These words are part of a collection of writings from the final months of our ten-year-long journey of delayed fertility. In them, I’m pulling back the privacy-curtain and taking you inside the pages of my prayer journals to give insight to those who have not experienced infertility, and hope to those who are neck-deep in the lonely-midst of it.

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Two days later, I was anxious. It was Monday morning. My quiet time routine had me reading in Nehemiah, but it didn’t feel right. I re-read Psalm 130:5-6, out loud in the morning silence. This is where I’m supposed to camp again this morning, I wrote. And then I turned to Charles Spurgeon and his timeless commentary for insight.

(9:00am) Monday – 4/20/15

“We name this the DE PROFUNDIS PSALM: ‘Out of the depths’ is the leading word of it: out of those depths we cry, wait, watch, and hope. In this Psalm we hear of the pearl of redemption,Psalms 130:7 – 8: perhaps the sweet singer would never have found that precious thing had he not been cast into the depths. ‘Pearls lie deep'” (the introduction to Psalm 130 from the Treasury of David).

As much as I want to be past this – beyond the Streams in the Desert kinds of devotionals, no longer swimming in the depths of waiting – my soul still finds rest here. And so … here will I rest.

“Deep places beget deep devotion. Depths of earnestness are stirred by depths of tribulation. Diamonds sparkle most amid the darkness. Prayer de profundis gives to God gloria in excelsis.” (Prayer in the depths gives to God glory in the highest.)

I continued reading through the commentary, and came across some words about verse two of Psalm 130 that packed a powerful punch:

it is better for our prayer to be heard than answered

I bolded the words over on the page, repeating them in my mind, then kept reading.

“This waiting of mine is no mere formal act, my very soul is in it, — “my soul doth wait.” I wait, and I wait — mark the repetition! “My soul waits,” and then again, “My soul waits”; to make sure work of the waiting. … If the Lord Jehovah makes us wait, let us do so with our whole hearts.”

Those last words pricked my heart, and I began to wonder about them – about the state of my heart, and if my waiting posture was wholly heartfelt.

God, am I still waiting with my whole heart? Or have I successfully worked myself out of the posture of waiting to where only my toe remains in it? Is everything else already onto the next step?

I had begun to beg Josh for some movement. Any movement. I needed something to look forward. An end in sight. What’s our cut off point? I would yell. Emotions were high. And since I couldn’t hash it out face to face, person to person with God, my husband received the unfortunate blunt end of my frustration.

Give it another two months, he said. His answer appeased my need for a timeline. But I quickly found myself without any expectation of pregnancy. We were 110 consecutive months into no pregnancies. The proof wasn’t anywhere in my prayer journals, but every day, I weighed the “other” options.

But how is that waiting for You now? I wrote the words out honest. That’s not waiting for You. That’s just waiting for a baby.

I thought of Elijah’s servant in 1 Kings 18, scouring the sky, looking for rain. I’m sitting here anticipating that You won’t come through, that this miracle pregnancy won’t actually happen, and contemplating our best option for making it happen ourselves. But that’s the Sarah mentality. And I don’t want an Ishmael!

Oh, how I wish I was waiting for rain instead because there’s only one way for rain to come!

I ended my morning with one last note from Spurgeon’s commentary:

“In His Word do I hope. This is the source, strength, and sweetness of waiting. Those who do not hope cannot wait. … Waiting, we study the Word, believe the Word, hope in the Word, and live on the Word. Because it is His Word, – the word of Him who never speaks in vain.”