Picking a fight.

I woke up this morning with a crying hangover. Puffy eyes, headache, all sorts of crusty-ness…the whole ten yards.

Rewind to earlier this week…

As more days click by, I’ve been struggling more and more with frustration, anger, and general feelings of being completely out of control. {That’s the worst part for me I think.} Add in a bit of terror rearing it’s ugly head and everything has been building to a meltdown.

We’ve been waiting for over 3 weeks now for the family who is looking at our profile to decide if they are going to move forward or not. They keep asking for more time, but I’m beginning to think that their inability to make a decision is a decision. We are just hanging out in the wind here, at their mercy…and if they can’t get comfortable with the idea of placing their embryos I really wish they would just say no. Then we could get back into matching and start moving forward a bit. {Our agency will only show our profile to one family at a time, so we need to reach a resolution here before we can get back out there into matching.}

That is one half of my struggle…the waiting, the depending on others, the cluelessness as to what they are thinking or why they are taking so long.

The other half is that summer is almost over. Today is the last day of July after all. And I’m mad about it.

This entire infertility, adoption, embryo adoption thing has been one big exercise in acknowledging how little control I have over life. You would think I would have learned that and stopped trying to control it by now, but nope. In my head, I just *KNEW* that we would have matched by now, and I was really hoping that we would be able to complete our FET before school started.

I’ve never had an FET done before, but I know it’s a process that will take several weeks and {for a period of time at least} trips to the fertility doctor {about an hour away} pretty much every other day for a while. Plus the shots, hormones, etc. It just made sense that summer would be the time to do that.

But apparently not.

For the last several days, there have been tears building…a few escaping…and frustration mounting. I’ve been praying less and stewing more. At one point I {semi-jokingly, semi-serious} was yelling at the t.v. over a news story {about a family waiting to bring their newly adopted son home from China} that I-was-trying-to-bring-adopted-embryos-home-to-my-uterus!!! It wasn’t my finest moment. Something had to give.

So last night, I picked a fight with Chris.

It wasn’t a blow-up of epic proportions, but it took us quite a while to work past the stupid thing I picked it over to get to the heart of the issue. And then it took even longer for Chris to figure out what type of response I needed to settle my tears and heart.

But we got there, and in the end I was really impressed with a conclusion he reached about how some things in his past effect how he tries to relate to me sometimes. {Basically, he figured out that he didn’t like when those things were done to him, so why was he trying to react to me in that way?}


Today I took a Tylenol for my head, made a hot tea, and spoke honestly with God about how I’m feeling.

Today I’ll be e-mailing the agency…if the couple looking hasn’t made their decision by today, Chris and I want to move on and have our profile shown to other families.

Today I’ll do my best to stop pouting…summer is winding down after all, and I want to enjoy every last second of it.

Today I will surrender control, and I’ll have to do it again tomorrow. And the day after. And on and on and on. I’ve got to stop picking it up.

I’ve got to stop picking it up.

I’ve got to stop picking it up.

Blessed am I, even when I keep having to learn the same lesson the hard way.


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