I’m finding that this infertility struggle can bring out the worst in me.  Jealousy, bitterness, frustration, pessimism, self-pity…and particularly anger.  I don’t think these traits arise solely from infertility, but rather, they’ve been somewhat dormant in me for some time, and my infertility has simply brought them to the surface.  It’s as if my inability to get pregnant has somehow crumbled or dissolved away my ability to act and believe as if I have things together.  That all things are Going According to Plan.  And although I never thought that I had everything together, I had certainly (albeit subconsciously) bought into the notion that I was in control of my destiny.  Infertility turns that fallacy on its head (where it belongs, actually).  None of us has a guarantee of tomorrow, of what the future holds for us.  Infertility makes that much clearer for me than it ever has been before. 

Martin Luther King, Jr. famously wrote “The ultimate measure of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and convenience, but where he stands at times of challenge and controversy.”  I believe this to be true.  And right now, let’s just say that I’m not to thrilled to see my “measure” revealed by where I am standing in this challenge of infertility.  I’m too often standing in anger, impatience, cynicism, self-pity, and jealousy (just to name a few). 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, though all this, I actually became a better, truly different kind of person?  If my soul is actually polished and made more perfect and beautiful by struggling with infertility–no matter how the story ends?  Because ultimately, my infertility will come to an end one day–even if it ends the day that I die.  This story may not end with children.  But will it end with a courageous, patient, strong, kind and wise woman?  A woman I don’t know now, but want to become?  A woman who comprehends the kind of joy that Emilie understood so well?  A woman who can see the bigger picture, and has somehow turned her hardest struggle into her greatest strength? 

I hope so.  And, unlike getting pregnant, this wise woman beckoning to me at the end of this journey seems clearer and more certain in her existence than any other circumstantial end result.  Perhaps I should long for her, for that future wise and strong me, more than for my barren circumstances to change.

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