Dwell in Me

Seeking God in the Every Day

Category Archives: Infertility


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He Lives in Me

I go up and down a lot. And Christmas was tough. And the week after Christmas, full of decompressing and allowing my repressed emotions about all the baby talk of Christmas to come through, was really tough.

But then we started a new year.

Isn’t it beautiful how we can hope (or at least pretend) that a new year will be completely different than the old one? We can discard that old, worn out, used up year and trade it in for all the joys and excitements, for the hope and promise of a new, beautiful year.

And this is going to be my year of fruitfulness. So, what does that mean?

I’ve decided:

  • We will do everything in our power to conceive a child. That includes continuing and adding lifestyle changes that have some chance of helping us. And it includes trusting God to remember us. (Genesis 30: 22, “Then God remembered Rachel, and God listened to her and opened her womb.”)
  • We will take advantage of the opportunities presented to us. That means we’ll be doing some traveling this year, which I’m really stoked about. DH has a crazy schedule that involves a lot of time off between his long shifts. So, we’ll be going to Southeast Asia in March, which I am really looking forward to.
  • I will read the Bible. I have been doing a daily plan on my phone. It’s a bit of Old Testament, a bit of New Testament, Psalms and Proverbs every day. I’ve read the Bible before, but it feels new and different in light of our current circumstances. And I’ve been highlighting passages that strike me about infertility.

In the past few days, I’ve had a realization that we’re not going through this without reason. I don’t believe that it is God’s will for his children to suffer, so I really don’t believe that we are dealing with infertility because it is what God would have chosen for us. Our infertility is a result of a fallen world. But, given that we are dealing with infertility, I do believe that “God works all things for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

And I believe this means that going through infertility is going to bring us to our right family. I don’t know what our family will look like, but I believe infertility will lead us there. Who knows, maybe we are simply supposed to have twins. Maybe God will use us to provide a home for another person’s child. Whatever path we end up taking to get to a complete family–whatever that may mean–I trust that God is going to lead us to the right end.

Maybe this is something obvious to everyone else. But it just finally sunk in.

And as I was driving down the road today, I heard a beautiful song. I keep singing to myself, “Hallelujah, he lives in me!” What a wonderful and necessary reminder!

If God lives in me, and I believe he does, what powerful work he can do through me and even within my own body. The God who conquers giants and tells the dead to breathe can surely heal our broken bodies. This God has already shown me miracles. He has loved me when I was most unlovable. And I believe he will keep showing me miracles.

I pray I’ll have the eyes to see them.


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2013: The Year of Fruitfulness

I didn’t send a Christmas letter this year. How could I when the main theme of 2012 has been that we can’t get pregnant? The year 2012 is best summarized by what we said about TCU football all season: better luck next year.

We enter 2013 full of hope. Hope that this year we will get pregnant. Hope that we’ll move forward with treatments and that they will work for us on the first try. We can still hope for these things because they haven’t let us down yet. I hope they don’t.

But we also enter 2013 differently than we entered 2012. We’ve changed, and our expectations of life have changed. In the beginning of 2012, DH had just started a new job (which, thankfully, he still loves), we’d been TTC for four months and had no reason to think anything was wrong, and we were going house hunting.

In February we got a puppy (Melville) in the hope that he and our other dog (Cutter) would become good friends so Cutter wouldn’t feel too left out when we had a baby. He’s a doll, and I’m glad we have him. But he still represents a decision we made based on the expectations we had for our family.

In June we moved into a house that we got to build. It’s semi-custom, so we picked a floorplan and then chose things like the tile and granite and cabinets. It’s lovely. It’s also in a suburb of Houston known for family-friendliness and excellent schools. We built our house right behind the elementary school so our kids would be able to walk to school.

And in July, in the midst of the unpacking and getting settled, we found out our diagnosis. I figured all was fine and suspected the reason we’d been unsuccessful was because we’d moved three times in less than a year and we had a lot of stress associated with that. When we found out how dire our fertility outlook really was, I couldn’t believe it.

So we spent the rest of 2012 adjusting to our new reality, or trying to anyway. And wondering why we put ourselves in the suburbs with two dogs and excellent schools just in time to find out we won’t be having children naturally, and likely not the 4 to 6 kids we’d always planned to have.

This past year has been a difficult one and a lonely one. We have struggled to make friends as a couple married 5 years (which is apparently a long time in Texas to not have children) because we fall between social circles: we’re not new marrieds anymore and we don’t have a family. I think this would have been hard but not so lonely in DC, where our friendships were already established. It may also have been easier if we lived in downtown Houston instead of living in a far suburb.

Lately we’ve been asking God a lot about why we are here. We believed we were stepping out in faith for our family when we moved to a good school district early so we would be able to join a church for the long run. We thought we were stepping out in faith for our family when I left my office job to start my own business so that I could stay home and work if I wanted. We have made so many decisions–big and small–based on the expectation that we would center our lives around raising children. And now we don’t really know where we are.

