Beautifully Broken

I will never forget the day we were told that we were going to need more help creating a family. The day they gave me a physical list of things that were wrong with me, along with a list of treatments that possibly, maybe, might temporarily fix me. That day, the day I was told that my body wasn't in working order, it was hard to not feel broken. Broken as a person, as a woman. Plainly put to have everything theoretically needed to create life, but it is all failing to work properly. I am a woman but unable to do what women are made to do. It's hard to not wake up every day and look at myself in the mirror with disgust. Disgust at how my body betrayed me.
But maybe being broken wasn't just a bad thing. Maybe I needed to look at the word broken from a new perspective. The lens of what happens after things are broke. Pieces that were once one thing, have fallen apart and now have the potential to become something new. Maybe I wasn't quite assembled correctly yet. Maybe I fell apart, but I am now getting put together. When you purchase a bookshelf from the store, it comes in pieces. Layer by layer piece by piece you build it up. What if I am like that bookshelf? And these books added to my infertility journey are being placed on shelves while building me, taller, stronger and sturdier to hold what life has in store. Books about patience and persistence. Books full of things I never imagined I would need to know. And that ever so needed book about the important things in life that I shall be careful to not let it collect dust while collecting my new books.
So on those days I feel so broken, I am beautifully broken, broken and rebuilt into someone stronger. In life when all the pieces fall on the floor and shatter, don't let them lay there. Pick them up and build something new.

Photo credit: Walkowski Photography