My sister-in-law had her baby this week. Our niece is perfect and beautiful!

I think I cried every single day after she was born.

Much like when we got the news in January that my SIL was preggers, I felt loads of genuine joy and excitement for her…with aftershocks of sadness for myself.

I always thought that I’d be there by now. I planned to get married soon after graduate school. I thought I’d enjoy being married for a year or so and get pregnant. I would then transition to raising a family. I expected to have 3 kids by 31. And maybe a fourth sometime after if I was still alive and smiling?

When God kept me single for 10 years, I knew that I had to surrender my timeline. I knew that would not be my story. God turned out to be enough in that time. And he blessed me with a phenomenal husband.

What has been hard about being married is three things: 1) I did know and almost date my husband 10 years ago…when I actually could have had children, 2) It feels like three (primarily younger) sister-in-laws are on-track/living my dream right in front of me, and 3) I have concerns at this age if my mental health is good enough to have/raise kids…or pass my genes on.

Though we aren’t trying to get pregnant yet, each and every month I re-encounter the reality of my situation in other ways that make infertility seem like an inevitability. My ovaries have only released two mature eggs in the past 18 months.

I sometimes wonder if the combination of how hard it’s going to be to conceive + the new mental health struggle is God’s way of telling me that I’m not meant to have kids. The fact that “trying” has to be such a deliberate decision scares me. Am I playing God/being disobedient by undergoing different levels of treatment? Am I capable–when every few weeks I still am incapacitated by resurfacing panic/hopelessness, however fleeting? Do we adopt/foster, when I’ve mostly heard terrible stories?

I’ve been wrestling with God about a lot lately because I wish things were different. I wish that I was not different from the rest of our family. I wish I could choose the number of kids we would have. I wish that there wasn’t a nearly 50% miscarriage rate if I do get pregnant.

This week, I’ve been straight up ignoring God’s voice. I’ve been angry and resentful because it doesn’t feel fair.

I see this pattern in my life; I’m always bracing for what God (or others) might do. He’s let things drag on much longer than I’ve wanted before. I know how hard it is.

But thankfully, as sad as I’ve been, God used small group, my limited Bible reading time, and church to remind me who He is.

He reminded me not to trust Him with all my heart and lean on my own understanding. He reminded me that He is truly good (which I knew but wasn’t feeling). He reminded me that He is good because He loves me enough to wrestle with this sinner’s restless heart. He is good because He loves me to death despite all my dirt and decay, anxiety and intrusive thoughts. He reminded me that His love persists and is not dependent on making my dreams come true. He reminded me that if I have miscarriages, He will be enough. He reminded me that He has the heart of a Father for me–and isn’t some mean man in the sky doing things I don’t like for the good of a world with total disregard towards me.

He reminded me that He doesn’t love me less.

I know that every time there’s an announcement or a birth (which to be honest, I expect sometime soon), these feelings will resurface again…kind of like when a great single friend got married. But I know that God will keep showing me his goodness and tenderness, too. He will keep leading me to surrender.

A man in our small group gave me a word that he heard from God:”Just watch, daughter. You can’t imagine what I’m going to do. Just watch.”

I am believing that I’m going to watch Him do something good.