I hope 2013 will bring clarity about God’s purpose for us. I hope it will bring us children, or at least closer to having children. And I hope we can serve God even in the midst of our heartbreak, our fears, and our pain.

One of the bloggers I follow wrote that she likes to christen each new year with one word. I really liked that idea. And I’ve been praying that God would make 2013 a year of fruitfulness for us. I hope we will have a fruitful year in the “be fruitful and multiply” way, but also in serving the Lord, in bearing fruit where we are planted, and in doing God’s will throughout the year.

Happy New Year. I wish you all prosperity, a renewing of your hope, and fruitfulness in 2013 wherever you are planted.  I wish for you that your trials will lead to perseverance. Blessings and peace to you.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27


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Happy Anniversary, Happy New Year

My husband is amazing. He is a strong man and a man of God. And he loves me. How he loves me!

I cannot say enough about the wonderful man I married. This man would do anything for me.

We met in college and dated three years (almost) before we were married five years ago today. On New Year’s Eve 2007, we started our new year and our new life together as newlyweds.

Although we’ve both said 2012 has been the worst and hardest year of our lives, I am so grateful it has not hurt our relationship. Dealing with infertility and the fear and the hopeless days and the heartbreak has not torn us apart. It may have strengthened us. It may be growing us as a couple.

DH is my best friend. My confidante. Truly the man of my dreams. Happy anniversary dear! I wouldn’t be who I am without you.

Five years.

It’s gone by quickly in many ways. But the number is hard to swallow in light of our infertility. This is not where we thought we would be five years in. I look back and see how so many of our plans and expectations have been turned upside down or inside out. And infertility has been the greatest blow of all.

But we keep going. And we’ll get through this. And who knows, maybe this will be our last anniversary to spend alone. Maybe this time next year we will be sleep deprived and wishing for a night out, just the two of us. And we’ll look back on our infertility and say thanks to God that there is a wailing baby keeping us up at night.

So we’ll live it up tonight, in the hopes that this is our last anniversary without children. Maybe we’ve lived our last year as a family of two. We look forward to 2013 and all its promise and all its hope and we’ll enjoy this night. Because we can. Because we have each other.


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Busy Busy (Thank the Lord)

I’ve been a terrible blogger lately. I think it’s because I’ve been busy with all the Christmas preparations. We had a Christmas-party filled weekend that started with a caroling party at our house, his company party, and the church’s Christmas pageant on Sunday. We’re hosting DH’s family at our house on Christmas Eve, and I have been gathering groceries, wrapping gifts, and trying to finish my present for DH. Oh, and I decided in a fit of inspiration (read: insanity) to try to make homemade gourmet marshmallows for the members of his family as Christmas gifts. I’ll let you know how that goes.

I’m so thankful for this busyness. Especially because in the few moments I find myself alone with my thoughts (like waiting in the customer service line at Walmart, ugh!), IF has been starring center stage. It’s worse than normal. And when the radio plays my now least-favorite song of all time (“A Baby Changes Everything,” by Faith Hill), I change the station as the tears start flowing.

Oh Christmas.

I do so love this time of year. Except when I remember that while the whole world is expecting a baby, my womb is still empty.

Merry Christmas everybody. Wishing supernatural comfort, strength, peace, and joy to everyone dealing with hurt and loss this holiday season. I may be back before the 25th; I’ll definitely be back before year-end.


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A Slight Detour

I promised in my last post that I would write about David as the first in my “They Were Called” series. And I will. But right now I need to take a slight detour. I started studying David and am a little overwhelmed by the amount of reading I need to do. And I am hosting a Christmas party on Friday. I hope I can post about David next week.

Now on to the detour:

Today we celebrated a Christmas brunch with the ladies in leadership for my Bible study. We’re studying Hebrews, and this week’s lesson mentions Abraham and how patient he had to be while waiting for the fulfillment of God’s promise that he would be a father of many. So our homework asked how long we’d ever had to wait for something for which we had earnestly prayed.

Of course, the first thing that came to mind is our continuing daily prayer for complete healing and for a healthy pregnancy that leads to a healthy baby. We’ve been actively, earnestly praying that prayer since we started trying to conceive about 15 months ago. We’ve been hoping to be parents, as a couple, for nearly 5 years of married life, and we have been talking about being parents for close to 8. I’ve been planning and expecting to fulfill my calling to be a mother for most of my life, and I would say explicitly for at least the past 10 years. I know that is not a long time. Fifteen months of actively trying and daily praying is especially short compared to the 25 years (I think that’s right) Abraham and Sarah waited for their son. (In my defense, I don’t expect to live nearly as long as Abraham and Sarah; Abraham died at 175 and Sarah lived to be 127.) But it is still painful. It is still something we are waiting for. And, unlike Abraham, we wait without having received from God any promise that we ever will have children.

