I can't remember the last time I blogged on a Saturday. In fact, maybe I never have. There's a first time for everything right?
I'm currently sitting in bed with my laptop and dogs, taking a break from writing a paper on the difference between the mind and the brain (oh, thrilling philosophy class). I'm debating whether or not I will work out today, because after a week of avoiding the sickness Eric had, I think I might have caught some of it. This makes me very unhappy, because I have a 6 mile run scheduled this weekend for my half marathon training. Blah.
I realized I haven't blogged in a while. If I were ordering excuses I would ask for "the usual" -- school, work, and no inspiration. But now I think it's time for a little update on the pregnancy, or more like non-pregnancy, situation. I try to only touch on this subject occasionally because I keep my life full of other distractions and ambitions. But maybe someone has been wondering, so here's the latest.
Lately I've been thinking a lot about whether or not I'm allowed to have hope. Can or should I verbalize that I'm holding onto hope that our baby will someday find its way into our world? It may seem like a silly question. Instinctively friends say, of course you should have hope. There is always hope, and if you let go of it you will fall into despair. But really, have you thought about how painful it is to have hope only to get continually disappointed, gather your wits and bolster up another dose of hope for another month? Eighteen times? Maybe an infinite number of times?
When you see it from my perspective, it seems almost easier to be resigned, to just not have anything - to be ambivalent and void. This certainly ensures you won't be disappointed. But I'm beginning to dig a little deeper, to scratch off the scab, and ask myself harder questions. Slowly I do this - because I know myself, and if I push myself too much I will shut down. I'm funny the way I'm like my own psychologist sometimes. Is this just a coping mechanism that will hurt me more later on? Is avoiding pain by eliminating hope a better alternative than allowing my heart to feel it and hoping I can stand it? Am I more afraid of the pain of disappointment or of knowing I am fooling myself?
But I know how long the process takes - at least a year, and very likely more than that, especially if you have a narrow criteria (such as specifically wanting a girl/boy, under a certain age, with or without disabilities, etc.). And then there are the stories that so often, couples who even simply begin the process of adoption get pregnant right away because the stress is gone. You have hope. You're no longer afraid of the future, because now you have a tangible way of achieving your dreams. Somehow this hope and anticipation you feel in your mind and soul change the chemicals in your brain and physical body and your body suddenly works with you.
All of this because of hope? Darn, there's that tricky word again. Maybe there's something to it. Maybe instead of pursuing alternatives I should pursue hope. Do I dare to allow myself to get excited, to somehow believe that this will happen? Doesn't that go against what I wrote before, that we are not guaranteed anything in life? Or is hope simply a manifestation of a belief in a good God? If I believe that this is God's plan, that there is a purpose, that God is inherently good, shouldn't I have hope in what he has to offer for my future?
I choose to believe that God's plan is best, to take one step at a time, write one page at a time, and not try to skip to the final chapter and give away the ending.
After all, everyone knows that would ruin all the fun.