From then on, Jesus began to tell his disciples plainly that it was necessary for him to go to Jerusalem, and that he would suffer many terrible things at the hands of the elders, the leading priests, and the teachers of religious law. He would be killed, but on the third day he would be raised from the dead. … Then Jesus said to his disciples, “If any of you wants to be my follower, you must turn from your selfish ways, take up your cross, and follow me.” (Matthew 16:21, 24)
It really is crazy to think that Jesus specifically told the disciples to take up their cross and follow him well before he was crucified. How much plainer could he have spoken?
Jesus knew the moment he began his ministry that he was taking up a cross and that he would bear that cross to completion.
And he told his disciples that he would be killed and that he would rise again three days later.
He told them this at least three times. (See Matthew 17:22-23 and Matthew 20:17-19.)
But after he was crucified, the disciples are nowhere to be found. When they first receive the news that Jesus has risen from the dead, they don’t believe the women who tell them, “because their words seemed to them like nonsense.” (Luke 24:11)
I look at this and wonder at how the disciples could have had so little faith. It is clear they did not believe what he had told them.
But why do I think I’d have done any better?
I’m dealing with infertility. And it hurts. It hurts so badly. And I cannot confess to you the number of times I have thought about my situation and found it hard to believe that God could be using this for my good, for anyone’s good.
But I’ll try to have faith.
Eventually, the disciples saw Jesus face-to-face again. And then they believed. Even the most skeptical of all of them believed. I can only hope God will have patience for me as he did for them.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
I’ve been studying and teaching Hebrews. I find it a really interesting book, and a really difficult book to relate to the first and second graders I teach. The vocabulary alone is difficult. (When asked if they knew what it meant to be an “heir,” because Hebrews 1:1-2 says Jesus was “appointed heir of all things,” one little girl answered, “I think it means you get someone’s soul.”) Add in all of the references to the Old Testament books, and things get confusing quickly for the seven-year-old mind. I’m not just teaching Hebrews, I’m teaching parts of the history and culture and laws of God’s chosen people.
This week, the section we studied called our attention to the Israelites as they wandered in the desert after being rescued from Egypt. Moses, at God’s command, had sent a group of men into the promised land to scope it out before they entered. When they came back,
They gave Moses this account: “We went into the land to which you sent us, and it does flow with milk and honey! Here is its fruit. But the people who live there are powerful, and the cities are fortified and very large. We even saw descendants of Anak [basically giants] there.” (Numbers 13:27-28)
Then, this:
“We can’t attack those people; they are stronger than we are.” And they spread among the Israelites a bad report about the land they had explored. They said, “The land we explored devours those living in it. All the people we saw there are of great size. We saw the Nephilim there [the descendants of Anak come from the Nephilim]. We seemed like grasshoppers in our own eyes, and we looked the same to them.” (Numbers 13:31b-33)
These spies had witnessed great miracles. They had seen the plagues God rained on Egypt. They had crossed the parted Red Sea. They had followed God as a pillar of smoke by day and of fire by night. They had received manna from heaven. Their clothes never wore thin. It’s easy to think that they, of all people, should have trusted in God’s strength and ability to lead them to victory in the promised land.
But they didn’t.
Did they think that as big as God may be, he wasn’t big enough? Maybe they simply did not consider God at all but continued to put their faith only in their own strength. And they saw their strength was insufficient. Alone, without God, they stood no chance against giants!
They needed to relinquish self-reliance before they could truly rely on God.
And they needed to realize that their God is bigger than they can imagine.
The Israelites weren’t all of one mind in this. One of the spies spoke up for God:
Then Caleb silenced the people before Moses and said, “We should go up and take possession of the land, for we can certainly do it.” (Numbers 13:30)
Why was Caleb’s calculation so different from the rest? After all, he’d seen the same things as the others. But he added in one important part: God. God had told the people he would give them the promised land, and Caleb (and Joshua) believed him:
Joshua son of Nun and Caleb son of Jephunneh, who were among those who had explored the land, tore their clothes and said to the entire Israelite assembly, “The land we passed through and explored is exceedingly good. If the LORD is pleased with us, he will lead us into that land, a land flowing with milk and honey, and will give it to us. Only do not rebel against the LORD. And do not be afraid of the people of the land, because we will devour them. Their protection is gone, but the LORD is with us. Do not be afraid of them.” (Numbers 14:6-9)
As a result of their unbelief, the Israelites were made to wander 40 years in the desert until the older generations had passed away. Caleb and Joshua, who stood up for God and believed him to be big enough, ultimately led the people into the promised land.
