This morning, when I awoke, I opened up the bedroom door to see Molly and Sammy basking in the sun's slanted rays. Drew had gotten up early to go grocery shopping before Meijer got busy, and I decided to open up the shades in our darkened bedroom to let in the light while I watched "Meet the Press" (something about actually being interested in watching a show like this, or being an NPR junkie during my morning commute, or finally understanding the humor of the sitcom M.A.S.H. makes me feel very adult, I think to myself) and drank a cup of coffee. What surprised me is that when I opened the shades, I was startled to see so much snow on the ground. It's late February, sure. We had snow on the ground yesterday, sure. We probably have a good 4-6 weeks of winter left around these parts, sure. So, why the surprise?

For some reason, this year's winter has not seemed as bleak and depressing as the past couple of winter seasons. I think we have gotten a little more sunshine than is typical for us, sure, but it is more than that. I think that, in my mind, I have already entered my own "spring" of sorts. With the flipping of the calendar page from 2007--and that dreaded two-year anniversary, bittersweet in its happy celebration of our wedding day, yet saddening in its reminder of two years of trying to start a family without success, now behind us--I have felt as though we are starting fresh, entering a new season in our "trying to conceive" journey. This past week's surgery has also provided me with a lot of hope. A big obstacle has been removed (literally). Everything else looks normal. Even more than that, I have been succeeding more than ever in not letting the negative feelings overtake me. Sure, I still cry and feel sorry for myself, oh, about once a day. But, considering the circumstances (that I am continuously surrounded by co-workers, friends, and family members who are either pregnant or raising infants), I'm starting to gently remind myself that is okay. It is okay to be sad. It is okay to see the babies and be wistful for my own, or think about the precious one we lost last year. What isn't okay is to let that sadness morph into anger, jealousy, and bitterness. Of course, this happens. Of course it does. I am a flawed person, and for sure, I feel that whole range of emotions from time to time. But I think the difference is that I'm learning how to better manage my feelings, to channel them in the right direction.

I think, now more than ever, I need to focus on what is possible instead of what could go wrong, what could not happen. I guess, what I'm saying in a very non-direct, rambling way, is that I'm trying to have faith. Faith is not something I'm entirely comfortable with, I'm realizing. I've written before about how, in order to accomplish something or overcome an obstacle in the past, I've usually just needed to focus on it, and work hard, until I got where I wanted to go. I believe in the power of hard work. I do. But I'm also realizing it is just not enough in this life. I cannot control this life. I cannot plan where it is going to take me, though Lord knows I've tried over and over. There is simply nothing left to do but let go. I cannot do this myself. I cannot fix this on my own. This whole process is bigger than me, and more and more it is becoming clear to me that perhaps I was hand-picked to endure this particular hardship for a reason. Perhaps I'm supposed to be a comfort to someone else who is experiencing the same thing. Perhaps my ego needed to be knocked down a few notches (i.e., "See? You can't get an A+ in baby-making, now can ya? You cannot win or succeed at everything, no matter how hard you try...life will not be handed to you on a silver platter...milestones checked off your exhaustive list in the order you so meticulously planned. You are not the boss, applesauce, I am."). I have struggled with faith on and off for quite a few years now. Perhaps going through my divorce, and now struggling with infertility, is "someone's" way of saying, "Hey, you! Yes, YOU! I've been trying to get your attention, but you just keep ignoring me.What is it going to take for you trust me and relax? I have a plan."

Of course, I don't know this for sure. No one knows for sure why her life takes a certain turn, though it often becomes more clear after-the-fact. All I know right now is that, during these trials, I have turned to the comfort of prayer. I feel that there is someone up there listening to me, and I feel the strength to carry on a little longer...now, just a little longer...okay, just a little longer...welling up inside me.

Having faith and hope, through prayer, is the only thing that makes sense to me right now. And I am feeling that, perhaps, this is where I needed to end up in order to come to that determination.

-Em