Showers of Joy With Sprinkles of Grief

This is a post I wrote a while before I had the courage to actually start this blog.  I am happy to announce that the friend mentioned in this blog delivered her beautiful son on the 29th of this month (just two days ago).  :-)  I wish I could say that the blanket I was knitting for my other friend's son is complete, but it's almost there!  I can say that I am amazed at how much I've grown even in the few months that have passed since I first wrote this.  I hope this encourages you all.  Blessings! ~Julia

I'm very happy for my friend.  We are not close friends.  We are more than acquaintances.  We went to college together and were involved in many of the same things, went to the same church, had the same group of friends.  But I wouldn't say we ever made it to "kindred spirit" status in friendship.  Far from it, actually, although I think, given more time together, we probably would have found we have much in common.

But we are friends enough for Facebook.  Ah, Facebook!  The world of keeping tabs on people you wish you could see more often, wish you'd gotten to know better, or even just wish you knew.  The world of proclaiming all the joys and happiness to others in your life who, being just as busy as you, don't have time to stay connected through "old school" forms of communication, like the telephone.  I hear you!  That's why I practically live on Facebook, myself.  Phone conversations take too long and require too much form, most of the time.

So, as I'm browsing the news feed, I see a picture of my friend, blissfully happy, face red from smiling.  I remember instantly that she's expecting a baby and assume that the pictures have something to do with her pregnancy.  I learn from the caption that the pictures are from her baby shower.

Now, baby showers are difficult for me.  They were difficult for me before I was married because of the forced socialization with perfect strangers, acting like you're all the best of friends because you happen to have one friend in common.  But they have become even more difficult as I am made aware each month that having a baby isn't yet in God's plan for me.  I still go to baby showers of close friends and relatives, and I truly do share in their joy.  But even in my happiness for them, it's an occasion perfectly suited to bring the reality of my lack of children squarely to the center of my world.  

So I face the question: Do I look at her pictures, or do I pass them by?

On certain days there wouldn't even be a question.  Chances are, on those days, I'm not likely to even be ON Facebook because I wouldn't be able to handle seeing pictures of babies, reading posts of friends grumbling over the hardships of parenting, or seeing advertisements for "infertility cures," adoption, and contraceptions along the sidebar.  Yes, on days like that, I would definitely opt out of viewing the photos.

But this day has been a good day.  It's been a simple and uneventful day, and I have felt uncharacteristically social.  I smiled when I saw the smile on my friend's face, so I chose to look.

Truly, there was nothing earth-shattering in the album.  My friend is beautiful, full and pregnant with life.  She's the kind of friend that, even on her worst days, still manages to smile and find something to be thankful for, something to rejoice over.  So add to that already beautiful personality the beauty of pregnancy, and she almost exudes a type of perfection.  Not true perfection, but a beauty that is beyond her, beyond any human.  There were pictures of her holding cute little tiny baby shoes, pictures of her with her closest girl friends, and pictures of them all decorating "onesies."  That's pretty much it. 

Yet I could not stave off the ache, the genuine, physically tangible ache, that crept in ever so slowly as I looked through the photos.  It's the kind of twinge of pain you get when you see someone's skinned knee, or stitches and your body can't help but empathize and you actually feel pain.  The odd thing is, my friend was not in pain.  I was not viewing an injury.  The pain was mine.  Mine alone.  It came from inside of me.

Now, on a day when I can joyfully knit a baby blanket for another friend's baby, praying for the baby as I generate stitch after stitch for the little guy, why on Earth would viewing pictures of the joy of a friend in her pregnancy cause me pain?

Truly, it's a rhetorical question.  I don't really want an answer to be offered.  Chances are very high that I can come up with a very long list of accurate answers for that.  Its' one of those "I'm just sayin'..." moments.

Friends, I am genuinely happy for my sweet friend.  I was happy for her when I found out she was pregnant, and I'm happy for her that she has had a healthy pregnancy.  I wish her the best.  But looking through the album, I struggled with thoughts like, "I'm so much older than she is, and I've been married much longer," or "I never saw her becoming a mother so soon after marriage," or "Wow! Look how full and beautiful her pregnant body is...I wonder if I will ever get to look like that."  

I struggle with wanting what she has.  I struggle with believing that I know better than God how things "should have" panned out for me.

And there it is.