I like to think that I would have been better than the Israelites. That I would have been on the side of Caleb and Joshua in this. That I would have trusted God.
But then I remember how often I have failed to trust him through infertility. How I have tried to will myself to believe he can work a miracle in our life while also secretly doubting the possibility.
I’m not saying believing will mean never suffering, never struggling, never longing for something.
But I think maybe I need to examine the boundaries I’ve put on God. Do I think to myself, he can do A, but B is too much (or too far-fetched, or too unlikely)? Am I limiting him in my mind?
My God can best the giants. My God can knit together a baby in my womb. My God is big enough.
And I am foolish not to relinquish my own self-reliance.
One of the most difficult things about infertility is the sense of isolation that goes with it. As much as I truly appreciate having this blog and the blogs I follow to remind me that I’m not alone, I find myself wishing I could open up more with people I know well and trust. So, the to-tell-or-not dilemma keeps popping up.
As I wrote here, I still don’t feel I know anyone here in Houston well enough to share this part of our life. Prior to last week, we had told my bridesmaids, our parents, and DH’s grandparents (I wrote about that one here).
Before we came to Houston, DH and I had a really amazing group of friends in DC. When we met, none of us had children. Now we’re the only ones who don’t. I miss them terribly. And I’ve been feeling lonely and isolated, I think in large part because I miss the community we left behind. And while I’ve tried to keep in touch, I feel like it’s hard to have a genuine conversation without telling close friends what we’re going through (even vaguely). I am tired of faking it and pretending everything is so great in our lives when there are many days that I struggle with the burden of infertility.
DH and I talked and decided it was time to tell our closest friends in DC. He sent an email to a selective group of people last week to ask for their prayers. He wrote that we are hoping to be able to do infertility treatments in the spring. And (I learned later) my dear husband, who loves me and wants me to be happy, specifically asked the ladies if they would email or call me to help lift my spirits. It was a wonderful gesture and I was excited to hear from my friends, who I miss anyway, and to know they were supporting us through this.
Well, there is a positive side to telling people. One of my dear friends in DC called immediately after she got the email. She just listened. She didn’t offer any platitudes and she agreed that it sucked. She really said all the right things and made me so happy that we told our friends. Another friend, who lives abroad now, emailed to set up a time that she could call me to talk. What a huge gesture!
And there’s a negative side to telling people. We got the expected, “you can just adopt,” from one friend. I’m okay with that. It’s a well-meaning response even if it isn’t particularly well informed or helpful. But a lot of my friends haven’t even responded. It makes me feel like maybe I was overvaluing those friendships.
I talked to my MIL about this, and she pointed out that perhaps they just don’t know what to say. I can understand that. If you’re reading this and you know someone who is grieving or sick or in pain in some way and you care about that person, it’s okay if you don’t know what to say. Say you are thinking of them. Say it sucks that they are going through this. Tell them you’ll pray for them or that you’re sorry this is happening. Shoot, tell them you don’t know what to say. But I would encourage you to say something. Even if it is the “wrong” thing, saying something will let your friend know that you acknowledge her hurt. That you care about her well-being.
I’ve heard it said before that in times of crisis you find out who your real friends are. I’m not sure I wanted to know.
PS I realize this post makes it sound like I’ve been really down lately. And, well, I have and I haven’t. I can say honestly that I’ve been feeling so grateful for the many blessings in my life, that this journey has helped bring me closer to God than I’ve been in years, and that I’ve learned a lot. I can also say that IF hasn’t been as all consuming lately as it was at first. I think the loneliness would be an issue even if we weren’t dealing with IF. And I think maybe I need to spend more time in the sunlight (literally). But on balance, I’m really doing okay.
Dwell in Me 