Jesus wept. {John 11:35}

Most days are better than others.  Most days I get through all the crap and look to Heavenly Father and say, "Alright, if this is the way you want it, then I'm okay with that."  But then there are some days when I just want to cry and kick and scream and shout how it's just not fair.  I've accepted whatever it is that's wrong with me about 90% of the time.  My happiness and overall understanding of not being able to have children is pretty solid.  Lately; however, it's changed.  And I know what it is.  It's the same voice that throws doubt and discouraging attitudes towards me. 

Tuesday morning I went in for another ultrasound to check on the cysts  that were hoping would shrink on their own.  I guess it shouldn't come as a shock when we found out that some had grown.  One is now 8cm in diameter.  For anyone that doesn't have a ruler handy like I happen to, that's the size of a pack of Trident gum {yes, I measured}.  Just under 3 inches.  I have to come in for another ultrasound in two weeks {just before we leave for Ireland, btw} and if there isn't any progress, they may have to remove them surgically. Fantastic.

While I was there, I asked my nurse about my HSG results {the horrid x-ray I had a couple weeks ago}.  She was surprised the doctor didn't talk to me about them then.  She said she'd speak to my FS and call me to schedule a time to meet with him.  She called yesterday. He wants me to come in.  I told her that's never a good sign.  They usually give an all clear over the phone, but they don't tell you there are impending problems unless you're in the office.  Naturally, they want you to pay before they deliver any disappointing news.  The next time I can meet with him is the morning of the 7th.  We fly out that night.  Basically, I'm gearing myself up for really bad news just before hopping on a plane.  She said that it looks like there is a lot of fluid build up and I may have to have surgery to remove it.  Wonderful.

I posted a status on Facebook trying to be a bit comical, but in that irreverent way that I am.  Some people are blessed with healthy reproductive organs.  And some are not.  I'm pretty sure mine looks like a mine field.  It pretty accurately describes what I'm feeling at the moment.  I didn't expect the amazing out pouring of love that I received from my friends.  It really got me thinking about how I have tried to be positive and upbeat through all of this, but in the end, I just kept always keep a brave face.  I've only really cried once.  In all honesty though, there's nothing better than a good cry.  And that's what I did this morning.  While walking at 4:30 am with Jolie in tow, I just let it out.  And it felt so good.  I cried and prayed and just when I thought I'd keep crying, it's like I was hit with a warmth that just hugged my heart and there was nothing to cry about.  That feeling that I am so used to was present saying I know.  I know He knows my struggles and my pain.  And I know that He has what I need to get through this.  Sometimes letting it all out helps as well.  After all, Jesus wept, too.

Image by Scott Sumner.

“Be assured that there is a safe harbor. You can find peace amidst the storms that threaten you. Your Heavenly Father—who knows when even a sparrow falls—knows of your heartache and suffering. He loves you and wants the best for you. Never doubt this. While He allows all of us to make choices that may not always be for our own or even others’ well-being, and while He does not always intervene in the course of events, He has promised the faithful peace even in their trials and tribulations.”

—Joseph B. Wirthlin, “Finding a Safe Harbor,” Ensign, May 2000, 59

Quote found here.