Each and every day God whispers gently to me of his faithfulness.  I don't always choose to listen or pay much attention, but it's there.  I am more convinced today than I was seven years ago that God is walking WITH us through this journey.  That may not mean anything to some people, but for me it's my lifeline.  The pain I bear, I do not bear alone; even when my sweet husband is away for the week in the field, I am not alone.

Some Thoughts on Words

It took me a while to realize that people in general are not as insensitive as they can sometimes seem.


When I was a child, a good friend's mother died suddenly and unexpectedly.  My younger sister and I were very sad because the woman was our mom's best friend, and she was our best friends' mom, so she was very much like a second mom to us.  I remember wanting so badly to be with my friends who had just lost their mother, but also being so afraid to go see them.


I was afraid because I didn't know what to say.  I didn't have any thoughts or words that would make everything alright, that would make my friends feel better.


The only reason I knew this at a young age was because I was sad, too.  I was grieving, too.  There was nothing that could be said to make me feel better after the loss of my friends' mother, so there was nothing I could say to them.


My sister and I went to see our friends, and we sat there with them, on their couch, and we were sad with them.


I don't remember saying a word.  I remember sitting there, in the house that had always been full of life because of their vivacious, beautiful mother.  And I remember being sad with my friends.  


And it was okay.  The silence was good.  It was appropriate for the moment.  It was what we all needed.  When it was time to go, we hugged our friends goodbye and left, knowing that they knew that we loved them.  Knowing they knew how sorry we were over their loss.  Knowing they knew we were still there for them.

Words are not always an appropriate response.
Yet we are "fixers."
We like to wrap things up neatly.
We like to make everything right.
Sadness makes us uncomfortable.
Broken things, broken people, should be fixed right away.
So we try to mend things with our words.
We try to ease our own discomfort by speaking knowledge into a situation.


I've been guilty of it, myself.


It used to upset me, to the point of anger, when people would try to fix, or mend, my infertility with their words.  How dare they try to speak knowledge into a situation they know nothing about!  How dare they pretend that they can even begin to imagine what it must feel like to walk in my shoes!  How dare they act like the information they have to offer is so perfectly appropriate that I will be cured of my infertility and get pregnant by following their advice or hearing their story of a miraculous conception!  Can they walk on water, too?


Yes, I have felt that way...altogether too many times.


I started being flippant, and launching the news of our infertility into a group of people after initial introductions for the simple purpose of shocking them into silence.  It's amazing how uncomfortable that can make people...the sudden news that someone they just met is infertile, especially when that person shares it as casually as talking about the weather.  But, it bought me a few advice-free interactions with people.


Years later, in a movie theater, there was a young woman in a wheelchair taking our movie tickets.  I saw her stare at my legs the way I stare at new mothers with their infants, and I was broken.  It was not a stare of anger, or bitterness, or hatred...just a look of longing that flits across the face in an instant even as the stare continues.


I realized that I have been on the other side.  The side of not knowing what to say while facing an elephant in a room and feeling the need to say something about it.  I realized that I had not only said stupid things, but I had avoided conversations and even people altogether so I wouldn't have to deal with being uncomfortable.


Do people still say stupid things to my husband and me?  Yes.  I could rattle off a whole list related to our infertility.  Most of what we hear today is a repeat of what we've already heard from others.  If it's not a cliche, or advice, it's usually a story about someone they knew who adopted a baby and then got pregnant afterward (the implication being that adoption will cure our infertility).


Is it still irritating?  Yes.
Do I still get angry?  I'd be lying if I said I don't, but I can say I don't get angry as often.


So, what's my point?



My point is that people are going to say stupid things.  People that love you dearly, and people you've just met.  And although those things may sting and drive home the reality we face every day, it helps me to assume good will.  I try to assume that they are saying that stupid thing because they care, and extend the grace to them that I'm expecting from them, even though they didn't give it to me.


If you're a fertile friend who is realizing you may have said something that might have stung someone on this journey, give yourself some grace, apologize if it's appropriate, and realize that people dealing with the inability to have children are constantly cycling through the stages of grief.  Some days will be harder for them than others, so try not to give advice.  Be the shoulder to cry on, because that's often all they need.

Living in These Days of Grace

I am very excited about what's ahead!  I'm not certain how it will pan out, and I'm not certain how to get there, but I am certain that I'm supposed to move forward, so that's what I'm doing.

