Spring Will Come

This past week has been my Spring Break, and it has been lovely.  Without going away on a big trip, I was able to make new and beautiful memories, relax, distract myself from grief, and even laugh a little.

I went to Starved Rock with my mom and sister for a girls getaway.  We hiked, jogged, slept, had massages, and enjoyed each other.  Jeremiah and I went to the Art Institute to see some of Matt's favorite paintings in the new modern wing.  We had drinks at the Palmer House afterwards.  We went antiquing, out for great dinners, for a long bike ride past my childhood home (and I held it together), and got into a new show.  I had dinner in the city at RPM, where I have been wanting to go for so long, with two of my best girls.  We talked about frivolous, fun, and easy things for two hours and I felt like my old self, for that short amount of time.  Matt's school, the Dayton Flyers, miraculously made it to the Elite 8.  There was something so sweet in thinking that he was cheering them on from heaven.  Jer and I saw my sister play principal clarinet for Rockford Symphony, and the evening featured songs from Oscar-nominated movies.  It was wonderful.  I started listening to music again on my runs.  Today, I even made it through a Dave and a Michael Jackson song.  Dave and MJ were two of Matt's most favorite artists.  This spring break was exactly what the doctor ordered...

However my actual doctor, my fertility specialist, has ordered something that has my mind battling fear, my soul feeling uneasy, and my heart grasping for hope.  On Monday, I heard some frightening words.

"Premature ovarian failure"
"Diminished ovarian reserve"
"Your age is what you have going for you.  If you were older, we would recommend an egg donor."
"Typically I don't like to give my patients twins, but in your case it would be best.  We might not be able to do this again in a few years." 
"The quality of your eggs could be poor.  That might be why they are not implanting."  

IVF, or in vitro fertilization is the new strategy, or treatment that our doctor has told us is going to be the next step.  I feel afraid, to be completely honest.  I'm afraid of new and higher dosages of medicines.  I'm afraid of disappointment.  I'm afraid that I won't ever be able to feel the wonder of pregnancy.  I fear that joy, real joy, won't return to our lives.

However, I know that I can't live in fear.  I couldn't live in fear of Matt's addiction.  I obsessed for eight months, and that obsessing helped neither him nor I.  Now he is gone, and the worry did nothing.  The only thing I could do to help Matt was to love him.  There is a lesson for me in the loss of my brother.  Worry and fear simply do not help our situations.  Worry and fear cause us to live the pain before it actually happens, to live it twice.  God does not want us to live in fear.

One of the most well known bible verses is from Psalms.  Verse 23:4 says:

"Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me."

Instead of living in worry and fear, I must use every ounce of my mental energy, all of my reserves, to instead live in hope.

Hope comes to us in small ways, little answered prayers, signs from God...my Christmas ornament that says "hope" still hanging on our desk, cardinals at my bird feeder, a peaceful dream about my brother, job interviews for Jer, a girlfriend telling me she dreamt I was pregnant, a blessed and happy week off, Easter, and Spring.  

Spring will come.  With this new a beautiful season, I pray that we will continue to find more joy, renewed hope, peace in trusting God beyond our own understanding, and that fear will fade.  As the sun's rays warm our faces and brighten our world, and the dark days of winter are in the past, fear will no longer be welcome in our home, our days, and our lives.