I’ve been in the belly of my law firm for about two weeks now.  My days have consisted of essentially nonstop work, quick turnaround deadlines, meals delivered to the office, little sleep and not much time at home.  Not much time for posting either, though in the midst of this I’ve been having quite a few thoughts about infertility. 

On Saturday night I didn’t get home from the office until around 4:15.*  I still had quite a bit of caffeine in my system, and I had hit my second (or third?) wind and wasn’t really tired by the time I got into bed.  I closed my eyes in the darkness, and lay there for a long time, just thinking.  It is inevitably in moments like this that I pray.  It’s partly out of habit, just from praying as I’m going to sleep each night.  But because I’m a fairly heavy sleeper, and usually fall asleep easily, often my prayers in these moments are quick and forgettable (and possibly incoherent). 

But this time was different.  There I was, in the silence, in the darkness, with an active mind and nothing else to occupy it but the desire to speak to God.  My work for the day was finished.  The brief was submitted to the partner.  I didn’t need to outline the next argument in my mind.  There was nothing for me to do except get the rest that I needed, and the next day I would return to the office to do the next round of edits.  But I couldn’t fall asleep.   In my restless silence, with M already sleeping soundly next to me, I was wide awake, and did not know why. 

I realized that I needed to pray.  To tell God…what exactly?  What did I need to say, to ask?  All I could think was, I just want to be better.  And not just physically better — that whatever it is about my body or M’s body that is keeping us from getting pregnant some how get “fixed” — but more than that, I just don’t want to feel this way anymore.  I am tired of worrying.  I am tired of being jealous.  I am tired of being angry.  This is not the person I want to be. 

That was all I had.  I prayed. 

I am sorry.  Please help me.  I don’t know how to be the way I should be.  I want to be a mom.  I want M to be a dad.  But please God, I want to have peace.  Please give me peace.  Please.  I am sorry that I have not brought this to you, and that I am trying to fix this all myself.  I need you to help me.  I cannot do this myself. 

I can’t.  And I need to stop trying so damn hard. 


*As a disclaimer, this is not typical for me, and something like this probably happens only once a year or so.  The last time I worked like this for such an extended period of time was January 2007.  So thankfully it’s not often that I have the depressing experience of hearing birds singing as I arrive home, making me realize that the next day has already started for them.