My enthusiasm stems from something that was laid on my heart on Saturday.  Really, it was laid on my heart years ago, I just didn't know what it was or what to do with it.  Here's the story:

• One day my husband and I felt very strongly we should stop trying to prevent pregnancy, even though we were not yet "ready" to have children.  
• Soon after that, we realized that getting pregnant wouldn't happen for us as quickly as it seemed to for other "normal" people - we realized we were not normal.
• A desire to begin having children grew within us and (what seemed like) "all" of our friends and siblings began having copious amounts of children.  Much pain ensued.
• We embarked down the path of fertility treatments with much hope, and we grew stronger in our love for each other and for the Lord each step of the way.  
• I became aware that there was a real need within the church for support for couples going through infertility.  Those I knew going through it felt isolated and unable to talk about it with the very people who were meant to help bear their burdens.
• All the fertility treatments failed completely (in the sense of producing children) and it suddenly dawned on me that I needed to, that I wanted to, live in the here and now and be fruitful and productive in the moments God has given me to live.
• The idea of creating a place people could go in order to realize that they're not alone and perhaps be encouraged in hearing from another on this journey came to mind and this blog was conceived.  I didn't birth it until a year later because I was afraid.
• We moved and were looking for ways to get plugged in and serve in our local church.  While at a leadership meeting, still unsure how to serve as a couple in light of my husband's upcoming deployment, the idea of developing a bible study specifically targeting the issue of infertility popped in my head.
• I shared the idea with my husband and we immediately began brainstorming what we would cover, how long it should last, and what a study like that would look like.  

We are both very, VERY excited about this upcoming study!  We approached our pastor to see if he knew if there was even a need in this small congregation for something like this.  He put me in contact with a lovely woman on a similar journey.  She brought it to my attention that there are others, as well, that would benefit from a study on this issue, although they might not consider themselves to be under the label of "infertile."

I am thankful for a husband who thinks linearly, as I tend to be a more abstract thinker.  As we brainstormed, I was reminded again why we make such a great team.  He's able to organize the subject matter that we would want to address in the study, and I am able to remind him of the emotions attached to those areas.

I am thankful, also, that God is giving me a more clear direction on this journey.  Yes, it seems tragic that a young couple who longs to have children is unable to conceive and bear a child.  But how much more tragic it would be if that young couple spent all of their time and energy on longing for children, and missed out on the moments of today!  

Ephesians 2:4-10

It is my prayer that, as we continue to struggle with the angst and pain of a God-given desire which is currently unfulfilled, that we not lose sight of how short this life is that he has given us, so that we will remember to ask him how he wants us to make the most of the days he's given us in the midst of the circumstances he's provided for our good and his glory.

Purple Belly-Button Ring

Sometimes I wish that our bodies did something truly weird in the first weeks of pregnancy to let us know we are pregnant.  My vote is for a purple ring around the belly button.  Oooh!  Or maybe a purple big toe, or left knee cap.  Not the color-of-bruises-purple, but a color that you'd find in the crayon box, like lavender.  Maybe you have a different favorite color.  Regardless, I think it would be fantastic if there were one unmistakable clue that we could easily keep hidden that would indicate pregnancy before a pregnancy test would be effective.  None of this waiting until day 28 (or day 33 in my case) to find out.  It seems ridiculous to me that all the symptoms of impending Periodness (aka PMS) are the same symptoms of pregnancy.  I've thought this many times before, but I felt compelled to share it today. 


No, I am not pregnant.  No purple ring around the belly button for me (seriously, how cool would that be?).  Instead, I spent the nights of an entire week laying awake wondering what I would do with this blog if I were in fact pregnant; wondering how I would tell my close friends who are also dealing with infertility; wondering if I truly do like the name my husband loves for a girl; wondering, wondering, wondering....

I finally decided to have my husband pick up a pregnancy test while he was out.  Of course, it was negative.  It always is.

I wasn't extremely late, but I was late enough that if I were pregnant I would have been three weeks pregnant (seriously, my mind would not stop thinking about it all....we NEED purple rings, I tell you!).  Everything last month had lined up.  I knew when I ovulated, we had sex at the right time, had other bodily signs I'll spare you from reading that left us more confident than usual that my "lateness" this time was not just my body being ridiculous.  I should have opted for the pregnancy test sooner.

Well, since we don't have purple rings, I'm thankful we at least have the technology of pregnancy tests we can take at home.

