"...therefore I will wait for Him."

When we were given the prescription for metformin, it was basically explained that long gone were the days of 40+ day cycles. For me, this was the hugest weight off my shoulders. I thought, "Finally, the torture of 'am I pregnant or is this just another long cycle' will be over". Sure enough, I started taking it and like clock-work my body shifted right into 30 cycles.

This month, I kind of lost track of the days and when I calculated up, sure enough I was a day or so late. I told Curtis and with hopeful anticipation we both agreed this was super exciting. Yet, because we'd known long cycles before we agreed we'd wait it out a bit longer -- to save ourselves the disappointment.

Today, I was officially 10 days late. A sure, true-blue, factual sign for most of the population that you're pregnant. Could it be true? Over these last 10 days, I even allowed myself to dream of finally being pregnant, how we'd tell everyone, how this would be the best birthday gift ever! I even thought how the joy would so overshadow the pain in the waiting.

This morning at 6 a.m., no less, I anxiously got up and took a test. Negative.

Curtis was preparing for a long, busy work day and I was hoping he would forget about the plan to test. So, I crawled back in bed and tried to hurry back to sleep, lying to myself that I wasn't upset -- after all, this wasn't a first. He came over and gently kissed me to tell me good-bye and said, "Bye boo...I love you. Did you take a test?" "Yeah. Negative." "Really?" "Yeah. Sorry." His face was so disappointed and expressed to the fullest how I felt inside. I couldn't help but cry. "Don't worry hon," he said. "We'll get 'em next time." I have the best husband. Such an encourager when I know he's upset too.

Later in the day, the test results were confirmed.

Here's the thing. I can handle not being pregnant, but being late when I'm not supposed to be forces you to higher and higher hopes. The kind of hopes that are the makings of girlish squeals or the ugly cry. Nothing in between.

I'm going to steal from my friend Becca's blog because it perfectly illustrates hope. Becca, too, experienced infertility for 2.5 years and has been such a champion for me. She now has a beautiful miracle, Grant. But read her post from January of '08.

I hate hope. It's a thorn in my side. I feel like such a fool for letting myself hope every month. I know better, I always tell myself, but I do it again anyway. Hope is both a blessing and a curse. As various signs started popping up, I got to live in this euphoric land of what it must feel like for others who get pregnant easily at anticipating a potential pregnancy. For just a couple of days, I indulged in THAT world of joyful anticipation and what ifs and when I'd be due -- a rare guilty pleasure I usually don't dare allow myself to even take a bite of. But for two days, I let my hopes run wild. And it felt good to live in that world for just a little while. Despite knowing the downfall would be harder if I let myself go there, I just plain hoped. I hoped like I'd been trying three months and infertility wasn't part of my vocabulary. I hoped like I'd never been to a fertility doctor. Like I'd never taken a fertility drug. Like my heart had never been broken.

Today, has been hard -- for both of us. I called Curtis on the way to work and sobbed. Hard. I was actually on time to work, but late sitting in the parking lot trying to pull it together. We both honestly thought this was the month. Curtis said, "I don't know what's going on honey, but I do know God is testing us and we have to keep the faith." How do they do that? My friend Ashly talks about how her husband says things like this too. Don't they ever doubt?

I've been claiming two verses today. Almost demanding to God...like a five year old..."but You said..."

"And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us." Romans 5:5

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." Galatians 6:9

I found myself saying today over and over, "I'm not disappointed God. I'm devastated. Okay, I'm not pregnant but why 10 days? I'm trying my very hardest to remain hopeful, to be strong, persevere, remain positive, trust, believe, endure -- but weary is right around the corner, standing next to giving up. I feel a day away from throwing in the towel on this. If I'll never see our babies, then just tell me. I've asked and now I'm begging. Show me what I'm supposed to be doing. What's the plan here?"

I'll leave you with this poem below. For those of you praying for living babies, you'll love it!

There are women that become mothers without effort, without thought, without patience or loss and though they are good mothers and love their children, I know that I will be better.

I will be better not because of genetics, or money or that I have read more books but because I have struggled and toiled for this child.
I have longed and waited.
I have cried and prayed.
I have endured and planned over and over again.

Like most things in life, the people who truly have appreciation are those who have struggled to attain their dreams.
I will notice everything about my child.
I will take time to watch my child sleep, explore and discover.
I will marvel at this miracle every day for the rest of my life.

I will be happy when I wake in the middle of the night to the sound of my child, knowing that I can comfort, hold and feed him and that I am not waking to take another temperature, pop another pill, take another shot or cry tears of a broken dream. My dream will be crying for me. (I love that! My dream will be crying for me...)

I count myself lucky in this sense; that God has given me this insight, this special vision with which I will look upon my child that my friends will not see.

Whether I parent a child I actually give birth to or a child that God leads me to, I will not be careless with my love.

I will be a better mother for all that I have endured. I am a better wife, a better aunt, a better daughter, neighbor, friend and sister because I have known pain.

I know disillusionment as I have been betrayed by my own body. I have been tried by fire and hell many never face, yet given time, I stood tall.

I have prevailed.
I have succeeded.
I have won.

So now, when others hurt around me, I do not run from their pain in order to save myself discomfort. I see it, mourn it, and join them in theirs.

I listen.

And even though I cannot make it better, I can make it less lonely. I have learned the immense power of another hand holding tight to mine, of other eyes that moisten as they learn to accept the harsh truth and when life is beyond hard. I have learned a compassion that only comes with walking in those shoes.

I have learned to appreciate life.

Yes I will be a wonderful mother.

~Author Unknown

"Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for His compassion never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for Him.'" Lam. 3:22-24

Praise God it's tomorrow.