The long and short of it is that my body is broken, not responding to meds and unless I want to try another round, pay more money, and spend another month focusing my life around conception, I am SOL. And I think, at this point in the journey, I just need to sit down and take a break. The last 6 months, every day I am thinking about everything I do, eat, feel, and experience and I am tired of micromanaging every decision to try and conceive. I am tired of month after month hearing "no, I am sorry, not now, not this time".
I have friends who have been on this journey far long than I have been. Four years, five years, and have spent tens of thousands for just one child. Usually, their first child. But I guess I am just not that strong or determined or maybe I should have let myself heal my heart and body well from the miscarriage that came out of no where. In my heart of hearts I want to spend these fun years playing, laughing and loving on the blessing that I have. I don't want to be tired, emotional, and stimming and unable to lift our baby. Second term infertility is a bitch. You know you can do it if your body is right, but you also feel so much more frustrated every time you find out, it's not this time.
After our miscarriage, I was on a mission to just try again and fix it, but now my body is so out of whack and so unbalanced that I just don't even feel like me. And the grief, when I actually sit and type about it, it's suffocating. I just want to let it go, not focus on it, not dwell in it. I had dreams of being a mom to a big family, but I can't keep forcing my body to do something it's is too broken to do. I am too broken.
Have you ever just had to put something down that your wanted so badly, not knowing if you will pick up again? Not knowing if it will ever happen? I am not that person. I am not good at telling myself no. I am not a quitter. I have fought to complete some things that I wanted to give up on, and I have pushed through discomfort, but I rarely stop myself in the middle of a process and just give up. But I feel like after this, I just feel like there is no fight left in the dog. I feel like my body is just shot. I feel like my hormone levels, my digestion, my heart, and my energy are just at a low, and I need to find myself again.
But in doing that, I let go of a pursuit for a dream. In that I tell God that He is the only one who can make a miracle. I want to enjoy my summer. I want to turn 30 and not be stuck in what I don't have or what's not working. I want to get well, really well, and stop getting sick all the time. I want my business to thrive and to have deep meaningful friendships instead of hiding at home sick, broken, and alone. I want to get back to a place that I was at before I left for Turks and Caicos last year where I feel healthy, look healthy, and am focused holistically on all the blessings of my life, not just the ONE thing I don't have.
This whole journey has given me such a deeper understanding of the world, of our heart, of our emotions, and about how easily it is to get lost in the brokenness of this world. In the last three weeks, each of the three partners in my practice have experienced a major loss, trauma, blow to their spirit. We are all picking ourselves off the floor. It's amazing that the three women who set out to help others heal and see light are finding ourselves in incredible darkness. Some days it feels like we did something wrong like built a building over an Indian burial ground or something like that. The energy of our hearts feels like all three of us are fighting just to be present and able to be in the office. It feels like we are losing love, pieces of ourselves, and some how having to put them back together. It is such a place of brokenness that we are trying to figure out where to step next, not wanting to fall any further.
Sometimes the seasons of darkness come, and there isn't a reason why. There isn't a reason why at this time my body is as bad as it is, but I can't keep walking around like nothing is wrong. I can't keep fighting. I have to stop, step back, accept the broken pieces of myself, and start to heal them. I have to give up for awhile. I have to let go of my dreams for awhile. I have to find wholeness again, as much as I can, so I can maintain the life I have already been given. Sometimes it's not about having more, but enjoying what you already have. And accepting that, loving that, and finding joy in that is what will be far greater than any dream coming true.
So... I guess it's time to let go. I guess this is me letting go. This is my surrender. My cancellation. It can only go up from here because now I just have to heal. Get balanced again, and just enjoy the sun, this cute little kid I made, and regrow. And who knows, maybe when I finally do that, God will bless us, use us, or reveal to us why he said "I'm sorry, no, not now..."
Endometriosis is a very hard disease to have. The more I read about how it affects a woman's life, the more I grieve over my body's brokenness that will never heal. There are treatments, but I will always carry a broken body. I hold such joy, gratitude and reverence for my sweet baby girl, but I grieve, feel lost and broken that I will never be healed in my life time. Like all auto-immune diseases, it's just a part of me. So I just have to admit, I am broken, and I need to take care of myself. I need to fill myself. I need sunshine and joy and hope. And today, I need to surrender my dreams of being a tough girl and going another round. I need to build myself back up. I need to physically, mentally and spiritually let myself heal. And somewhere in there, I hope I learn how I am suppose to move forward. Family of three, adoption, or unexpected miracles.... But for now, I just need to breathe again...
I think I will look back on this post some day in my life, and know it was all for. I will know what God had me wait for. And I have to hold on to that Truth that He has said "yes" in my life and He has said, "no", but everything I need, I already have. And I have to let go, let Him be the artist of my life, and faithfully follow rather than seeing every "no" as another broken place. Even this disease in another way helps me. It help me grow in my compassion. It helps me love more deeply. By saying "no", I need to find the places where I am better for it. By saying "no" I have to see where He has said "yes". And as painful as it is to hear "no", yet again, it isn't going to change. So I have to find the best yes in myself to keep going, accept this broken piece of my life, and continue to hold all of the other parts with some kind of peace, joy and strength.
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