I have spent the entirety of the last two weeks working feverishly to complete two to three months of research and writing in a quarter of that time. I rode the wave of momentum and every day I arose, went to my office, and ran my heart out.
There were days I was exhausted like I’ve never been before. Days when my head literally pounded–not from a headache, but from the true definition of mental fatigue. Yet I was running the race like a pro, I had all the momentum to keep going.
Now here I find myself, one day away from the finish line, 10 pages out of a hundred to go, and I can’t seem to lift my fingers to run one more course over the keyboard. My back and neck are tied up in knots, my throat hurts, and even my legs feel unable to take me the five steps upstairs to my office.
This day is like one many in the race to the infertility finish line have experienced. Some have run for months when it arrives, others for years. Yet arrive is always inevitably will.
With momentum you have faced each challenge. With momentum you have sprinted to the relief station each month–hoping, praying, believing. Until one day you find that you just don’t have the strength to take the next five steps. Your calloused heart and worn through patience no longer offer perseverance to your aching womb.
You see the last mile is always the hardest. When the finish line lies around the corner, just out of sight, it can be hard to find the desire to keep moving towards it.
Yet just like I will coerce all the unwilling parts of me to finish these last 10 pages, we must coerce the unwilling parts of us to have enough faith in the finish line that we pull ourselves up from the side of the road and keep running, walking, or stumbling to get there.
The last mile is always the hardest, yet it’s the one that perhaps matters the most as it’s the one that leads us home.