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Hi. Welcome to my "taboo" blog. My name is Steph, and when I first started this, I was still in my thirties. In 2017, I switch decades! I am a Christian, so underlying everything I do and say is the Word of God, and the foundational truths I have learnt over the years. This doesn't mean I'm perfect - I am human. It just means I recognise I need God's help to live this life and try to live out His way, as best I can. So that's me in a nutshell. Thanks for taking the time to read through my blog, I hope you draw strength, hope or encouragement from what you read.

Monday, October 21, 2013

Like a Slap in the Face

Don't you just hate it, when you're just doing life, minding your own business, when suddenly the grief of the struggle to conceive slaps you in the face... usually at the most awkward moments... or is it just me!

Hubby and I had taken my Stepson out for the day over the weekend. We thought it would be fun to visit a local farm attraction, and it was! We had so much fun together. But literally about an hour after lunch, I suddenly had this huge overwhelming desire to burst into tears. As I looked around me I was literally surrounded by families with babies and toddlers - some of the kids resembling so strongly their mum or dad. I looked at Hubby and his boy, and there is absolutely no denying they are father and son.

I wondered what my own Bubba would be like, whether he or she would resemble me physically or in character. I then wondered how much fun my Bubba would have and how I would be able to talk to my Bubba about the animals, and of how God created them. We could have petted them together, fed them together and done the things I saw mum's doing with their precious little ones. And what Hubby was doing with his son. I could have shared in a more intimate way, the excitement of my Bubba as a lovebird landed on his or her hand, the exuberance of whizzing down the bumpy slide, the joy at watching the meerkats playing together, the laughter as he or she tried to stroke one of the pesky chickens... as a step parent, I really felt outside the "family bond" which I was supposed to be a part of.

The impact of this came up so suddenly, without warning, without me actively thinking along those lines, and the accompanying grief was immense. Unexpected in the middle of a brilliant day trip. It was all I could do to hold back the tears, right there in the middle of muddy puddles, in my wellies, surrounded by all these families on the farm.

Hubby was brilliant. He sensed almost as soon as I was aware of my emotional state, what was happening within me. He didn't tell me to "pull myself together" or to "just enjoy the day for what it is" or to "forget about our struggles", he understood that this was suddenly a lot harder than it should have been as a day out together. He held me. He comforted me. He was there for me. He understood.

On the drive home, when Hubby and his son were asleep in the car (both in exactly the same position, head back, mouth open), I finally afforded myself the luxury of the tears which had built up so suddenly. They flowed like streams of grief down my cheeks, my heart ached with the emptiness of my empty arms, my broken body, my unfulfilled womb. The grief allowed to leave my heart, leave my soul and come out into the open. Sometimes, we need to allow ourselves to let it go.

This Journey for Bubba is hard work, and pretending otherwise is to deny the depths of the longing for our own child. Trusting God will work in my impossible situation doesn't mean there won' be times it hurts. Faith is believing God can and will work in this Journey, and until He does, I will work through the days like this when my mind gives me an unexpected slap in the face.

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