Broken Dreams...

I know there are quite a number of people who read this blog that have some experience with infertility. On the flip side, there are probably just as many readers who have not. So there are some readers who see yesterdays news as a disappointment, and don't fully grasp the grief I have right now. It truly is grief. I have been cycling through phases of it since the phone call yesterday. From anger to denial. This wasn't just a disappointment. It was the death of a dream for yet another month. While I know it isn't true, I feel so broken and useless. I can't do what seems to be a God-given right for women. "Be fruitful and multiply..." just doesn't work for me.

Mark and I went out to dinner last night, and I brought up many of the options we have to go from here. I would love your prayers for direction. There are so many doors. I don't know where to go!

With this, I will leave you with a poem that has come to mean a great deal to me. Looks like I need to soak this in a bit more and live it.

Broken Dreams

As children bring their broken toys
With tears for us to mend,
I brought my broken dreams to God
Because He was my Friend.

But then instead of leaving Him
In peace to work alone,
I hung around and tried to help
With ways that were my own.

At last I snatched them back and cried,
"How can you be so slow"--
"My child," He said, "what could I do?
You never did let go."

-Author Unknown