Here's to another month of living like newlyweds on a honeymoon :-)  Here's to not having to worry about causing friends pain.  And here's to knowing that even though my idea of what's best for me isn't panning out, I can trust that God's idea of what's best for me is better than anything I could hope for.  I sure would like a glimpse into His plan sometimes (and a purple ring).

Have a great weekend!

One Good Week

There is one glorious week for me almost every month.  It's that perfect period of time when there is no waiting, no expectation.  It follows grief and precedes expectation.  That week is a wonderful break for me emotionally.  Sometimes I reflect during that time, but often I just enjoy the peace.

Grief, peace, anticipation (with a bit of impatience), disappointment and then grief again.  That's the basic cycle of my life, of our life.  My husband goes through it, too.

There are those rare months where we don't think about it.  From time to time our lives are so incredibly full that there's barely time to try to get pregnant, much less think about whether or not we are.  Those months are peaceful as well.

This month, I thoroughly enjoyed that week of peace.  It was a week of freedom for me.  Freedom from grief, freedom from anticipation, freedom to have nothing distract me from the moment of "now."  I love being in the "now" when it's peaceful.

When I'm not in that wonderful week, I still have peace.  It is buried a bit deeper and takes quite a bit more effort to draw from, but it's there.  Sometimes, I try to distract myself from the things that are distracting me from that deeper peace, and I find that my mind becomes so jumbled with thoughts and emotions that the pain of this journey becomes more difficult to bear.  I suppose it's similar to being in a place of denial.  I prefer the genuine peace.

I rely on my husband to help keep me grounded.  Or I try to.  I don't think I've done as well this month.  This month, things were different after that perfect week of peace than they've ever been.  I'm sure any of you dealing with infertility have experienced a month where your body did such weird stuff at every stage of the cycle that you had yourself, and maybe even your husband, convinced that you might actually be pregnant this time.

I've been dancing on that line this month.

This "month" is almost over for me.  My husband lovingly offered to buy a pregnancy test for me to take, just to quiet the uncertainty and calm my anxiety.  But I declined.  I've been able to tap into that deeper peace over the last few days (or perhaps I'm fooling myself and I'm simply distracted by our recent move).  Either way, I feel more equipped to handle a negative test result, or bodily signal that I'm not pregnant again than I did before.

So, dear friends, as I try to remember to keep my mind stayed on Him who gives perfect peace, I will also try to remember to pray that you will have that same, deep peace, even in the midst of pain.

The Happiest Place On Earth

No, we did not buy this ;-)

It's been a lot longer than I intended since my last post. It turns out that Internet at the Disney resorts costs quite a bit of money per day.  Since we are at Disney in the first place, we are already splurging a bit on the cost of food (for the sake of convenience) and also just buying things we don't need, like lattes, treats to eat, and souvenirs. It is, after all, a vacation. We budgeted for those extravagances. We did not, however, think we'd need to budget for wireless Internet in our room. I would (and did) assume that a resort would include it as one of the amenities offered to guests during their stay. Thankfully, I remembered my smart phone is smart enough to provide me with Internet access wherever I happen to be.

Cinderella's Castle
decked out for Christmas

And I happen to be at Disney World, "the happiest place on earth."

And we are very happy! I didn't know how I'd feel being here just after my monthly smack in the face that I'm not pregnant, especially since Christmas at Disney is one of the busiest times of the year. I knew there would be kids running all over the place, even more adorable than usual because of the magic of this place. But it's actually been quite fun, for both of us.

As close as I could get to
capturing the "happy" moments ;-)

We find the tantrums from exhaustion slightly adorable, the kids in costume completely precious, and the frantic adults pushing weary or sleeping children in strollers all over the park absolutely hilarious! :-)  I've been working on capturing an image to depict "the happiest place on earth" in all it's glory, but I haven't been fast enough with my camera.

My favorite missed moment was the image of a family standing in line for a ride, their little boy hanging on one of the rope-links used as a divider with his mouth chewing on the rope while his older sister stood screaming and beating her dad's legs as the dad looked helplessly ahead, willing the line to move faster. It was priceless. It made me smile.

Now, before you go jumping to conclusions, I don't delight in these scenarios out of spite or malice. Trust me, I've watched enough kids on my own and experienced plenty of those moments of desperation to know that it's neither pleasant nor fun. But I've been there and survived. Granted, the kids were not my own, but I'm looking forward to the day they are. And if that day never comes, I can still appreciate the situation when I see it.

