I always debate posting about this. I wrote this post, almost erased the whole thing, re-wrote it, re-wrote it again, thought about it, saved the draft for a few weeks... you get the idea. It's intensely personal and a big part of me wants to keep it that way. But the amazing thing about this past year has been learning how many others are facing it. More than I ever realized. So many came to me and shared their stories. All of them unique, all of them difficult, and all of them amazing stories of courage and faith and hope. And I needed that, and I think they probably need it too. And that makes me happy.

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About a year ago, I shared a story about our journey with infertility. In addition to all of the beautiful stories that people shared with me, the outpouring of comments, emails, texts and general love we got in response felt like a big gigantic hug and was so encouraging. You guys were amazing to us. And we needed it.

But I'm going to be honest. If you'd asked me that day what I thought our life would look like a year later, I thought for sure it would have happened by now. A year is a long time, and I just figured it was bound to happen. But here we are, a year older, hopefully wiser, and it still hasn't happened. And if you'd asked me a year ago how I would feel about not being pregnant after all this time, I'd probably have guessed that I'd be a bitter, defeated heap of tears by now. But that's another thing I would have been wrong about.

People ask us often how things are going, and I can tell that sometimes they're hesitant to ask. And I get it. I know they don't want to bring up something that they know is painful, but I also know that they love us and want to share this journey with us and be there for us. And what I usually tell them, is that I wouldn't trade where we are now for anything. We have so much to be thankful for, certainly more than we deserve, and we are so hopeful about the future.

That's not to say there have been no tears. There have. There have been many, in fact. It never stops being a sad thing to be faced with. But I'm learning to not let the sad days feel like a setback. There's something beautiful even in the sadness, because it always teaches me a little more about God's ability and willingness to comfort. There have definitely been hard days, but the good news is that there have been so many more hopeful days.

But whether it's been a good day or a bad day, the one thing that has remained constant is God's presence in our lives. It's sort of an odd thing, really, the things you learn about Him and the unexpected ways He speaks to you. Seeing His face through the lens of hope, patience and joy, as well as through confusion, anger, disappointment, and totally imperfect faith has taught us more about His love than we ever could have imagined.

Our story is looking less and less like how I thought it would, but it's so much more beautiful and I've learned things that I might never have had the opportunity to learn otherwise. The learning has been the most wonderful part of all of this, really. It doesn't always feel wonderful at the time, but it's a lovely thing, to endure those growing pains with the peace that truly does surpass your understanding.

And that's the update. Waiting isn't always easy... in fact it almost never is, but we have so much joy and happiness in our lives and we're so grateful for the journey we're on. We're excited about the future. Physically speaking, I've had some great doctor's appointments and we're seeing great progress. We've always known that it was possible for us, but that it would likely just take time.

But I've learned to not let my hope be dictated by how things seem to be going with my body. Our hope is in something much bigger. It's in the promise of God's goodness in our life, no matter what that life winds up looking like or where it takes us. And that's a hope that never disappoints.