Growing perspective

I told Stuart the other night, that at this very point in time, my life feels hard.

I don't know that my life is really that hard. In fact I'm sure that it's not. When compared with the trials of dear friends and family and the devastation in the world, I'm leading the good life.

But still, in my little selfish bubble, it feels like I'm scaling the side of a mountain rather than ambling down the path of life. Everyone can relate, I'm sure.

I have received many kind notes from people who have had nice things to say about my blog. It makes me feel good because Stuart told me my blog was sad and I was feeling a little blog conscious. I told him that life is sometimes sad and I didn't want to sugar coat it. But I promise that I've tried to find silver linings in everything this past month - not just to record on my blog, but just to help me get up in the morning with a smile.

I even thought last night that I felt renewed hope and confidence returning - it was a welcome sensation. It's just over a month from my initial blow of the failed IVF and I have to tell you that while I've been fortunate to never lose anyone very close to me, that's what I imagine it feeling like. It was truly a real loss for me and I couldn't escape some amount of mourning.

I've especially loved your notes because it also brings me comfort to know that my story could help others. That alone makes it feel worth it and perhaps even provides an answer to "why is this happening?" That is such a difficult question. There really is no answer though we search and search and think and contemplate and obsess (okay, is that just me?). But to know that one story can help someone else to take another step forward does give me all the confidence in the world. So thank you for telling me my blog has been helpful in that way.

I have an aunt who has done IVF many many times. She has the most beautiful family and I keep their Christmas card on my fridge because it provides some inspiration.

She wrote me a short e-mail a few weeks ago and I have to admit that I was expecting something different from her note. As one who can truly understand the blow I had just experienced, I expected her to be much more consoling - to indulge my sadness and validate what I had been feeling the past couple of weeks.

It wasn't so much that. It was short and she said this:

"This wait is just helping you get a head start in developing the patience you will need as parents....and believe me you will need A LOT!!"

I was reflecting on that note and her words and why she didn't console my grief more. Then I realized she is on the other side of this trial. She knows things will work out somehow. She can truly say with confidence that everything will be okay and you will have grown from this experience more than you can imagine - and you will be grateful for what it has taught you. That's what it's like on the other side of this. I'll be thankful for the lessons I was taught and I will be able to use them for good. (Thanks Lisa!)

So, even though at this very point in time, I might feel like I am scaling a wall and every day feels a little bit like a challenge - the sun is on my back and somewhere in the future (maybe near future, maybe far, isn't that the rub?) I will reach the peak. I also know that at the top of that peak will be more mountains with more walls to scale and that's okay. But for a few hypothetical minutes, I will just pause and take in the view: see where I've been, the road I've traveled, and how much stronger I am as a result.

It will be worth it. Just keep smiling.

In other news...this is what it looks like after you've painted your ceiling. New fashion perhaps?

The remodeling continues - carpet is gone, subfloor about to go down, painting begun.

And lest you forget the type of life we lead here in the Maxfield house, while we don't currently have furniture, we have instruments. What else matters?