I had finally said it. I had finally verbally admitted to my husband what had been gnawing at me all morning.
It was the start of a brand new day. It was the start of a cycle -- another cycle -- that I didn't want to see coming. I was fine. I was really fine. I had dealt with this for the previous months since our miscarriage. And yet, something was eating away at me. I didn't want to be mad. I didn't want to be sad.
I just needed to know one thing.
I shook as I uttered the words: "Why would God give babies to people who don't wan them and not give babies to people who do?
These are the words that haunt me. Month after month of hoping for another chance, another pregnancy. I finally had admitted out loud my frustrations. It may sound faithless. I have come to terms with it being brave.
Faith is not blind. It is not walking about without a care in the world. But it is clinging, ever-so dependent on the One to whom your faith rests. And for me, I cling to the One, True God. And while I don't have a single scientific answer to my original posed question. I do have a deeper spiritual answer. I will settle on the words of the prophet Isaiah: " 'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord" (Is. 55:8, NIV).
Our own conceived notions of how things should happen and then such things not happening are a continuation of God's attempt to pry our nimble fingers away from any semblance of control and move us to cling to Him. That's pretty wordy, but it's oh, so true.
And while I don't have all the answers as we walk this road of infertility together, my husband and I are forever bent on trusting our God. We will wait forever, until He closes the door otherwise.
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