Walking Through a Spring Garden in the Fall

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Recently my husband and I had the opportunity to take a week away from work and spend seven glorious days in western North Carolina. We were told by multiple people that we needed to check out the Biltmore Estate — that it’s the closest thing to a castle we have here in the U.S. 

After touring the house — is a building with dozens of bedrooms and almost fifty bathrooms and a pool really considered a house? — we decided to go for a walk through the gardens. We explored the rose gardens and the conservatory. Then I suggested we follow signs to the azalea gardens. I didn’t really think about what that meant, I just knew I was headed toward a garden full of beautiful flowers.

The Biltmore Estate

At one point my husband pointed out that the sign indicated we were walking toward the spring gardens — the azalea garden. He then observed that we were walking through a spring garden in the fall.

We both thought about that briefly and then burst into laughter! I knew at that moment I would have to write an article with that title — it’s just too good. I also took a few photos to commemorate this auspicious occasion! 

I don’t ever go looking for tulips in the fall. I know to expect green leaves in the spring, not bright orange and red ones. I don’t look forward to snow days in the middle of summer or a swim in the lake at the turn of the year. So why was I expecting to see a blooming spring garden on a beautiful fall afternoon?

First of all, the sign suggested that’s what I’d see. Obviously they don’t put in new permanent signs at the change of each season. But, when the sign pointed “that way” for the spring garden, I naturally followed it trusting the words I read to be true. Also, even though I wasn’t that far from home, there is something about being in a different location that somehow makes me forget that the seasons apply here too. It was a warm, sunny afternoon and in some ways it felt like spring. When you put the two together, it’s not completely surprising that I had unrealistic expectations.

How often do I walk into a situation expecting one thing and then end up experiencing something quite different?

Snowbird Azalea… in the Fall

All.The.Time. 

When my husband and I got married a little over four years ago, I expected that within a year or two I would be pregnant with our child. In seasonal terms, I was expecting to walk into spring with a new life on the horizon. Instead I found myself on the edge of winter when I was diagnosed with infertility. Even though my mind and heart were eager for spring, my reproductive system was already in the midst of winter. 

Just like those spring gardens I thought I’d see in the middle of fall, it’s not surprising that I had unrealistic expectations about my own fertility. 

The signs all around me suggested that conceiving a child would happen quickly. In TV shows and movies, women get pregnant all the time. Sometimes after a one-night stand. I had friends who planned when they’d have a child and the plan came to fruition with no issues just a few months later. Although a friend had two miscarriages, she was able to get pregnant again and carry two more children to full term births. Very few people around me talked about infertility problems, so that wasn’t even in my frame of reference. I guess I knew it was a possibility, but since I’d always wanted to be a mom, I hadn’t considered any other option.

Similarly, I was in a new stage of life — a newlywed married to a kind, generous man. The natural next step was parenthood. In my mind, everything in my life so far had led up to this moment, this opportunity to be the mother of a child carried in my womb. I had baby dolls as a young girl. I started babysitting at age 12 and not long after became a camp counselor. I spent over a decade of my life as a youth minister. I knew I was ready for this next step.

So, when you put all of that together, it’s not surprising that my diagnosis of infertility came as a complete shock.

Through my time of grief and ongoing healing, I’ve had to make a choice on how I want my life to carry on — with bitterness and anger or with joy and love. I chose option two — I’m choosing to live a good, full life in the midst of my infertility. It’s not easy making this choice every day, but it’s a choice I’m committed to. There are ups and downs, for sure, but my intention continues to remain steadfast in the midst of the daily struggles I face.

When we were walking toward that spring garden knowing we’d see nothing but dried up blossoms and crumbling leaves, we had a choice — we could be annoyed that this walk was leading us nowhere, or we could enjoy the moment together. We chose option two — we chose finding the humor in our situation, we chose enjoying one another’s company no matter where we found ourselves, we chose joy and love.

I have no doubt there will be future situations in which we metaphorically find ourselves walking in a spring garden in the fall. There will be moments when our expectations don’t match our reality. There will be moments when it would be easier to give up than push forward. I hope even in those trying times, we will continue to choose joy and love. That we will continue to choose each other.

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