Not my plan

Thursday was a bad, bad day- the kind of day that you wish you could wake up from to realize it was only a dream.

Without sharing every last detail of our personal lives (because you probably don't care and you definitely don't need to know), we got some terrible news from my doctor.  After experiencing the worst pain of my life (and I've had a kidney stone, y'all), the doctor told me in the kindest way possible that my chances of ever conceiving a child naturally are slim to none.  At that point, the physical pain was no comparison to the emotional blow.

Until now, our "problem" with fertility has always been Andrew.  Now it's me, too.  Inadequate doesn't even begin to describe the way I feel.  Thankfully, I have basically the sweetest husband ever.  Boy, am I glad that we are in this together.

Found this on the bathroom mirror today.

Less than two weeks ago, I was posting about how excited we are to adopt.  Nothing puts a damper on joy like a big dose of bad news.  We're still excited about adoption, but clearly a larger part of ourselves than we realized was (is) still attached to the idea of having biological children.  I wonder if that will ever go away.

I'm amazed at how quickly the anger and doubt came rushing back yesterday.  I immediately started asking the same old questions again.  Why those people, who are yelling at their child(ren) in the hallway at the school where I work?  Why is this so hard for us?  Why is God withholding this good thing from us?  Ugh.  I thought I was done with these questions.

I asked my mom why God allows these things to happen.  She replied, "Because he wants us to trust him."  I have to admit that I don't like that answer very much sometimes.  Okay, a lot of the time.  But at this point, I don't know where else to turn.

If you would have asked me in 2007 where I thought I would be in five years, this is certainly not the story I would have written for myself.  In a conversation with our friend the other night, he stopped at one point and said, "This has really been a crazy year for the Fenricks, huh?"  I teared up.  Yeah.  Not even close to what I envisioned.

I'm trying to hold onto the hope that perhaps there is an even better ending to the life I had planned.  As I sobbed into Andrew's chest on Thursday, I asked him to tell me that everything is going to be okay.  "I don't know if things are ever going to be okay," he said, "but maybe, hopefully, we will find rest."  I just want that to be true.