Rocking Chair | The Speckled Goat: Rocking Chair


Rocking Chair

We're nearly three years into this grand lesson called marriage, and we've learned a lot- about ourselves, each other, marriage in general. All that knowledge is mostly good.

But one thing? One thing we've learned stands out... it's something I'd rather not have had to learn. We now know that getting pregnant- having kids- probably isn't going to be easy for us.

I could go on and on about my cycle length and my hormone panel results and basal temperatures and the doctors and the plans... but I won't. Not in this post, anyway.

..   ..   ..   ..   ..

I have my days- sometimes I feel confident and trusting and hopeful. I know that God's in control and He knows what's best for me. I find the blessings, I avoid comparison. I'm content.

And some days I'm incredibly disappointed. I always expected- took for granted, even- that we'd have kids easily. I figured that having kids was something that we could plan for, prepare for, count on. But it's completely out of my control. I can't schedule this, can't plan for it. Because I just don't know.

Infertility has stolen my joy more often than I'd like to admit, ripping holes in my vision of God's goodness for me. I fight against it- because I know that circumstances can change, but the scars forming on my soul will be hard to heal.

I fight for that joy: counting blessings even when they seem small; praying boldly; beating back the lies in my mind that tell me that maybe this is my fault, that maybe I'm not cut out for it anyway, that God is love but He doesn't love me.

I compare myself to those around me. I take out my pain on my husband. I feel guilty for feeling sad, for feeling jealous, for feeling angry.

This is the cross we've been given to bear, and I don't always bear it well. Most of the time, I don't bear it well.

Then there are some days... some days when I get a glimpse.

When I come home from work and walk past the room that would be a nursery, and the sunshine dances over the rocking chair, and I suddenly see myself. Sitting in that chair, rocking a sleepy little one.

And just as suddenly, I'm alone and standing in the living room, staring at the rocking chair I stuck in the middle of the messy office.

Related Posts:

Happy Mother's Day! (and why you don't need to feel sorry for me)

To My Pregnant Former Student

The Answers (The Ones We Know Right Now, Anyway)


  1. I'm so sorry for your pain. My heart goes out to you and I will pray for peace and healing in this situation. God bless you, sweet lady.

    1. Oh, thank you, Dawn! I covet those prayers!

  2. :( I hope things start to look up... infertility is such a difficult journey... lucky the statistics are in our favour! Prayers your way!

    1. That's for sure. Statistics and God... both in my corner! =) Thank you for your prayers- I need 'em!

  3. I hope one day you do get to rock your little one in that chair, God has a plan for you my lovely, sometimes the journey is hard but I bet when you get further along the path you'll look back and be like "if it had happened there I wouldn't have done/God wouldn't have taught me....".
    My parents had a rocking chair in their dining room when I was growing up - I think it now lives in the conservatory at their house. If we had had room I wanted a rocking chair in the nursery, unfortunately we didn't have the money or the space to put one in there. Maybe if/when baby 2 arrives.

    (Visiting from The Peony Project)

    1. I am praying (hard) that God will keep reminding me that His plan is better than anything I could come up with. I've seen that happen so often in my life! Now to just remember and trust. Thank you for stopping by!

  4. Ally, I've been where you are and can really relate to those feelings of deep disappointment you describe so well. I'm the kind of person who always reads the end of books first, and not knowing the outcome of the journey was really hard for me, too. Keep counting those blessings ... that is as wise as it is helpful. My thoughts are with you today. Visiting from #TellHisStory ...

    1. Thanks for the encouragement, Lois- I truly appreciate it. Not knowing the outcome is one of the hardest parts for me... I'm just trying to cling to the promises that God is good- not just in an abstract sense, but that He's good TO ME.