I’ve been putting off writing this for days.
Probably because I promised myself to be honest and vulnerable in this space, and for the first time I’m having a really hard time doing that.
So here goes nothing. Here’s my hard and messy and ugly vulnerable truth.
I’m having a really hard time. I’m doing everything I can to encourage other people, and - I - am - struggling.
This isn't what pregnancy was supposed to look like. After praying and fighting so hard for this baby. After spending almost three months primarily on bedrest. After weeks of bleeding, and praying, and bleeding some more. This isn't what life was supposed to look like.
Five months ago we were talking about buying a house. Today we’re talking about moving in with my parents in November when our lease is up because we just don’t know how we’re going to financially survive this year, let alone when the baby comes. I’m officially sixteen weeks tomorrow. Four months. Almost halfway there. Five months is feeling way too short to have everything fall back into place before the baby gets here but we’re doing our best to make sure that we make choices that assure that our baby is safe and taken care of, even if this is the last place I thought I would be at 25.
My career has essentially been frozen in place. I don’t know when I’ll be able to be out and doing photography again, and I’m mourning that more than I realized I would. To be able to do the thing you love every day and call it a job is such a gift. To have that taken away in an instant feels like glass shattering in my lungs. I’ve been photographing people since I was eleven. There are families who’s portraits I’ve taken every single year for five plus years. I don’t know how not to do that. I don’t know how not to be the thing that I have felt God calling me to since I was a child.
But even in that space that hurts so deeply, there is goodness and there is joy, because slowly day by day I am growing towards the other thing I have always known God has called me to be: a mom. My stomach has officially started to swell and I’m starting to feel flutters more frequently now. Its crazy how something so small feels so earth shattering in the best kind of way.
Each day there are reminders that even in this darkness, God is growing something good. Isaiah 43:19 has been my life verse for so many months, and I thought it was about infertility, but I’m starting to realize that maybe its about something else.
It says “Behold, I am doing a new thing; Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
After a year of trying to get pregnant, I thought I understood what a desert feels like. The isolation. The loneliness. But now I’m realizing its so much more. It’s not knowing how far the desert spans or the next time you’ll see people. Its wondering when and if you’ll be able to get the things that you need.
Its standing in a grocery store looking at empty shelves.
Its holding your breath when a person walks by you (instead of smiling like I normally would.)
It’s doing your laundry in the bathtub because you are so afraid of being exposed to something in the apartment Laundromat, because there are so many people coming and going.
Its trying to fill your time each day so you don’t stop and think too much about everything else going on.
Its anxiety pressing on your lungs each night, no matter what you do to keep it at bay.
This week I broke down in my car after grocery shopping. I started having a panic attack before we could even get to checkout. I literally had to leave my husband with the cart and just walk out of the store before I broke down in front of the early morning shoppers.
If I’m being honest, I’m not even sure why I was crying. Maybe its because I’m not used to seeing empty shelves, or having to wear gloves to pick out my produce. Maybe its because the sweet little old lady standing all alone in line who literally went to the store for just a two dollar loaf of bread. Maybe its because I actually love grocery shopping, or at least I used to, but this feels more like a tactical mission. Get in, get out. Don’t get close to anyone. Grab some eggs if you’re really lucky.
I’m trying really hard to adjust to the new normal, and if I’m being completely honest, I hate it. I miss being able to see my friends and hug them. I miss going to church. I miss being able to go see my parents. I miss not having to wear gloves every time I open my door to bring a package inside. I miss not having to sanitize my groceries. And more than anything, I miss the most chaotic and hard thing in my life being my stupid pregnancy symptoms.
But again, I hear God’s promises. His sweet reminder that we are living in that desert right now, and He is going to bring rivers. That even in the wilderness, when things seem impossible, He’s going to make a way. Once again, I’m reminded how humbling it is to be in a place so broken that you understand in the deepest of ways that God is the only one who can fix it. So this week, that is the best encouragement I can offer you. Lean on Him. Cling to Him. Trust that He will fulfill the promises that He has made to us.
And if you’re struggling, please know that you’re not alone.