The Journey

I don't know why I was reminded of this yesterday while at work of all places. But I was and figured maybe I thought about it because I was meant to write about it and share it with someone out there who needs to hear it. Who knows, it could just be the hormones talking!

So when Andre and I were going through treatments I all but stopped going to church. I couldn't do it. Couldn't handle seeing all the families. All the new babies. All the families that were blessed, when I thought that somehow God had it out for Andre and I. Going through Infertility is hard. It tests your faith, your marriage, the very core of everything you thought you ever wanted out of life. Needless to say church was too hard. For some during the hard times they are drawn to church, for me, I feel pushed away.

Since finding out we were blessed with this incredible miracle, (Yes, even though we used modern technology to get pregnant, it makes it no less of a miracle for happening.) we have slowly started going back to church. Some days are really easy, others a little harder.

In our church the ministers usually take the whole month of July off for vacation. We went a few times in July, then we went back again the first Sunday the ministerial team (a husband and wife) were back from vacation. I honestly believe that I was meant to be in church that day, to hear the children's story of all things. That Sunday there was not one child in the place. Go figure, they didn't want to be sweating in church! The minister still did the children's story. He said it was for "the big kids".

Him and his wife had gone to Southampton that year to go cottaging. He showed a picture on the big screen of his wife standing near a beach fence with an expanse of sand and water behind her. He talked about how the sand was so hot that year. How when you walked over the sand to get to the water you kind of bounced from foot to burning foot, kind of howling. All the while getting closer and closer to the nice, cool water. He talked about that journey to the water. How painful and long it seemed in that moment, but how once you got to the water, it didn't seem to matter. In fact, once you got there you would totally do it again in a second. In the end, it didn't matter how hard and painful the journey was, it was always worth it in the end.

The tears started. I couldn't help it. Hell, now that I'm typing it out the tears are coming again! I couldn't help but think of every failed cycle. Every follie check when the tech would tell me how none of my follies were growing. I thought of every needle during that last cycle, along with all those follie checks at the beginning when nothing was happening but I was told to keep going.

Then I thought of the day when we finally had one little follie. It was freaking amazing. I then thought about that morning when I saw those fainter than faint lines, then the next morning when I saw those words that I had been dying to see.

In the end yes, our journey was hard. I know that there are some out there that have gone, and are going through worse. But don't lose faith, even though it is so easy to lose faith. Yes the journey is hard, but the end, the end is worth it.