children

I don’t know what else there is to say about the BFN today. I was hoping that some elegant words would come to mind, but most of the words that have come to mind have been less than elegant.

Mostly the words are born out of frustration and anger. Oh, and a ton of sadness.

This month was more difficult than most. It marked a full year of trying. Yes, I totally understand that most people try for a year before they think something is wrong and get checked out. We were just fortunate (or unfortunate?) enough that it was evident that we had a problem on our hands four months in to trying.

For the past eight months I have been on and off of Clomid. I have been stuck and poked and prodded countless numbers of times. I am pretty sure I could give myself an ultrasound if the technician were to accidentally pass out.

This is not how I imagined how this process would go.

I know that I am blessed beyond comprehension in so many ways. I remind myself of that daily when I get sad or upset about this situation.

But this situation just sucks.

I think running is therapy for me.

It’s me, proving to myself, that I can run. I can make it each quarter mile further.

Each step is me not caving.

Each step reminds me of the verses in the Bible that say to rejoice in suffering and trials.

Each step reminds me that because I took one step, the next time it will be easier and faster and lighter.

People have said that you run against no one but yourself.

And that’s true.

But you also run for no one but yourself and because God gave us the ability to choose to run.

I run for me and to be closer to God. Even if I say nothing and He says nothing, it’s sort of like an aligning of me with His Spirit.

I run as fast as I can mentally and physically and emotionally.

Tonight I started crying while I was running, but I kept going. I ran through the tears and found a good pace and felt better.

I was crying because the thought occurred to me that the saddest and hardest part of what we are going through is the thought that if we don’t have children, who will tell future generations how much Frank and I loved eachother? Who will tell future generations the great things that God has done in our lives?

And you know, I don’t have anything else to say about that. It’s just sad. And yeah, maybe we will have kids. And maybe we won’t. I think I’m just sad.

The cool thing about running is that sometimes it gets really hard. Sometimes I think, “I just can’t go on, I’ll never make the next mile.” And then, I push and I make it. That gives me a lot of hope.

So maybe right now it’s hard and I’m just sad, but I will persevere. And God’s Word says that perseverance builds character and character gives us hope.

In sadness I can have hope. And that is awesome.