For nearly ten years, it's been me and you. We've grown up from those kids that got married at such a young age and tried to figure out life the best we know how. What we want and what we want to run from, who we want to be at the end of the day, and what our next chapter holds. Life threw a few really hard things at us from the very beginning and with each struggle, we got stronger. We've learned how to take on the world together - we never sweat the small stuff and we appreciate the hell out of the good days. No matter what comes our way, we just simply keep going. You taught me that. For ten years now - you've been my everything. My best friend, the one I run to, my soulmate, and I wouldn't trade one second of our life together.
In the same month I turned 30, it also marked a little over a year since we've been trying to have a baby. For years, we've watched our friends + family celebrate this new chapter of life. We've been present for the big announcements, hosted countless baby showers, ran out to grab pregnancy tests for them in a panic, ordered cakes for the gender reveals, given shots during IVF treatments, cried with them as they've struggled and cried with them as they've celebrated. We've been Uncle J + Auntie Meg for years while we continued to pour into our home, travel the world, and have Tuesday night date nights. We've had so much fun, just me and you, and I love that time we've had together + the memories we've made so much. I think because we waited all those years to start a family, we thought it would happen in an instant. We did everything right. We thoughtfully prayed for a peace about this big decision and for the first time in nearly nine years, we felt ready. Ready for our big announcement, our positive pregnancy test, and our family to grow. In May of 2018 - we hoped our lives were about to change.
Every day since that day, we've held on to our little secret in hopes to one day have the 'big moment' with our loved ones that we've witnessed so many times. We've continued to celebrate life together and with our family + friends without batting an eye, however, you and I are struggling so much on the inside. We've held back tears as we're asked time and time again why we don't have children yet. You've talked me down from a full panic attack before opening our home for a baby shower. We've welcomed babies into the world while catching each others eyes across the hospital room. We've checked off every holiday from Mother's Day to Christmas and as time continues to pass, constantly wonder why this isn't happening for us. We started to realize that just because we carry it well, doesn't mean it's not heavy.
Sometimes I laugh at the thought of thinking this would be easy for us. Nothing ever has. However, what I do know is that all of those things life threw at us from the very beginning, taught us invaluable lessons. They made us who we are and probably in some way, prepared us for this very moment. Through family issues, health scares, and just really hard days, I don't think we've ever prayed harder for something. In a perfect world, you'd already be a dad right now. You'd be celebrating your first Father's Day and you would be great at it. I can only imagine that our baby's first laugh will be because of you. I hope she has your nose or he has your sense of humor. I hope they love being outside, running around with our pups + chicks, and enjoy the little things, like you do. I hope they learn to serve people the way their dad does and love Jesus like you do. Most of all, I pray I can give you the most precious gift we'll ever have and make you the dad you're meant to be.
Until then, we'll keep praying. Keep trying. Keep waiting for God's perfect timing. We've had ten amazing years and a few hard days - I can't wait to see what the next ten hold. I love you with my whole heart, forever.
-Meg
This will inevitably be the hardest blog post I've written to date. As I'm sitting on the front porch about to hit 'publish' on this blog post, all I feel is my heartbeat. Waking up on Father's Day earlier this Summer, both eager for this day to finally mean something different for us, I gave J this handwritten letter and a onesie for our barely-there baby box. Since that day, I have prayed endlessly about this post. Questioned whether to not it was the right thing to share, and even more so, prayed that I wouldn't have to share it.
As J put his coffee down and with tears strolling down his cheeks, he looked up at me and said "you have to share this". My heart immediately dropped to the floor because I wasn't ready. I still don't know if I am. We've held this so close to us and at such a distance from everyone else, how could we be that vulnerable?
There has never been a time where J hasn't thrusted me forward. He trusts my intuition, but knows that I hold onto pain. All this time, I've had no intention of sharing our struggle to get pregnant because I constantly compare our journey to other's. So many people, both friends and strangers, have struggled harder and for longer. I've watched it. But, what I've grown to realize - pain is pain and comparison has no place in this season of life. The last 18 months have been full of highs and lows - we've been silent, tried to be distracted, we've been excited, prayed without ceasing, and more than anything - hopeful. Currently, we're defeated. Exhausted and broken.
After 8 months of trying to have a baby, it was important to us that we were both checked for anything that may be hindering the process. After a few tests, an ultrasound, and blood work, we were thankful to be in the clear, and told to keep trying. From day one to now, we've tried to take courage in understanding that it simply isn't our time. After 16 months of trying, we decided to seek out a fertility doctor that would hopefully be able to give us more answers. J and I both felt burned out and we simply needed someone on our team, coaching us through this. After more tests and ultrasounds, thankfully, he came to the same conclusion - there's no obvious reason this shouldn't be happening for us. Probably the best, yet most frustrating answer. His recommendation was to start with three rounds of ovulation medication before moving on to a different conversation. We're currently on round 2 of those 3.
So many people told us that this process would bring us closer, and we laughed at them. We didn't think that was even possible. What we've come to realize is that we've never understood and loved each other's hearts like we do now. 18 months of negative pregnancy tests and disappoitment has felt crushing. It's hard to feel like you're not broken, hard to celebrate others at times, hard to fake it when you're having a bad day, and sometimes, hard to understand + accept God's plans are greater than ours. However, going through it together has cultivated a new love within us that we didn't even know was missing - and for that, we're so grateful.
So here we are. It's our 10 year anniversary today and although we saw this day looking a bit different a year and a half ago, we know we're right where we're supposed to be. We have the most amazing family + friends surrounding us, holding us up in prayer, and picking us up on the days we need it most. We'll celebrate with all of them tomorrow night, toast to 10 years of absolute bliss, and keeping praying baby Runion into the world, together.
At the end of the day, I want this community we've cultivated over the last seven years to get all of us. The good, the bad, and the ugly - the things we celebrate and the heartbreak we feel. I've written post after post promising to go deeper - so here it is.
We carry it well, but it's heavy.
Thank you all for going through life with us and loving us. We're so thankful for each and every one of you reading this and can't wait for what the next season holds and to celebrate it with you. For now - cheers to 10 years, seven of which you all have been along for the ride and we wouldn't have it any other way. We love you.
-J and Meg
