I wrote this before the month of our third anniversary trying to have children.

I wrote almost as an act of protecting myself in fear that the date would be too difficult to process. But God, in His sovereignty, surrounded us with community and filled our sorrows with joy. It wasn’t in a grand gesture, but was in coffee dates and swim dates, in gardening and painting. He met and provided through the people He placed in our lives.

Often when explaining to people that we’ve been trying to have kids for a while, I get a response of how hard it must be. But, something happens when I share how long it has been. When years are combined with the experience, the response is more genuine, more raw.

I get it. Years are lifetimes.


I can manage a couple,
My mind understands the concept of two,
But a few feels large,
And heavier than something I can hold,

Three years this month,
And we have nothing to show,
Little feet running with excitement,
Little hands building cities,
Little eyes seeing new worlds,

Three years this month,
And I’m weighed down,
The number seems large,
Feels heavier than I imagined it to be,

One was understandable,
Two I could see,
But three,
And all I see is fog,
The water looks murky,

Three years this month-

In mysterious ways,
we have grown,
And those not so mysterious,
Surrounded with love,

Hoping when all feels lost,
Yearning when fulfillment may never be attainable,
And certainty of anything feels childish,

Three years this month,
The pain is ever fresh and real,
The tears still run warm against my cheek,
My heart hurts and my mind is tired,
But I’m glad I’m not alone.

|Ecclesiastes 4:9-12|

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