Faith and Love. But no Hope?

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And now these three remain: Faith, Hope, and Love.

But the greatest of these is Love.

1 Corinthians 13:13

It's another new month. But I don't mean October. This new month comes with a much heavier weight than the joy of autumn and the anticipation of Taylor Swift's fourth studio album. I mean another new cycle. The start of another new month after another failed month of trying to conceive. It's month 22 in a row of deliberately trying to get pregnant and not succeeding (not counting the year-worth of months we casually tried before that). It's month 22 of unfulfilled hope. It is month 12 of intervened, doctor and drug assisted attempts to conceive. Month 12 of unfulfilled medically assured hope.

 

That hope, it's a tricky thing. The hope is what makes it hurt. Every new cycle, like this one, it's the hope that "this could be the month." Every drug, it's the hope that "this one is going to do the trick." Every ovulation, it's the hope that "this egg is going to get fertilized and become my baby and be the first of my children to bless our home." Every two week wait filled with unusually strong smells or weird tastes or tender breasts or exhaustion or light pink spotting around possible implantation days, it's the hope that "these are symptoms of pregnancy, finally." And then every new menstruation, all of those fresh hopes die; are given up; are grieved. They must ultimately be replaced with new ones, again. But is that continually possible?

 

The death of that hope hurts.

 

Wouldn't it be better to just not hope anymore? Wouldn't it be less painful to not get hopes up just to be let down?

 

I wish I could respond to those rhetorical questions with a determined strength and scriptures to back it up about how God never lets us down and to just keep on truckin' along with that hope in full swing. (There are plenty of them.) But I can't. Not today. Not Cycle 22, Day 1.

 

I have love aplenty. I love my husband with all my heart. I love our families. I love our friends. I love our pup. I love my Lord and Savior with my entire existence. And I never, for one second, doubt God's love for me. After all, He loved me enough to sacrifice His only son for my salvation. That's a love that can't be questioned.

 

And I don't waiver with faith. I truly believe that God is good, and He knows what is best for our future. I believe He wouldn't withhold something I desire so strongly unless it was for a great purpose I can't see. If He's willing to give even His own child for me, why would He keep anything else from me unless it was for some great reason?

 

But, today, the hope is a struggle. The definition in the above photo states that hope means "to look forward to with great confidence and expectation." Well, I simply can't claim that right now. Just yesterday I was doodling our future children's names on scrap paper at work, but today, I can't look at this new month with any confidence that we will conceive. I can't actually expect to see a positive pregnancy test anytime soon, if ever. Too many months of experience have taught me that it's simply not going to happen. Why would this month be any different? We're coming up on the third holiday season I hoped to celebrate with either a baby or a pregnancy. I can't imagine this one will be the one, either. Boo.

 

Hope is tricky, because we hope with our human perspective. I could passionately hope to win the lottery, but it'd be silly to blame God for not granting me my wish. Or I could have hoped desperately to marry some random dude, all the while God knew that Brad was the man for me. Or I can hope with every ounce of my being to conceive a child (or two or five), but God may know that my heart's desire isn't what our future holds. Maybe we are to adopt? Maybe we are not meant to be parents at all. (I'm not at all prepared to accept that one, yet.) That's why hope is tricky, because it's determined by what we hope for, which may or may not be right for us. So basically, I have hope for a future, and hope to serve God faithfully, and hope for an eternity spent with Him in Heaven, but right now this minute, I do not have hope to conceive, at least "naturally" or any time soon.

 

How in the world do you know what God wants for your life? Do you just wait and wait and wait and wait until something happens and then assume that it is His will since it came to pass? Do you continue trying in the meantime for what you want? Or do you just trust that if God wants it to happen, He'll make it happen regardless of the effort put in on your part? After all, Mary conceived without ever even having sex! If God wants us to get pregnant, He can achieve that regardless of whether or not we take drugs, endure invasive procedures, or pee on sticks. Trying desperately and pleading in prayer every month isn't going to accomplish anything if it's not His plan anyway, is it? So what's the point? When do you let go? When do you move on? How do you know what His will is and what it'll take, if anything, to achieve it?

 

I don't know...

 

I think this month is unique with unprecedented difficulty for me. For the last 22 months, I've been devastated every time I didn't conceive, but I never really doubted that I was eventually going to. This month, however, the non-conception came as no surprise. It's what I've come to expect from years of experience. Furthermore, what's changed this time, is now I'm doubting and questioning and confused. Doubting our future. Questioning God's will. Confused of what steps to take, if any. I've always been so confident that I would be a mom, and sure that God knew my life better than I do. I've never truly asked "Why?" before, because I didn't think that as a member of creation I had the right to question the Creator. But this month I can't seem to help it. A lot of "Why?'s" and "What's the point?'s" are swirling through my head right now. I've never crossed this bridge of doubt before, nor did I ever intend or desire to, and I don't know how to navigate this new terrain. And I'm not entirely sure I want to stay in this new hopeless land long-term anyway.

 

Is it possible to have strong faith and love but let go of some of the hope? Is it healthy? Is it okay? Because today, that is where I am.

But what do you do without hope? How do you keep going? How do you give up a dream and longing that God placed so deep within your soul? How do you let go of the hope that you'll one day join Him in creating life? Of the hope of feeling your baby's hiccups from inside your belly? Of hearing his or her heartbeat for the first time? Of seeing that sweet face and recognizing a perfect combination of you and your spouse? Of rocking an innocent child to sleep with a lullaby and a nightlight? Of caressing that soft cheek as he nurses? Of hearing precious coos filling your house? Of looking into her eyes and seeing your future? How?

I'm at a weird place right now. I don't know how to keep the hope alive, but I don't know how to let it go either.

 

I genuinely wish I could be strong and faithful and encouraging and end this blog post with passionate affirmations to never doubt and never lose hope. I love God with all that I am, but today, I can't encourage or affirm. Thank you for allowing me to admit my weaknesses, struggles, wounds, shortcomings, and vulnerabilities. Christian family (which I consider all of you to be) is such a blessing.