Be Still and Know

Yesterday morning, I took yet another negative pregnancy test.

I'd gotten tired of taking negative tests and had resolved to not buy any more, until I counted the days on the calendar and realized that my dear old Aunt Flo, who is usually so regular you could set a clock to her, was late.  When you're trying for a baby, as Steve and I are, this is always exciting, and so we dropped everything, ran to the store, and bought a test.

I was certain I saw a line--Steve wasn't so sure.

He was right.  I was wrong.

Apparently Aunt Flo got caught in traffic, because she showed up two days late and even more cranky than usual.

It's a sad irony that when you're trying--and not succeeding--to get pregnant, the consolation prize is a week's worth of bloating, cramping and bleeding.  I'm sure there's reasoning behind that; opposition in all things and all that--but it would be nice if, instead, the consolation prize was, "Hey--you don't get a baby, but instead, you're going to be magically skinny and energetic!  Don't be too sad!"

Or something like that.

I haven't written much on here about our experience trying for this fifth baby, mainly because we already have four children, we've only been trying for an amount of time better measured in months than in years, and I have friends who have experienced true infertility for years, while mine is what I see as a temporary pause in our scheduling.  I haven't wanted to complain, because I can see God's hand in this just as surely as I've seen His timing with each of our other children.  I have learned and grown as a mother, and I have learned and grown as His daughter.  I've tried to take these extra months and become something better than I was, and looking back at where I was at the beginning of the year, when we got the answer to start trying for a baby, I can see the growth I've experienced.

Opposition is a necessary part of life.  In a piece of art, the light is noticeable because of the shading; highlights are offset by darker areas.  I have more joy now as a mother to the four children I already have than I have ever yet experienced, even while the sorrow hits my empty arms as my toddler climbs out of them to go explore and I don't have another baby to pick up in his stead.

So I haven't written about it, because my life is FULL of light.

But there are some shadows, as well.  

In my ward, there are approximately a dozen ladies who are either now pregnant or whom have just had babies.  As I entered church a couple of weeks ago with my husband and four kids in tow, a sweet older lady giggled, "Better be careful walking through that door!  Everyone else under thirty who has come in here has been pregnant!"

I smiled and simply said, "Bless your heart for thinking that I'm under thirty!"

She laughed, and I continued on my way, ushering my own private circus into the chapel where they could cause a sufficient distraction to at least a third of the congregation as they usually do on Sundays.  I sat and prayed, as I do every Sunday, that I could continue to make the progress I know is required of me as a disciple of Christ, and that I could have patience until the timing is right for this next baby to join our family.

Sitting in Relief Society and glancing around at the sweet babies and the swollen bellies and happy, slightly-exhausted pregnant glow of these other ladies, I can feel my heart break just a little more every month as time goes by and my wish goes unfulfilled--yet isn't that what Christ asks for in His followers?  Broken hearts and contrite spirits?  

One of my favorite songs of all time, "Behold the Wounds in Jesus' Hands," was going through my mind on Tuesday morning.  The lyrics are simple and powerful, and one line in particular hit me over and over again:

Come, open wide your broken heart

And let the Savior in.

Softened, broken hearts are much better at changing than untested, firm and stiff hearts.  We break in shoes to run or dance, we break down gluten to make bread, we break open the soil to grow life.  Should I be surprised that Christ needs my heart to be a little more broken before granting us this righteous desire?

Patience has always been a virtue that I've struggled with.  I'm usually a quick learner, so when it comes to patience, I find myself following the personality trait that Neal A. Maxwell once said about himself--"I want to learn how to be patient RIGHT NOW."

Yet, as we've had to wait for a timeline that I'm trying to trust even as I can't see it, I'm finding myself learning how to be more patient and less angry or panicky when things don't go the way I think they should.  I'm taking time to slow down and talk to my children when I get frustrated, instead of yelling (NOT perfect in any way in this, but improving).  I take time in the mornings to truly sit, think, and read the words of life, rather than jumping straight into a hectic, busy day with no spiritual armor on.  Not because I'm righteous or disciplined, but because I need it now more than I have since my last big Opposition.

Yesterday morning, I took a negative pregnancy test.  Last night, a massive lightning storm hit our area.  Steve and I went together to sit on our front porch and watch quietly, observing the power of the hand of God.  The dark sky around us was lit up over and over with flashes of brilliance, as the thunder rumbled in the background, sometimes subtle and other times nearly shaking the house with its power.

As we sat, together in our silence and sorrow, the thought entered my mind: "Be still and know that I am God."  

Be still and know that He has a plan.  

Be still and know that He has a timeline.

Be still.

And know.

And I was still.  And I knew.