I will not write about how I am certain that the clomid failed this month. I will not write about how utterly defeated I feel before I've barely begun to try. I will not write about my fears of the possibility that nothing will ever work and my nephew will be the closest thing to my own child that I will ever have.
"I am trusting you Lord Jesus, trust only you..."
Instead I am going to pray.
I know that nothing is impossible. I know that whatever happens is meant to happen and is for the best - maybe not the best according to me, but the best according to the grand vision. I know that one month and 50mg of clomid is a very small first step and it is not the end of the world if it didn't work. I know that I need to be patient (something I have no skill at). I know that God hears my hopes and my fears and my dreams and my worries and *will* answer. I know that even though making my body work properly is the one thing dominating my mind, it is *not* the most important thing in the world, or even in my own life. My husband needs to find a job - *that* is very important.
Everything that is happening is meant to happen.