A few weeks ago, I wrote this post about brokenness and how God sees us. At the time, I think I intended it as a reflection about something outside of myself. And now, I wonder if it might be words that my own self needed to hear.
Losing the fallopian tube in addition to the pregnancy has done a particular number to my own sense of self.
When the doctors started discussing the need for surgery, I didn’t want surgery for the precise reason that I knew I’d lose the tube. The loss of that tube seems symbolic of the loss of future hopes; I know intellectually and statistically that this is not necessarily the case. But, it still feels like another nail in the coffin of my own fertility and dreams for children.
All this to say, that I think I’ve begun to see myself as the metaphorical broken down fence from that post and not someone with potential and hope. And finding that I need to remind myself that all isn’t lost. Hope isn’t gone, but the process from brokenness to being made new is a long and painful one. Am I willing to participate in the process, or would I rather be sitting feeling sorry for myself? The answer to that one changes frequently.