It’s Right There

When I can’t sleep, I often do a google search for infertility blogs. I have found many that I now follow. I like to go to the beginning and read their whole story. It gives me hope to read about people in my current place who eventually did carry a pregnancy or adopt, or whatever else. That’s what inspired me to start this blog – I wanted others to be able to read my story start to finish, assuming I will have a happy ending somehow, someway. Or maybe someone will find comfort if I don’t that they aren’t alone. I don’t know if anyone reads this yet, but I hope someday my story brings the same peace to others that stories have brought to me.

Anyways, one I have been reading lately, Life From Here, I read in a little different way than I usually do. I started in the middle of her story, read to the end, then went back to the beginning. She struggled through years of infertility and surgeries. Then unexpectedly got pregnant with her only son who she tragically lost at 21 weeks gestation due to P-PROM. She struggled through more infertility, failed IVF attempts, and finally came to terms with the fact that her body could not support a pregnancy. They pursued adoption, and ended up with an amazing open adoption of their daughter. A couple years later, a crazy amazing miracle happened – she did become pregnant, and ended up delivering early, but having a healthy baby girl.

I started reading her story at the point she got pregnant with her second daughter. I read through her pregnancy up to current posts. Then I went back to her very first post (4ish years ago I believe?) and have been reading from there forward. It’s been actually really cool for me in a weird way. Since I know how the story ends, since I know what’s next, sometimes I find myself smiling when she talks about the pain of thinking she’ll never be pregnant again. Or the uncertainty of the adoption process, if it will work, if they’ll have a baby, if it will be a good relationship. I smile because I know how it ends. I can see 2 years down the road. I smile because I just want to say: it’s right there. Just hang on. You’ll enter in to an amazing open adoption with your daughter’s birth family. You’ll bring home a healthy, beautiful little girl. You’ll get your pregnancy and your miracle baby. It’s right there. When she’s lamenting the adoption process and not sure if they’ll ever get matched or end up with a baby, I’m thinking: you don’t know it, but your baby has already been conceived. She’s just around the corner. Hang on. It’s right there.

It got me thinking: I wonder if God is thinking the same thing about me. He can see the big picture, He knows what’s coming up, what’s just around the corner. I wonder if He’s saying: just hang on. It’s right there.

Trying to trust in that truth today.

11 thoughts on “It’s Right There

  1. luna says:

    wow, I am floored. thank you so much for your lovely comment, and for this, which brought me to tears. I love how you recount starting in the middle of our story before going back to the beginning. (I think you summarized my story better than I have!) those were some really dark days, and they began long before I ever started blogging. one of the hardest parts for me throughout was being stuck in that uncertainty, not knowing if/how/when it would ever end. I love your kind, encouraging words. if only I could have heard them at the time and know them to be true…

    wishing you all the best in your journey. I know it’s so very hard. here’s hoping your truth is right there too.

  2. luna says:

    …known them to be true (oops)!

  3. What a fascinating way to read Luna’s story. I’m glad you found her blog — it’s one of my favorites.

    Hang on, indeed. One way or another, we all eventually get off the Island of Infertility.

  4. Kristin says:

    I hope that one day your blog can bring someone the same sort of comfort and hope that Luna’s blog brought you. Glad you found her blog. She’s a fabulous writer and well worth reading.

  5. Justine says:

    This is lovely. Though the happy endings aren’t always the ones we envision at first, it’s good to know that they exist, even at the end of winding roads. You’re right — this is why we blog. xo

  6. Kymberli says:

    Luna is one of my long-time friends in the infertility community. Her adoption and later, her delivery of Z is are collectively one of my most memorable moments in the infertility blogosphere.

    I was glad that she shared your post with us. I can remember at the start of my path feeling much the same way that you do. Reading your words reminded me of the mantra that I used to tell myself way back when I was still ttc my first: every day is one day closer. There was comfort in that thought for me, because I chose to believe that there was a baby waiting at the other end of that path for me. Sometimes the only thing that got me through the bad days was knowing that I was one step closer.

  7. Mud Hut Mama says:

    Really beautiful post.

  8. missohkay says:

    Here from Too Many Fish to Fry and I agree – what a great post! I don’t usually go back and read people’s stories, but now you’ve inspired me to, so thank you!

  9. sharah says:

    I read some of my old posts sometimes and want to go back and tell myself that it will all work out. It’s an odd feeling to know that I wrote those words and yet I’m not that person any more.

  10. Kathy says:

    What an awesome post. I too came here via Luna and love the way you approached reading her blog and how you shared about your experience here. I am so glad that it has inspired you and brought you hope for your journey.

    I can really relate to this part of Luna’s comment above: “One of the hardest parts for me throughout was being stuck in that uncertainty, not knowing if/how/when it would ever end.”

    I felt the same way throughout my five year journey through secondary infertility, recurrent pregnancy loss and neonatal death. I never gave up hope that we would someday be able to have the family of our dreams, but I also had to be willing to let my vision for our family to evolve.

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