I used to have a large picture of a guy in the middle of a light house with waves crashing all around him as he stood calmly by the door.
For many years during our infertility journey and in life in general, I was not that guy.
I would have been the dude shutting the door and heading to higher ground.
I would have been cursing the storm, flipping it off, or waving my hand in an exasperated ‘are you freaking kidding me?’
More than likely, I never would have even gone to the light house knowing that there was a chance I’d encounter waves like that.
Eventually, I found the courage to stand outside that lighthouse.
Yes the waves could sweep me away at any moment.
But what good would it do for me to freak out or curse the storm?
It was coming whether I liked it or not.
A lot of times, I found I was caught up in other people’s storms as we tried to have a baby.
Often, I cursed those storms, ran away from them, or almost drowned trying to help them through their needs as they got pregnant, or had kids, or wanted us to be a part of their lives, or expected us to be the people we were before infertility hit us like a tsunami.
I began to notice half the time, the bigger storms were stirred up by my own anger, resentment, and hurt, or a need for vengeance when I felt I had been wronged.
The more I responded, the angrier the sea became.
The waves became much smaller when I just focused on my own personal storms.
Protected by that peaceful mindset, I rarely tasted the salty waters of other people’s waves.
If you can’t lift someone else up, for God’s sake, don’t let them pull you under.