"By this time next year..."

As the past year comes to an end and a new one begins, it’s only natural to look back on the past few months and reflect on everything that has changed, or for us, what has stayed the same. For me, looking back on not only 2018, but also the years that have come before it, it is easy not to live in the emotions of what I still do not have. And although you may not be struggling with infertility, to some degree, you can probably relate to the sensation. I call it living in the land of “by this time next year.”

By this time next year…

• I will be in a relationship or engaged or married…

• I will have a new job or a new car or a new house…

• I will improve my grades or get all A’s or at least try harder at school…

• I will have a better relationship with Christ or pray more or be more positive...

• I will have a child or at least be pregnant or at least not lose a child…

Can I just be honest and tell you how hard it is to not set up camp and build a city in this place. For some reason, this year has been particularly difficult in dealing with these emotions. I think it hit me the hardest when Matthew and I took our annual Christmas trip to Savannah. As some of you know, we did our first transfer with our adopted embryos in November of this year. And although the transfer went extremely well, and we got a positive pregnancy test, we had a miscarriage a few weeks later. This makes number 3 for us.

As we were walking through Savannah and thinking back on our 2017 trip the year before, my thoughts wandered to how I felt at this time last year, about one week after we had our first miscarriage in November. We both said that we knew we could get through anything the next year had to throw at us because surely by this time next year we would be shopping for baby clothes and talking about decorating a nursery.

And now here we were again, in 2018, thinking the same thoughts. When I get consumed by this place of fear, I can feel the anger and frustration boiling to the surface. How many more times do we have to repeat that phrase before it gets old? How many more times do we have to feel like we are quickly flipping through pages of a book, searching for the ending, only to find more words, more chapters.

I think the New Year looming brings these apprehensions to the forefront. It can sometimes feel like the past year has been another stepping stone. “I may not have met my goals last year, but I have a fresh start this year. It will happen this time.”

Can I ask a hard question? How would you feel if things don’t happen? What if you still aren’t where you thought you would be after a year’s time?

I’m going to answer my own question…for me at least, it feels like being left behind. It feels like the world has moved on without you and you are still stuck in the same place. Similar to one of those dreams where you are running away from something or towards something, but your feet feel like concrete blocks. The people around you have achieved what they set before them. They have bought new houses, gotten new jobs, are dating new people, had their first child, had their second child, and you are still sitting in the same place of insecurity and loss.

And one of the hardest parts about it is, even when you have tried to meet those goals and have continually failed, you still have a decision to make:

• You can choose to dwell in this place of hopelessness and grief, letting the past year and the year to come be tainted by all the things you do not have.

• You can choose to push aside the thing that you heart desires…a significant other, a new position, a better grade…and attempt to refocus on a new goal, in hopes that you will forget the old one.

• Or you can embrace what you have been given, but also what you have not, and choose to value both, with an understanding that God does not get left behind in our past. He does not wait for us only in our future when we get our lives together. But He continually meets us where we are.

I choose the third option. I choose to not let my heart and mind be consumed by doubt and anxiety. I choose to not push away what I hope for to in an attempt to guard myself from disappointment. Instead, I have decided this year to choose faith, to choose hope, and to choose surrender. I have faith in what I cannot see, knowing that Christ goes before me (Hebrews 11:1). I have hope in what God has promised to me, knowing that He wants to prosper me and not to harm me (Jeremiah 29:11). And I surrender to imperfection, with the understanding that I get a chance each new morning to embrace my weaknesses with mercy and grace (Lamentations 3:22-23).

So with these things in mind, I set out into a new chapter with rejuvenation and joy, knowing that my year will not be measured by the list of things I do or do not accomplish. But it will instead be measured by the amount of faith I place in Christ, the hope that I have for myself and for those around me, and the daily surrender of my life so that others may come to know my Savior.