Wednesday, April 15, 2009

One month

30 days

720 hours

43,200 minutes

....until my due date. That means I've been pregnant for 250 days. Wow. In some ways, it feels longer than that. In other ways, it's flown right by.

Still, I can't get over the fact that, in 30 days, I'm due to have my son. So many days that I still can't even believe I'm pregnant and now we're actually going to meet him.

It's unbelievable.

Friday, April 10, 2009

Apparently I'm at a loss for a title, too

Over the last day or so, I keep finding myself at a loss for words, answers and just cohesive thoughts in general. On Wednesday, I found out that my friend's IVF cycle is having complications (yet again) and then yesterday I learned that a fellow nestie lost both of her twins after delivering at 24 weeks. And yet here I am, preparing to deliver my son in five weeks.

I don't get it. I just don't get it.

And so I'm kinda mad at the universe lately. I'm trying to make sense of why some things work out and some don't, why some have no issues conceiving, others deal with infertility, some never conceive and then for others, the inconceivable, losing a child. But the bottom line is, I can't make sense of it. Because none of it makes sense.

I briefly questioned God's role in all this yesterday, but forced myself to dismiss it. I ultimately don't believe he chooses who gets babies and who doesn't. In my head and heart, his role is to support us along the journey rather than choose the path. So that leaves the universe. How vague, huh? I feel like I have to lay blame on someone or something, so the all-inclusive "universe" is the winner. I recognize that it's kind of a cop out.

I know that infertility and loss isn't the only cause for this kind of thinking. I'm sure people dealing with issues like terminal disease and natural disasters have asked the same kinds of questions and wondered about the same big ideas. And what about those people who manage to make peace with all of this stuff? How do they do that? Like Randy Pausch in "The Last Lecture"? How does one find a sense of peace in devastation? I'm in awe of this kind of thinking, but I can't figure it out for the life of me.

So today, I'm still stuck in search of an answer: Why do some of us get the brass ring while others are left just grasping for it?