Looking Up

God is speaking to me.

As I mentioned last week, after my first failed round of Clomid, I felt a deep spiritual low. I had “hung my hopes” on a positive pregnancy test, and when that did not happen, I was absolutely crushed. And that led to despair, which led to anger, which in turn led to resentment. Who did I resent, you might ask? Myself, surely…my body, that I felt was continuously failing me, without offering me any semblance of control or options for improvement. My doctors, for not prescribing the exact right concoction of drugs/treatments…though deep down, and even not-so-deep down, I knew they had done their best. But most of all, God. I resented God. Typing it now makes me feel so ashamed, but it was the truth. I was so angry that God did not bless me with another pregnancy when I knew He could have. I was angry that God allowed me to be filled with such sadness, again, without any light at the end of the tunnel. Most of all, I was angry with God because I felt like he had left me alone, all by myself, to defend against this crushing wave of sorrow.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

How could I ever believe that God had left me alone? My God, our Lord and Savior, is with us always—and I know that, deep in my heart. But my mind was clouded; I was blinded by the deceits that the Father of Lies leaves us with when he knows we are at our lowest. At times like these, we are supposed to reach up, not settle at the bottom. But I did, I settled, and I got nice and comfortable in my despair for a few days. It was a terrible place to be, because as I sat so low, I could not feel God at all. He felt far away, and He was, but that’s because I had left Him. I was blind, but now I see.

A friend of mine from Minnesota took a trip to Jerusalem a few weeks ago. She is not Catholic, but a wonderfully spiritual Christian, and she had a deeply mystical experience on the trip. While still abroad, she sent me a message letting me know that she was praying for me while walking through some of the amazing historic sites. She did not know much about my situation at the time she contacted me—I have not shared this particular cross with many friends, simply because it’s too hard to explain, and impossible for others to truly understand. When she contacted me, she mentioned that she felt called to pray for me and Tim, and our fertility as a couple. I was touched, and moved by her friendship.

On Monday, after a fairly positive doctor’s appointment, I first felt myself emerging from the dust of last week. I was starting to feel stronger, more confident, and was noticing a renewal in my faith. When I arrived home from work that evening, I found a package on our door step. Inside was a beautiful hand-carved wooden rosary, crafted with real soil from Jerusalem enclosed in a glass bead at the center, along with a beautiful note from my friend. She explained all of the places she traveled with the rosary, and how she had felt God asking her to pray for me. I was deeply moved by her kindness, and knew with certainty that God was reinforcing my progress. I knew I was meant to be healed by this gesture, and encouraged to persevere. I knew he was reaching for me, even after I had refused to reach for Him.

And so, here I stand, humbled once again. God is so good. I choose to believe that THIS IS OUR MONTH, and if for whatever reason it’s not, well then…I will do my best to look up. 

xoxo, Em