Time Flies...

1 and 1/2 years.
18 months.
78.26 weeks.
589 days.
13,149 hours.
788,940 minutes.
47,336,400 seconds.

That's how long we've been trying to have a baby.
How long we've been waiting to have a baby.
How long we've been praying for a baby.

I remember when we decided it was finally "time" to have a baby, and I laugh at that now, like it was just going to happen because we decided, and it was actually up to us somehow.

I remember how happy I was. How happy we were.

I remember how hopeful I was, how I just knew it was going to happen and 9 months after we decided that we were going to try we'd have that baby in our arms, and it would be how it was supposed to be, because that's just the way it worked.

I remember talking about what we would name the baby when it was born and about what we would call the baby until the day it was born. Jake said if anyone asked we'd just tell them it was "Bob" (Baby Of Bodens), and since we were not planning on finding out the sex of the baby until it was born how that would be hilarious and funny and we'd joke and laugh about it.

I remember having dreams about the baby, about how life would be once the baby came and we'd be a family. We'd plan outings and make memories and take lots and lots of photos, I always said this baby would have no shortage of photos of it because I have a camera permanently attached to my hand at all times. Jake was relieved, because he was ready for me to practice on someone else besides him.

I remember how a few months passed and still no baby. I wasn't worried because I knew it was normal for it to take that long to get pregnant, and I just knew it would happen eventually.

I remember how 1 year passed and I still wasn't pregnant. That was a sad day for me. 1 year of trying to have a baby and still no baby. Meanwhile everywhere I looked friends, family, people I didn't even know were pregnant and having babies. It seemed like everywhere I looked there was a pregnant lady, couples out walking together and pushing strollers. Everyone was having babies, but we were still waiting, the hope was beginning to fade.

I remember announcement after announcement on Facebook and wondering when it was finally going to be my turn to make that announcement. Jake reassured me and said "I would have my turn soon." Always reassuring me. I remember how I longed for it to be "my turn" and month after month the stick would show one line no matter how much I hoped and prayed for that second line to appear, and I would cry and yell and cry some more, and mourn the baby that never was. Jake would let me cry and he would hold me and try to understand, and we'd try to understand together, but it would never make any sense, we never understood "why them, and not us", because when you want something like that so much and that's a huge desire of your heart, it doesn't make sense, and you don't understand, because there is no understanding in that broken place.

I remember holidays. Ugh, holidays. How well meaning people would ask "when?" and I would hold back the tears and have nothing eloquent or lovely to say and what I really wanted to say I couldn't say out loud because they just wouldn't understand and it would be awkward and I would cry and I didn't want to cry about it anymore, and having to sit through it all and not really feeling like anybody understood why I felt the way I did.

I remember walking away when people were walking towards me to talk to me because I didn't even want to chance the possibility that they would ask me questions about it all and I would break down and they wouldn't know what to do.

I remember feeling broken, less-than, like a failure, this shouldn't be this hard! "Maybe we're not supposed to have a baby...," "We don't deserve a baby." "Maybe if we hadn't of done (fill in the blank) or we did (fill in the blank) better......if we prayed more, or trusted God more, or cried less, or didn't want it so much, or just relaxed....maybe then I would get pregnant."

I remember becoming bitter, resentful, hateful, ugly and just plain angry about trying to have a baby. Jake and I were fighting more and more, and I was crying all the time. Marriage became even harder, because it's not hard enough some days, right? We started ignoring each other and spending less time doing things together, we would get mad at each other, and not even remember why, or what we were fighting about. We were having conversations that I never thought we'd ever have to have about "what's next?" "what do we do if we can't have a baby" and I would cry some more.

I remember thinking "this isn't how it's supposed to be." But it was and we didn't know how to change it, or what to do next, or differently.

I remember falling on my face and praying, crying out to God and screaming and yelling at Him and just thinking that He must not be listening to all the prayers going up on our behalf, because if He was we'd have that baby. I specifically remember reminding God that I was not a patient person and so if He was trying to teach me a lesson in waiting and patience that I had gotten the point, and He could send that baby our way any time now. I told him how tired and worn I was, how my heart hurt so much that I felt like it would explode from the pain, from the not understanding why.

I remember just last week I threw my hands up in the air and told Jake and I told God that I was giving up. I quit. I don't want this baby that I've been wanting for so long anymore. I told Him that it hurt too much and that I didn't want to hurt that much anymore and that it wasn't worth it. I told him that He could just keep giving all those babies to all the people who didn't love them that have been all over the news lately for hurting and killing their own children because obviously I wasn't crazy enough for Him to give me a baby, so He should just keep on doing what He's doing.

I'm sure He appreciated that.

I'm sure He heard me.

I am sure He still has His own plan.

I am sure that He knows what's best for my life.

I am sure that He's already been where I am going and He knows how the story ends.

I am sure that I don't understand it at all......and that's probably okay.

I am sure He still loves me.

I am sure that I say all of those things everyday, that I have to remind myself of those things daily even if the words seem hollow, because if I don't, I might not make it through the day without breaking down.

1 and 1/2 years.
18 months.
78.26 weeks.
589 days.
13,149 hours.
788,940 minutes.
47,336,400 seconds.

And counting............