So many parents bring their kids to Disney in anticipation of the great time that will be had by all. They want to experience all the sights and sounds, and they try to squish all the activities into a period of a few days. It's not cheap to come to Disney, remember. So the kids get exhausted, miss their naps, eat more junk food than usual, and conk out or freak out.  Then the parents either scold them with threats of taking away prized treasures and promised excursions, or else cave in helplessly with a look that says, "Why did we come here?"

Little princesses!  :-)

So, when I see a meltdown here at Disney, I try to let my countenance show that I'm not bothered or negatively affected by the situation, hoping that will encourage the parents to extend a bit more grace than usual, since it's supposed to be the happiest place on earth.

As for the precious moments, they steal my heart. We've seen so many tiny princesses and Tinkerbells running around with an air of royalty and daintiness that I feel I should curtsy and call them "your majesty" with a smile. We've seen young pirates, space rangers and cowboys, eyes wide in wonder of the things they see around them. One young boy, while standing in line for food, turned to his dad and said emphatically, "This is the BEST day EVER, Daddy!" Like I said, it stole my heart.

This is one of many of my favorite moments observed

My husband and I walk around, observing these scenes, and hope to one day have the opportunity to bring our own children here to experience the magic of Disney. As it is, I'm extremely grateful to be able to walk around with the feeling of a newlywed on a honeymoon, and I'm also as thankful that my frame of mind is such that I can enjoy living vicariously through the parents I see here. Here's hoping the mind-set lasts :-)

Merry Christmas!

Gluten Free??? Me? Why, yes! Yes, I am.

(This post is dealing with what was right for me.  This is not an advice column.  I am not a physician or medically trained.  Please consult your physician about any major diet changes.)

I love to bake.  I love scooping, and measuring, mixing, and stirring.  I love rolling out dough, shaping it, cutting it, smelling it, and baking it.  I love the smell of yeast bread rising and baking.  I love the feel of pie dough, cookie dough, and bread dough between my hands.  The very act of kneading bread or cutting shortening into flour with my hands for pie dough is equivalent to an hour long therapy session.  I love it!  Aprons, rolling pins, measuring spoons, whisks, mixers....these are the things I get excited about seeing in catalogs and store windows.  Give me a gift card to a William's Sonoma or Crate and Barrel and I'll probably swoon (or squeal with glee and nearly strangle the giver with a huge bear hug).

But my very favorite thing to bake has always been bread.  To give you an idea of how much I love baking bread, let me share that I once received a very expensive bread machine as a gift, and I was a little sad.  I didn't want to hurt the person who gave it to me, so I kept it for a while, and I used it twice.  I eventually gave it away to a friend who needed to make her own bread and had neither the time nor desire to do so. The person who gave me the machine was unaware that the reason I loved home-made bread so much was for the simple act of making it.  It is just short of heaven for me to be in the kitchen making bread.

When the whole idea of "going" gluten-free  first came to my attention, I was not kind.  I did not have any real details.  To me it sounded like another fad diet that was coming from somewhere out West for celebrities to sound important.  I did not know that there is a real illness that is actually quite serious attached to gluten, as well as various levels of sensitivity that can affect health to a lesser degree.  I certainly never dreamed that living without gluten would ever impact my world directly.

My husband and I had been rolling along the path of infertility for several years, and some health issues I'd had for what seemed like forever were getting worse and making life rather difficult.  I had been to doctors many, many times throughout my life because of my various symptoms, and I was always tested for the same things: diabetes, thyroid issues, and anemia.  Always, without fail, my test result came back "within normal limits". 


As I got older, more symptoms started to surface and I was tested for Autoimmune Disorders with the suspicion of Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Again, everything came back normal.  No doctors could account for why I was having the issues I was having, and I was growing frustrated.  I knew I wasn't crazy, that the symptoms were real, but there was nothing that anyone could do allopathically.  The idea of seeing someone who could treat me with acupuncture came to mind, and I put it on a back burner.

We went through our various fertility treatments over the years, and came to a place of waiting for the next step.  I was more miserable physically than I'd ever been, I was emotionally spent, and the hormones had wreaked havoc on my body.  I asked my husband if we could use some of the money we'd saved for fertility treatments to focus on getting my body better.  He agreed, and was fully supportive of me going to a naturopath, because he knew nothing could be done for me in the allopathic world beyond pain management.