Another thing I’ve been praying for in the past few months is a person I could meet with in person and talk to about infertility treatments and all the pain and grief and the many challenges that go along with infertility. I love having a blogging community, but I was missing the personal contact that only face-to-face encounters can provide. Of course, we have been really picky in who we have informed about our infertility. How would I find anyone if I wasn’t willing to open up?

And God is so great. Today he brought someone to me.

D is in my Bible study leadership group. Today this is what she shared (paraphrased):

I was up this morning at 4:00 because I couldn’t sleep. And I turned to look through and go over my Bible study questions. And when I got to this question [the how long have you waited question], I felt as though God was telling me I needed to share something. We normally don’t share that we really struggled to get pregnant. . . .

After three years of TTC, she and her husband were fortunate to be able to participate in a study for a new drug. They ended up becoming pregnant in the last month of the study with their son. He is now 19. They had wanted to have many children. A year after their son was born, they started TTC again, ultimately with IVF. It didn’t work for them. And she said she has always struggled on the one hand with why they only had one child while also being so grateful to have one child. She said it is especially difficult now as their son is away at school and really leaving the nest.

When the meeting and the brunch were over, I sought her out, away from everyone else. And I told her what we are going through and how I had prayed for her. And I cannot tell you how much her hug meant to me. We both wiped away tears as we talked about how difficult it is to walk this road. She talked about how no one understands what we’re going through unless they’ve been there or are there. I know she’s right.

And I realized something. I have the great fortune of going through infertility in an Internet age with a great blogging community (thank you all for writing!) and people I am connected with who can understand what we’re going through. People who can lift us up in prayer and who we lift up in prayer. Real people who need this community as much as I do.

She didn’t have that.

I hope I can be community for her–albeit a little late–as I know she will be for me.

Praise God for 4 a.m. meetings and answers to prayer. Praise God.


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Working for My Calling

I feel called to be a mother. It is the only vocation I’ve ever seriously considered (outside of being a world-famous novelist, of course). I am a freelance copyeditor. And I’m good at it. And I am in the process of quitting because it isn’t meaningful to me (among other reasons).

I yearn deeply for the day when I will be a parent.

I expected motherhood to happen when we wanted it to happen. (Not that this was a huge stretch; most people don’t deal with infertility.) I expected that since I feel called to be a mother, I would be a mother. In our first four years of marriage, I looked at every year as one more year of waiting until we decided to have children; one more year until I could get started on my “career.” There were a few things we chose to do first. I don’t regret that. I am so grateful for the time DH and I have had together, the time we still have together. And based on our diagnosis, there’s no reason to think that our outcome would have been any different if we’d started trying on our wedding night.

But since I felt called to have children, I thought it would be easy. And when we found out our diagnosis, I started questioning my calling. Had I misunderstood? Am I NOT supposed to be a mother after all? Why would I have this strong desire in my heart if it weren’t meant to be?

And then I wondered, if I’m not supposed to be a mother, then what? Maybe I needed to find a new calling to pursue.

But there is no new calling; not anything to replace motherhood. I have short-term callings, day-to-day things that I feel called to do in a moment or for a time, but these are not the same. That could change. God could tell me tomorrow that he does, in fact, have a different path laid out for me. But this is where I stand today.

And then it hit me. Who said achieving a calling would be easy?

I certainly don’t expect to churn out a novel without blood, sweat, tears, and soul pouring onto page. The successful businessman didn’t get where he is without working for it. My pastor didn’t wake up one day and start preaching to a church congregation without first facing any roadblocks or challenges. My husband didn’t get where he is in his career without working for it, or without running into a few dead ends.

Why should fulfilling my calling of becoming a mother be any different?

Some of the most famous people God called faced enormous adversity on the way to fulfilling their calling. I need to be reminded of their struggles. I’ll start with David. This will be my first blog series. We’ll see how it goes.


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Enjoying Advent and Longing

I love Christmas. I have been really enjoying getting our house decorated, planning our Christmas caroling party, and watching Christmas movies. But this morning at church, I started crying during a Christmas song. Why?

Apparently this holiday is all about a baby. And the preparations we make are all about expecting a baby.

The song this morning just reminded me how much I wish I were expecting. I still love Christmas. And I am so grateful for the entrance into the world of my savior. Without him, who knows where I’d be. I don’t think I’d be able to handle what we’re going through now.

But that doesn’t change how much I hope I will one day be blessed to be a mother.


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Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving. I have so much to be thankful for. It takes effort to remember that today while cramps pulse through my body, a constant physical reminder this day of what I don’t have.

