. I remember that lesson, but a lot differently. The men and women meet separately in the 3rd hour of our church. The men had that great lesson. Us women had a lesson on fasting that was completely focused on what we can do, as women, when we can't fast because we are pregnant or breastfeeding.

Cam looked at me like I needed an attitude adjustment.

Let's be honest. I did.

But I said, "At least I'm here."

I sat and felt Cam's arm around me, my hands in his strong hands, and I felt lucky. I had gathered myself, and the tears had stopped.

Sacrament meeting ended and a sweet, wonderful friend of mine came to talk to me.

I had texted her earlier this morning asking if she wouldn't mind teaching the 7-year-olds for me. I had agreed to teach during one of my extremely convincing fronts of "we're doing just fine. today is a good day."

She was already teaching another class so she couldn't help me out, but asked if there was anything else she could do. I left it at that.

She knelt down by my pew and asked me if I had found anyone else to teach.

I said no.

She put her hand on my knee and asked me if it would be OK for her husband to teach so that I could go home.

And tears of gratitude poured forth as this beautiful, kind woman was able to see exactly what I needed when I was going to stubbornly put myself through more pain than I could handle this weekend. She rubbed my back and I managed to get out a quiet "thank you."

Cam gave me a hug, an I love you, and the keys to our apartment.

And I walked home with tears streaming down my face.

The tears this time were very different, though. I was so thankful. and humbled.

For the first time since we found out about our infertility, I found anger with my Heavenly Father. Surely we have suffered enough through all this. I felt forgotten. I felt angry. I hated Him for creating our bodies this way. I hated Him for blessing every single one of my friends and neighbors with the one thing that we desperately want. And I hated Him for giving me too much to handle. For breaking me down this way.

And then I listened.

I am not forgotten. My God, My Heavenly Father, sent an angel to save me from myself today. He loves me so much that He is giving me this refiners fire to bring me closer to Him. It gets harder when He needs me closer to Him. When I feel like I can't do it anymore, He steps in and lets me know that He is there. That He will never leave me and that He has given me everything that I need in order to come off conqueror.

And what a blessed day that will be.

I am so grateful to that sweet friend for being close enough to the spirit to follow the prompting to help anyway. For not being afraid to give me what I need even when I deny needing any help at all.

I am not strong.

My God is strong.

He is my strength.

Everything that I do, I do through Him. For without Him, I would have given up completely many, many times.

My God loves me. He loves me enough to give me a husband that lives his life in a way that make God's hand so easy to see.

He knows what I need.

What I have thought I needed is wrong. He knows me and loves me and only has my best interests at heart.

I trust Him.

We trust Him.

For the first time in a long time, I can honestly say "Everything is going to be OK." And believe it with every bit of me. For the first time I don't care what OK means, because my Heavenly Father will protect me. He is all-powerful and wants nothing more than us to have the greatest joy. I know that now. If this trial is necessary for me to experience joy, then I will be ever grateful for a Heavenly Father who loves us enough to watch us go through this deep pain.

It takes a special kind of parent to do that.

It takes a perfect parent.

When I got home, I noticed a pink envelope on the ottoman. I don't know how I missed it yesterday, but I opened it and inside was another piece of fabric for our little one's blanket. Along with the sweetest note. One for baby call, one for me.

Each of the 3 pieces of fabric I have received so far have come at such moments of weakness.

I have been surrounded and buoyed up by angels.

How could I ever doubt my Heavenly Father's love for me?

His love is everywhere.

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