Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

I'd like to preface this post by saying
1. Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes popped into my head, but I didn't recognize it, so I had to Google it.
2. I am not a David Bowie fan, but apparently I've heard this song in my upbringing. Thanks Mom and Dad. I'm guessing you guys are the ones who exposed me...even though I didn't realize it.
3. This post isn't about this stupid song.

Now that that's out of the way...onto the real deal.
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The hubs and I have known each other for almost four years and have been married almost three years. This thought astounds me, because I feel like I just met him yesterday. (In a good way!) Three years sounds like an awfully long time to me, but to think that three years has passed seems impossible. I didn't walk down the aisle and become a Bailey three years ago! That's crazy! I only just said, "I do" yesterday...right? How in the world did three years pass without me knowing it? Odd.

However, when I really start to think about it, three years must have passed. All of those moments when an hour felt like a lifetime and a month felt like an eternity. Those moments where I wondered if I would get my period or if I would get a positive sign on one of the countless pregnancy tests I took. Those agonizing minutes to see the test results felt like three years instead of three minutes. Then to see the negative yet again, making time stand still, just briefly, while greif consumed my heart, body, and spirit. All of those weeks and months of Depression while trying to process what was going on with our bodies. Being judged by doctors who didn't want to help us, because I'm not insured. Being told that if we lost weight, things would be easier. Being told that "Maybe God isn't ready for you to be parents, yet." Being told by an aunt, in front of a lot of family members, that she shouldn't have to help pay for my pregnancy with her tax dollars if by some miracle, I finally were to get pregnant. Having my sister go toe to toe with said aunt while I bawled in my grandma's guest room and called my mom who fumed with anger about the whole situation. Then having an extended family cousin show me love and compassion when I needed it the most. All of this, of course, on one of the hardest days for me (at that time)...my cousin's baby shower day. All of those moments, when added up, feel much longer than three years. They feel like thirty years. They've aged me emotionally. All of those moments that, at the time, felt like they'd never end, changed me.

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Did they change me for the better or did they change me for the worse? I dare say, I don't know. I just know I'm different now than I was before all of this. I sometimes long for the times when I dreamed of being pregnant. I don't dream that dream much anymore. I've accepted the fact that I may never conceive/carry a child. Most days, I'm ok with it, as long as I get my babies through adoption. But some days, when I recall the joy I had over the idea of feeling a baby, MY baby, move inside of me...man...I long for the ability to dream that dream again. I wish my heart wasn't so calloused to the idea of it all. I wish I was that naive, at times. I just wish I could keep dreaming the dream that my heart so desires.

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But I can't. I just can't. I can't, and I won't allow myself to be that naive anymore. It hurts too much when that dream doesn't reach culmination. It doesn't make sense to allow myself the luxury of the dream of being pregnant, because let's face it, it may never happen. Obviously, there's still a possibility that it may happen for us one day, but I can't and don't allow myself to think like that anymore, because right now, it's just not going to happen.

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So...again with the changes. Am I better off for having my "battle scars" or am I worse for the wear? In some ways, I know I am stronger. I've been to Hell and back, emotionally, and I'm still here. I KNOW that my God is going before me to prepare a future for me that will knock my socks off. God has me (us) in the palm of his hand, and I know he has great plans for us. On the other hand, I have buried a portion of my heart. I've buried one of my greatest desires, because it is too painful to let it live freely in the daylight. It's something I only allow myself to ponder in the wee hours of the morning when I can't sleep, because only then, in a half sleep, half dream state, is it safe to dream real dreams.

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The battle scars, fear, and hurt does not define who I am or what I am about. I won't let it. I REFUSE it. It isn't something that is allowed to determine WHO or WHOSE I am. I will not be bitter because of the hand I'm currently playing with!

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I CHOOSE joy. I CHOOSE patience. I CHOOSE love. I CHOOSE to take these past three years and change for the better. I CHOOSE to let God protect my heart, but also keep me vulnerable. I CHOOSE to keep on keeping on and to face adversity hand in hand with my husband, surrounded and protected by our God. Why? Because he's got this, and I trust him to come through for me.

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