When we were struggling to have kids, I never thought maybe God didn’t want me to have kids.  Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a parent.  While I had faith (small ‘f’ even then) and believed in kismet, I knew that God gave humans the ability to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds, so I pushed forward without a second thought.  I wore a pin that was given to me by a friend going through a similar struggle, a guardian angel that I’d pin in a discreet location when I would go for a treatment.  While I had faith, I also knew that if it didn’t work because man’s science just couldn’t get it together for me, I’d done everything I could.  Including wearing a pin.  I’m writing this post because I found that pin this morning.  It was at the bottom of a bag I’d probably used the last time I’d gone to Shady Grove Fertility.  It made me smile to think back on the hardships of those years and how far we’ve come.  And, it prompted this post.

Well, to be honest, I’ve been mulling over this post for a few days.  Ever since Mike at Crime & Federalism wrote about raring for fights and Fight Club (one of my favorite books).  I told him that sometimes it’s hard to find a good fight, and even the fight with yourself just doesn’t seem worthwhile.  Mike wrote another post about running up a steep hill.  Well, it’s more than that.  But you should go and read it for yourself because the premise is that a fight with yourself is always worthwhile.  It is what muslims call the greater jihad.  It’s the one within yourself, the one with temptations of the world and what you know is good for you versus what you want despite how it might affect your humanity – KFC versus a home cooked piece of chicken from the farmer’s market, or smoking that cigarette vs. going for a run, or being faithful to your wife instead of fucking your 24 year old secretary.  You get it, right?

So Mike writes the posts and I think about them.  That’s what good writing does to you, it is supposed to make you think, and not just think “wow, what a good piece of writing” but the written word actually makes an impact on your brain and maybe on your actions in the future.  (By the way, I’ve been called a misogynist for being a fan of Crime & Federalism.  It very well could be true, I suppose) But while the post stirred up a lot of deep and provocative thoughts, I’ve found that it’s just those thoughts that are hardest to pin down and put into writing.  Even now, while I write this, I’m not quite sure where I’m going with it, but I ask that you, dear reader, bear with me for just a wee bit longer. 

Last year I couldn’t find a job.  I sent out resumes to places I thought I’d be well suited for, and others that sounded pretty dreadful but I needed to get out of the house and bring home a little kosher bacon.  I had some interviews but most resumes just went out into the ether.  So, in May of last year I rented this little office and got a sign for the door.  It’s not time for a retrospective, but, like I said, Mike’s posts and that pin just got me to thinking about Faith with a capital F and internal struggles and will.  And when I say Faith I mean Faith in myself and taking leaps and plunges and not being afraid of risk.  I mean Faith that I might jump and it might be cold or someone might not be around to catch me.  I mean Faith that if I put one foot in front of the other eventually I’ll walk, maybe not in a straight line but even zigzagging I’ll get around where I need to be. 

In 2008 when my boys were 14 months old I ran a marathon.  Honestly, ‘run’ might be an exaggeration, but I completed it.  While I was training all I kept thinking is “I was on bedrest for 16 weeks, I had twins, this is nothing.” Now, when I think of trying to make it, to build a business and do right by clients at the same time I think “I couldn’t have kids and I did, I can do this.”  

So yeah, that’s it.  Today I signed a lease on a bigger office in my same little office building.  It’s not much bigger and it’s not much more expensive, but I’m outgrowing my current teeny office.  I’ll bring my little coffee pot upstairs with me and while I’m not so sure what the next year – fuck it, I don’t know what the next week will bring, I’m going to keep on keeping on.  Because Mike is right, the fight with yourself is always worthwhile.