I am trying to praise. To praise the God who is outside of time, the God who sees the whole story, the God who knows where we are going and how we will serve him. The God who satisfies the longing soul.

And part of me wants to beg and plead for immediate answer to our prayers, to complain about the road we’re on, to demand that if he loved me, he would do what I want him to do.

What a petulant child. Who am I to question the God whose plan is perfect and whose ways are not my ways?

I do not know the why. I do not have the answers. But my God surely does. And he promises that all things work for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).

So today, while I am thinking about Thanksgiving and feeling the physical pain and the emotional heartache of what I don’t have, today I am thankful. I am thankful for infertility.

Not because I feel like it has made me better in any way.

Not because I would ever have chosen this for myself.

Not because I can even fathom how this could possibly be for good.

I am thankful for infertility because I choose to believe what God has said. I believe this is for my good. I am thankful because it is God’s best for me. Because God is using it for good and for his glory, albeit in some way I cannot now understand.

Thanks be to the God who sees, the God who provides, the God who heals. Thanks be to God.


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He Satisfies the Longing Soul

I’ve been in a good place lately. We’re still infertile (as far as we know), but I’m either really in denial or beginning to come to terms with things. I guess we’ll find out which when a. I have my next breakdown, b. we start fertility treatments full force in the new year, or c. I find myself peeing on a stick if my period is late. (NOTE: both a. and c. would indicate denial; b. could really go either way.)

At any rate, I figure I should be thankful for the peace I have and not squander it. I’m glad I’ve been able to spend many of the past few days thinking about and doing things that are not related to infertility. I know some of what I say (especially “if we have kids,” instead of when) and some of what I do (like mentally preparing myself for dealing with baby stuff) is done through a filter of infertility, but it hasn’t been as all-consuming or tragic as it was a few months ago.

I also feel like going through infertility and the questions and pain it raises has helped me dig deeper in my faith. I’ve been communicating with God on a deeper level, in large part because I’ve been able to be honest with him and I’ve had something deep and meaningful to be honest about. 

A few days ago, I came across Psalm 107: 8-9:

Let them thank the Lord for his steadfast love,
for his wondrous works to the children of man!
For he satisfies the longing soul,
and the hungry soul he fills with good things.

My soul has been longing. For children. But I think that longing has been misplaced. I should be longing for God and trusting him that what we are going through is for our good and for his glory. That what he wills is better than what I will. And that his ways are not my ways.

At my Bible study the other day a woman talked about how we need to lay our wills on God’s altar with cheerfulness and thanksgiving; we should gladly take on the will of God, believing it to be better for us than our own desires.

Profound.

I have been struggling to do this, but I am trying. And I think it’s in the trying to obey–even when I fail–that I am blessed with peace.

Thanks be to God, the God who satisfies the longing soul.


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Going Home

I’m leaving tomorrow to go home–to St. Louis–for Thanksgiving.

I was home in May. That was before we found out our infertility diagnosis, but after we’d been TTC for 9 months. When we first started trying, DH was back in school and I was our sole breadwinner. (Let’s just say that as a freelancer, I don’t win very much bread!) DH’s mom had been pretty clear a few months before that she didn’t think we had any business procreating until he was out of school because “parenting is more than a 40-hour a week job” and we wouldn’t have much money. (Yes, that really upset me. IF has, surprisingly, really mended that relationship somehow.) So, anyway, I called my mom before we started trying to find out if my parents would also be ticked if we got pregnant. She laughed and told me they’d be delighted. I also expressly told her not to tell a soul, not even my dad. Of course, I thought we’d be pregnant within the next month or two and I wanted it to be a surprise when I told everyone.

So, in May, I was surprised to find out that most of my family (I mean, from siblings to aunts and grandparents) knew we were trying. When I confronted my mom about it, she said she had to tell people because it was taking so long and we needed their prayers.

DH and I were furious. And when we found out we were infertile, we were even more upset. I think partly because it’s possible we’ll end up adopting, and I don’ t really like the idea that my family will see our adopted children and whisper to each other, “You know, they didn’t plan on adopting,” or “they tried to have their own kids, but it didn’t work.” I know those things are true, but it doesn’t mean I want everyone (especially any future adopted children) to know that our family represents some kind of plan B  in action.

But, there’s a short-term upside to this. I am heading home tomorrow with the expectation that no one will pester me with the dreaded “when are you going to have kids?” And, as an added bonus, there aren’t any babies in my family yet. Until this summer, DH and I were the only ones married out of all the cousins. One of my cousins married this summer, but I think (hope?) they’ll wait a little while before they try for kiddos.

I know I’m super lucky in this and that many of you may be dreading those holiday gatherings. I wish you all the best and will be thinking of you over the next week and through December that you would be able to take joy in your family time (or lack thereof!) regardless of your situation.