I realize I don’t write on this blog a lot and more importantly, I don’t really write in “real-time.” I journal frequently, but if it makes it on the blog it’s usually weeks, if not months after I initially wrote it. That’s because I need that distance to gain perspective and work through the emotions of whatever my heart is going through. But this morning is different. This morning, I am writing from the most vulnerable and real place I can. Because I think it’s important to live out this story from a place of authenticity in hopes that it helps others.

I’m not going to go into a lot of personal details but a few months back I went to a new fertility doctor and he had some great news. I was formally diagnosed with something that might explain my infertility. But even better, it was usually correctable with medication. And that was such a relief to me. All the questions, all the doubt, all the “am I going crazy?” gave way to this incredible ignition of hope. The doc was confident I would conceive within these next few months.

And here we are, a few months later and J and I had every reason to believe this month we were pregnant. Again, not a lot of details but as much as I tried to tell myself, “don’t get too excited,” I couldn’t help but feel this hope fully bloom within my heart. I was peaceful, I was happy, in a weird way, so content.  This month was different. I just knew it.

And so, I got up early this morning, with sun barely glimmering behind Portland’s gray January skies and I took a test. And instead of watching the seconds tick by on my phone, I decided to read today’s entry from “Jesus Calling” by Sarah Young. And this is what it said:

January 4th:
“I want you to learn a new habit. Try saying, ‘I trust you, Jesus’ in response to whatever happens to You. If there is time, think about who I am in all my Power and Glory; ponder also the depth and breadth of my love for you.

This simple practice will help you  see Me in every situation, acknowledging My sovereign control over the Universe. When you view events from this perspective-through the Light of my Universal Presence-fear loses its grip on You. Adverse circumstances become growth opportunities when you affirm your trust in me no matter what. You receive blessings gratefully, realizing they flow directly from my Hand of Grace. Your continual assertion of trusting Me will strengthen our relationship and keep you close to me.” (scripture referenced: Psalm 62:3, Isaiah 40:10-11, Psalm 139:7-10).

And just that like that, I knew the test would be negative and it was.

One line, not two. And I’m heartbroken and hurting. I tried to be strong when I told my husband, but as soon as the words, “I’m not pregnant,” left my mouth, I crumpled into a million tears and sobbed against his chest. And questions and doubts are whirling around in my head and that assured sense of hope my heart felt just four hours ago? A part of me feels like I need to pluck it from its roots and flush it down a drain.

But amidst my tears, I feel a Hand, heavy with comfort, resting on my shoulder. I felt it there when I walked into the bathroom to see the negative pregnancy test. And I feel it now. And maybe this is what trust feels like. It feels like hurting but able to love. It feels like doubting but knowing there is something bigger going on that I don’t understand. It means crying my eyes out but still hearing a Voice that comforts me. “Just wait,” It says. “Just wait.”

Trust is feeling the true depth of yet another crack running through my heart but knowing Who to turn to for healing. It means feeling so utterly small, but also hugely brave and strong. It means lingering questions but realizing the answers are not what provides comfort.

And so I am writing from this honest place of vulnerability because I want you to know that I’m not clinging to a blind faith that is only able to trust once I look back on something. I can’t necessarily make sense of all of this. I wish I wasn’t going through this. I wish this morning’s test showed two lines. With all my heart I prayed for that. But I need you to know I am not left alone in this. I believe in a Peace Giver that not only allows my tears, but has cried them with me, full knowing that what lies ahead is something more beautiful and extraordinary that my heart can even comprehend.

I know there are so many out there struggling and hurting as I am this morning. Whose wounds feel like they are swallowing you whole. I’m not here to say they shouldn’t hurt or that because you hurt, you aren’t trusting. No, instead I invite you to allow your pain to whisper, “I trust you, Jesus.” For Love can hear even the most quiet of whispers.

6 Comments on “Vulnerable

  1. Sweet sweet Beka. We are so sorry. Your burden is our burden too. We love you and are praying always. “Wait” is the hardest word in the Christian walk!!

  2. So many things I want to say and yet I will just say *thank you* for sharing these thoughts, your heart, in this space. This post was a comforting reminder to me today, when I needed it the most. I’m so sorry you’re walking this valley right now. Please know you’re not alone. xo

    • Thanks so much Emily. While in so many ways it is a valley, it is a beautiful one too. More and more, I feel like my eyes are opening to the wonderful mystery that is Christ’s presence. I know it’s a road so many of us walk (especially concerning infertility). Much love.

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