There’s the good & the bad…but this minute is the ugly.
There’s no reason to beat around the bush, it’s one of those days & I’m feeling especially blunt. I hesitate to even jot these words down because once I put them out there, they’re out there. Tomorrow I might regret that. But I’m feeling especially raw & real today. So I’m gonna risk a few blows to my reputation (if there is even one to be ruined) and typing out my honest to goodness struggle because I never want to give the impression that I have it all together. I want you to know the ugly side along with the good side, because that’s the truth.
I’m exhausted in every sense of the word. Physically, for sure. But also mentally & emotionally. And when you’re exhausted, it tends to affect your outlook on life—making everything a bit more tragic & devastating. When I’m this spent—I try to avoid human interaction because it never leads to anything edifying—meaning I end up festering on the inside.
I’m also very aware that this is the exact time when I need Jesus. I mean, I need Him all the time—but right now, I need Him to take the wheel because this car is about to veer off the road at 100MPH.
Call me a heathen but I’m not quite ready to give up the wheel yet. In fact, I’d like to wreak a little havoc first.
I just want to be angry for a moment.
I want to throw a pity party. Attendees: me.
Maybe revel in a tantrum or two.
I want to scream “life isn’t fair” & “why me?”
I want to take all those optimistic quotes & toss them in the fire.
And then perhaps I’ll find solace in a log of cookie dough.
Because screw salmonella.
I can take it.
Last week I tossed another negative pregnancy test in the trash and covered it up so that Andrew didn’t see it. Not because he would be upset or that he isn’t hopeful (good grief, his positivity about all things pregnancy & baby just kills me sometimes—like, literally kills me—not the cute, laughable kind. Can we just not be optimistic for once?). No, I didn’t want to talk about it for the millionth time, I wanted to sweep it under the rug & pass it off as carelessly as possible. Less damage that way.
*And this is where I had to run to the bathroom to wipe away my teary mascara smudges because I had the good sense to write this in the middle of the work day. Brilliant idea, Cheryl.*
This time I thought for a split second, almost long enough to count, that my own little miracle might slip through the cracks. That maybe this time I might get to be that girl who gets lucky after trying for so long. Oh, and how amazing that would feel to be able to tell my family & friends the good news when I fly home for New Years. Perfect timing! I would wear a Mama Bear shirt & make a lame attempt to film their reaction. Then I’d finally get to blow up the “oh baby” balloon for the pregnancy announcement that I’ve been planning for years. And awwww! The baby clothes…
Then I finally snuck a peek at the stick (that I’ve been trying so hard to avoid looking at), all the while thinking “now Cheryl, don’t expect a positive…it’s going to be negative, so don’t be sad…it’s GOING to be negative.”
Sure enough. It is negative.
And I think “I knew that…I’m ok, it’s cool. But maybe I should tap it a little…just in case” and “maybe I drank too much water today so it isn’t reading it correctly” and “maybe I didn’t lay it down the right way.” Because even the facts of science go out the window in these situations. I even leave the stick sitting on the shelf for the evening just in case it changes its mind after thinking about it for a few hours. Can’t be too careful.
Eventually I relinquish all excuses and toss it in the trash. Better luck next time.
You know, no matter how numb you think you become to these things—because you know better & because you don’t want to get your hopes up & because it’s always more of the same—you really aren’t that numb at all. In fact, all those incidents just go on the pile to be recycled later on.
Sometimes I cling on to truth and sometimes I literally fall apart.
I have fully embraced adoption. It is awesome. In fact, I want to adopt whether we can make our own kiddo or not. (If you’re an agent reading this & still think I’m a halfway decent human, I promise I’m not this dark & twisty allllll the time).
I realize that having kids isn’t everything. That may not be what God wants for us and most of the time I’m “ok” with that.
But right now, I’m just mad. And jealous. And testy. And teary.
Because I can’t make a baby. Because I’m missing my window. Because all my friends have their miracles. Because I’m working so hard to inch a little closer to my dreams & goals and nothing ever happens. And because I’ve had this darn speck floating around in my eye for two days.
I’m just MAD.
I’ll come around. I’ll toss & turn for a while in my misery until I finally wise up & give it all back to God. Which by the way, is highly recommended. My source of peace comes only from God—that is how I manage, how I see the good, how I know that I am truly blessed. Jesus is the only reason that I don’t feel this way every. single. minute. of. every. day. I love that I can cling to Him for comfort & that I have an eternity with Him to look forward to (cause life down here isn’t so fantastic). That’s the truth.
It’s just that every once in a while, I actually want to feel the pain & burden of it.
To be a little human.
To not think of the truthful counterpart.
To be a little selfish & material—because in my book, this sucks.
No ifs, ands, or buts.
So just for a minute—one carefree, self-absorbed minute—I need it to be the ugly.