It's amazing how I went through life in such a tremendous fog when I was mourning the children I couldn't have.
I missed a lot of things.
I was very numb to a lot of what was happening in my world.
Sometimes I look at my seven year old now, and I just cannot believe how old he is. I can't fathom how he got so big. I know it happened gradually--day by day, month by month. It makes me sad to think about how sometimes I was so deep in my own mourning--my desire for more children--that I didn't pay close enough attention to what I had.
I know I can't go back; I can only do what I can with today. However, thinking back to that time of darkness...that hopelessness...those years of grieving, I wish I could have forced myself to notice the present a little more. I wish I would have accepted each day--painful as it was--as a true gift from God. I wish I would have tried a little harder to cut through my obsession with having more children.
I definitely wouldn't change how dependent I became on God or how much more intimate my relationship was with Him. The spiritual fruits of grief are the most amazing outcomes.
The point of this post is that if I find myself struggling with secondary sub/infertility again (or other circumstances of grief, pain, or even just uneasiness) in the future, I hope I can remember these realizations and put them into practice. I know it will be difficult, but I hope I will attempt to cherish each day I have, because I don't want to repeat those mistakes. I don't want a fog of mourning to consume my life.
Dear God, help me to always recognize that even in the midst of great suffering, you have given me tremendous gifts: my life and the people who are in it. Help me to avoid envy and presumption. They are most definitely sins that magnify pain and deaden us to the world. Lord, please don't allow me to skate through my life, wishing away difficult moments or days. Help me to notice the goodness a little more.
The Discipline of Contentment
Does It Really Matter?