We accept a lot of things... Gifts. Money. Apologies. We gladly accept those. Acceptance is also the last stage of grief, but does it really end there?
I have accepted that, barring a miracle from God, I will not get, much less stay, pregnant. I know I've said it before, but God has brought such a peace to me over the last months. It's a strange place to be... A peace that passes all understanding. God promised to bring that peace-- not peace like the world gives, which would probably look more like rocking my newborn to sleep our first night home from the hospital, but peace that only God can truly bring-- being okay with "just" being the fun aunt. I can go rock my nephew to sleep, and come home smiling. Gone is that empty feeling of a quiet house and nobody to care for.
Acceptance doesn't mean I don't still yearn to be a mom, it means I accept that for now I'm supposed to be doing other things.
Acceptance doesn't mean I'll never cry after holding a newborn, or leave or skip a difficult baby shower or Mother's Day service, or need some time after learning of the latest pregnancy on the block. It means those times are the exception, not the given rule.
Acceptance doesn't mean I've given up hope, or quit wishing for a miracle, or quit wondering if this is the month occassionally. It means I don't have to be tied down with TTC, calendars, cycles, and being disappointed ever 28 days or so.
Acceptance is cool.