all you can see in the pit are the heavens

"If I've learned one thing through infertility it's that none of my experiences are unique. They are shared. They are common. They're so common they'd be boring if they weren't so painful." Jillian Burden (blogger) I love the moments when what I am feeling has already been expressed so well by another and I find/hear their sharing. Jillian is a stranger to me but now after finding her blog it's easy to imagine knowing her. At least 5 years ago she posted her thoughts on her journey & captured how living with infertility feels like living in a pit. Here are some of my thoughts: I've learned there isn't much that contains real substance to say about brokenness alone. I may share the experience of deep sadness (all who have known infertility have felt) that comes with being displaced into a pit. But I've also recovered how good it is to be still on purpose before the Lord. The pit is sadness & redemption. After receiving the official infertility diagnosis I didn't really have much of anything to say because I was just so devastated. And it is not solely about me and my disappointment. There were no words to encompass what I knew and what I thought I knew the news entailed for Tim and I. Infertility is a war, a war of you against the circumstances and conditions that keep you from bringing forth life. The grief of infertility can feel like a series of death—the death of your dreams, your hopes, your life. Your loss is not a one-time event, but a series of experiences over a period in your life. Grieving through your infertile years means coming to terms with any number of losses along the way. In Tim and I’s case month after month of not getting pregnant, failed medical tests, a failed surgery, and the pains that come with the additional steps and time alternate ways of growing your family requires. I believe many people squelch their pain because they think it’s going to overwhelm and destroy their marriage. And many put the grief process on hold because they fear it will destroy their faith. Understandably so many just don’t trust themselves to survive grief. When you feel loss there is really so little to say in the midst of feeling it. It's not fair but what is fair? It's not right but it is happening. It is a nightmare you don't get to ignore. Those moments are a part of this broken world. Everyone sadly faces utter tragedy. Through infertility I am learning how to live in the pit better. I desire to leave this pit better than it found me. There are days to say more feels like you're increasing the hurt. And that talking on the difficult days is nothing more than naming each loss involved. But there is always the other side- the side after you are through with the painful moment/difficult day. It isn’t that I am through dealing with infertility but I made it through that moment of difficulty. That is the other side. The moment after pain can be the fulfillment that the Lord’s ability knows no end, that no matter what I will always be sustained. "Truly, what can a person see from a pit? The sun. Clouds. Sometimes a patch of blue. Tiny stars in the night sky. The heavens. All you can see in the pit are the heavens. Here I am. In the pit. All I can see are the heavens. All I can do is trust that my heavenly view is enough to sustain me for now." Jillian "Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens; Who created these? He brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name. Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing. Why do you complain, Jacob? Why do you say, Israel, "My way is hidden from the LORD; my cause is disregarded by my God"? Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength." Isaiah 40:26-31 This I know I have no grief unseen. He already knows and shares it with me. I am, my soul is, the part of this life I have that decides will I figure out how to not be angry about being here, accept any sadness or sting, embrace that living here for however long could prepare me for what's next that I can't see yet?In the pit I am alone. Don't get me wrong I have the BEST people in my life. And that is not mutually exclusive. I am alone in the pit and I have the most wonderful support system. The pit is where I have been displaced. It is necessary for me to not "hide myself from the horror" (Johnnyswim). This is my story. It is my reality. I must do the heart work. I must live it. And I hope as I do I stay thankful for those who stop and just lay beside the pit to gaze at the heavens with me.