The road to hell is paved with good intentions

I was having a great vacation. Really. For about a week, I was actually able to feel pretty normal about things; enjoying my time off from the infertility roller coaster and actually looking forward to gearing up for IVF. I didn't cry all week - which, as Surfer will tell you, is a very big deal.

But over the weekend, Problems invaded my vacation. It started off as a small slap, almost a taunt. We were with some friends who found out they got pregnant - not married, obviously not trying, and they were upset about it. These friends don't know about our struggle. I felt bad for their predicament, but I also felt insulted by their ease in getting... knocked up.

Church was wonderful yesterday, Pastor had a fantastic sermon and we are so thankful for him. It was when we were leaving that we realized Problems had followed us there, and was getting meaner. We turned around to see two couples with babies, about the same age, playing together. Cute, right? Darling. Oh look at the cute couples with their cute babies. But then, walking up behind them, I saw another couple - aquaintances, with whom we were chatting about the time we started trying for a baby. They were about 6 weeks pregnant at the time. They now have a beautiful baby girl, and I saw that the wife's belly is yet again swolen with pregnancy - I'd say she's about 5 months along.

Punch-pow - both of us, right in the jaw. We left church, drove home in silence.

The thing about infertility is that you're always on the edge of sanity - and little things will push you over the edge. Like that. We held each other, prayed, and wept (well, I did, Surfer just held me). We pulled it together to try and enjoy the rest of the day - which we did, finding solace in the fact that we're in this together. And then Problems came back with an evil vengance.

We have been very selective about who we've chosen to tell about this struggle; not only is it extremely painful and often difficult to talk about, but it is also intensely personal as well as being a struggle we're still fighting through. Unfortunately, what was told in strict confidence was shared in well-intentioned thoughtlessness. This got back to me through an email, yet another well-intentioned missive that hit us both so surprisingly hard.

It's easy to hit me hard. As Shakespeare said, "being that I flow in grief, the smallest twine may lead me". But it is a pretty big deal to have Surfer tell me that it feels like he's been kicked in the stomach. And that's how we ended the weekend, the wind knocked out of us. And honestly, that's how we woke up - still feeling the dull ache.

I wish I had a funny punchline, or a better way to end this blog entry. I believe that with God's grace and strength we will rally, but some days putting one foot in front of the other is an accomplishment.