In honor of Mother's Day this week, I am feeling nostalgic. Please join me as I take a trip back to those early days...days of hope and joy, and fuzzy-headed (rather large) miracles...and also stories of sadness and loss, and months of fragile hope and darkness. The jumble of emotions and stories which pave my journey to motherhood.
Catch up on the Journey:
Through the years, I've had people ask why we decided to go to a fertility specialist, when we say we trust God to answer prayer? Why didn't we just trust God--especially when none of the fertility treatments worked, and we had thrown away hundreds (if not thousands? Eek!!) of dollars? Dave and I talked a lot about this very question before ever heading down that road. Because we DID trust God for everything. At least we thought we did.
Deciding to pursue infertility treatments was something my heart needed to do. I knew there was a very good chance I would never get pregnant again--with, or without the help of a fertility doctor. But, looking ahead to my future self, to my future heart--I didn't want to look back and regret. I didn't want to regret not trying everything within our means to get pregnant again.
And when we reached the end of our fertility treatment road, my heart was okay. I knew we had done everything in our power to have a baby. I don't regret one moment of the testing, jumping through the hormonal hoops, or even the large amount of money we spent. That was the path we needed to take in those years. Dave and I bonded in a way we never would have otherwise. We shared moments of desperate tears (okay, my tears) and hysterical laughter over over things so funny and embarrassing we'll never tell anyone!
Plus, I fought some real battles with God in those years that I might not have otherwise. Battles that made me look past a tidy little boxed-in faith, and into a real-world faith that asked, "Who will I trust if God's answer is 'No'? Where is the peace that passes understanding when I am angry at God for His answer right now?" These kinds of questions were scary for me to ask. But, they sure did make my faith deeper, and more real. What's the little saying I've seen on posters with a rock climber hanging onto a cliff--"Faith isn't faith until it's all you're holding onto." Walking through infertility and miscarriage may have been God's way of pulling my cozy rug out from under me, and seeing if I could depend on Him when I lost total control.
And guess what? I could! I certainly didn't figure it all out back then. Even now I don't have it all figured out. I still have so much to learn about faithfulness on my part. But, through the disappointment, the impatience, frustration, sadness, and the anger--I found myself still praying. Still asking. Still begging. And most importantly, still believing. That makes me smile, even to type that. Who am I, that I wouldn't believe in the God of the universe, who had already given me so much, and done so much in my life? But, probably like many of you, I needed to walk that uncertain path, so that I believed in Him because He was all I was holding onto.
The day I called the adoption agency, my heart was ready to move on and pursue a new path. I was terrified of the new path; but I was confident God would lead us through, just like He always had. I had so many questions that I knew would be outside my control--the timing, the will we ever get picked, what if the baby didn't bond with us, the expense that seemed out of our reach... As I picked up the phone to make that first call to the adoption agency, I knew our life was about to change.
And, once again, God had different plans.
...To be continued...
This story has to end sometime, right? Please join me tomorrow, as I wrap up the story of My Journey to Motherhood.