I’m feeling a little blue this week, as covid is making its presence felt once again. I was meant to be having a minor investigative surgery early next week, to try and get some answers about my infertility. Unfortunately, that’s had to be rescheduled for later in the year because of the current covid situation here. This is the third time it’s been rescheduled and I’m not about it.
We’ve certainly eased up on things the last few months. There was just too much going on, and we’d been trying so hard for so long, we just needed a break. This surgery is our final ‘thing’ before we really just let it go. With that postponed, the feeling of limbo is increased. We can’t even truly stop trying, although we’re not really progressing anywhere either. So frustrating.
I’m leaning into my resolutions for prayer, reading, exercise and journaling. That helps. But infertility is always hanging around in the background. Whenever we try to have conversations about our future, it rears it’s ugly head.
At Mass the other week, Father talked about the wedding feast of Cana, and how Jesus filled the six empty jars with life giving water, which turned into joyful wine. He linked Mary to this symbol, how the waters of her womb were filled with the joy of God. It was beautiful. But I sat there, feeling like a dry, empty jar. Will we ever get our miracle?