We went to see a physician who had been highly recommended by a close friend of ours.  He tested me for various different sensitivities to food, and one of the many that I had was sensitivity to gluten.  Gluten, sugar, milk, and eggs were my major ones.  I was disappointed, to say the least.

So, I went home, Googled "gluten" and was greatly encouraged by the blogs I found.  I wasn't looking for blogs, but I found them to be the most helpful sites with the most useful information.  My fears of never being able to bake bread again (or even bake pastries) were laid to rest.  There are indeed many pioneers who love to bake as much as I do that forged ahead and paved the way for others to have ample recipes, resources, encouragement, and support to join the ranks of gluten-free bakers.  (If you're looking for some, go here.)

As for my health, the plan was to do an elimination diet.  But for me it was a lifestyle change.  Although I loved baking, I did not enjoy cooking in the least.  If it wasn't fast, easy to prepare, easy to clean up, and yummy, then it wasn't an option for food at our house.  I will say, a lot of that stemmed from the fact that I was tired all the time, had very little energy, and was usually in pain.  (And, yes, the question, "Can I really handle being a mom if I feel this way all the time," had entered my mind many times....that was part of my case for getting my body better.)

I was armed with determination to feel better, a game plan, a list of things I absolutely could not eat, and some menus for each progressive week with recipes.  I was ready to embrace this thing in full force.  The first week was a fast (which involved drinking a specially formulated shake five to six times a day and eating no food but drinking lots of water).  After the third day, I felt better.  By the end of the week, I was eager to cook.  

And can I just say: I had no idea how much fun cooking could be!  I had no idea how many vegetables existed that I had either never heard of or never tried!  I had no idea that a recipe with only four ingredients could be spectacular (even my husband liked it...it wasn't just b/c I was "starving")!  I had no idea how therapeutic chopping vegetables, onions, and mincing garlic could be!  It was as therapeutic as kneading bread :-)  I was happy.  My husband was encouraged because he noticed a difference in my countenance, in how I felt, in my energy level, everything.  He said the biggest thing was that I didn't mention the pain in my joints anymore.  That's because there was no pain!  It was great!  :-)

(Now, it's important for me to note here that the pain in my joints is definitely explained by certain foods.  As I was allowed to reintroduce foods to my diet, I did encounter joint pain.  In fact, I am typing right now with joint pain throughout my body because I tried to add coconut back to my diet a few days ago (I really miss coconut).  So, since I strictly avoid gluten and am not ever attempting to add that back to my diet, I cannot say whether or not I get joint pain from eating gluten.  I can definitively tie it to milk, potatoes, and coconut.  And I suspect processed sugar may also be a culprit, but I avoid processed sugar rather strictly as well.  However, joint pain wasn't my only concern, and it's not the only symptom that is gone.)

Somewhere along the way, I realized that getting pregnant was not, and could not be, the end all-be all for me.  I could not allow my desire to get pregnant and to be a mom to consume my life.  I praise God that the pain and my other symptoms became intense enough that my health took precedence over trying to get pregnant.  I cannot imagine having an infant or a toddler while trying to cope the way I was having to cope.  But now we're at a crossroads.  There's an opportunity to get put on a waiting list for In-Vitro (our next fertility treatment option), but my PCOD symptoms have improved dramatically in the last three months.  I do not want to undo all the positive progress by putting myself through a rigorous round of hormone therapy, not to mention the stress involved with that procedure.  Add to that an upcoming deployment in our military future and we've got quite a lot to think about.

We are approaching this decision the same way we have each of our other fertility treatments, with much prayer and discussion.  Deep down, I'm hoping the dietary changes I have made will prove to reveal the cause of our infertility.  But I've been on this road long enough to know that there are not always explanations or answers.  So, part of me wants to move forward, so we don't miss our window of opportunity.  Part of me wants to wait and see if the next three months will be any different.  And beyond all that, there is the part of me that whispers continuously, "God knows what He's doing.  He is the one who opens and closes wombs. Nothing you do, or do not do, can make you pregnant if it's not His timing."

Some days, those thoughts do not bring me comfort.  Some days I like to believe that I know better than God does what's best for me.  My four short years in college are enough to remind me that that is truly not the case.  So for us, it's currently about trusting and waiting.  Sometimes it's about us trusting and moving forward, but at the moment it seems we are being asked to wait.