Dwell in Me

Seeking God in the Every Day


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For Such a Time as This

I haven’t talked much about anything but infertility and how that’s affecting us here, but here’s a little backstory about how life doesn’t go according to our plans–with a little admission that sometimes those deviations from our plans for ourselves turn out to be better than we expect.

DH and I met in college. We were both economics majors. And his goal was to be an economics professor. He didn’t feel that his BS had prepared him sufficiently for the PhD, so we headed to DC where DH got an amazing job at the Federal Reserve Board–about the best possible place to work if you want to go to graduate school in economics.

He took one to two math classes at night each semester until he had the equivalent of a bachelor’s in math, too.

Last fall, he sent out applications. And we waited.

Believe me when I tell you that DH is an incredibly intelligent, hardworking, and dedicated person. His resume for grad school was top-notch and his recommendations were from some wonderful people in his field. I’m sure his recommendations were stellar, too. The only person I’ve ever known not to like my husband is a girl at his office who has complained that their boss shows him favoritism. What she calls favoritism most people would call respect for a job well done. 

By all accounts, DH should have been accepted into a great program with funding.

That didn’t happen.

With the wisdom that comes with time, we’d both tell you right now that the way our lives got rerouted was for the best. DH will tell you it’s a miracle he didn’t get into grad school. God brought us to Texas (where we’d both said we’d never choose to live), and DH went to school to study math full-time at A&M for a semester before he ended up getting his current job here in Houston. The job pretty much fell into his lap, and he loves it.

I guess all that should be helping us trust God in our current situation. I think it is helping, when I think about it. God hasn’t taken us on any wrong turns yet; He’s never let us down. But how easily I forget that he is in control, that he is guiding us and has been guiding us all along.

The whole grad school thing was hard for us, and it was hard for DH’s parents. It was hard for them (as it was for me) to see their boy deal with all those rejection letters. When it came time for us to go to A&M, DH and I had a lot of peace about it. After months of anxiety about what we were going to do, the day DH sent his application in to A&M the anxiety was lifted. I don’t think his parents had that same peace at the time. It took them a few months–maybe until DH got the unexpected job offer–to really come to terms with the new direction our life was going.

When we told his parents about our infertility struggles, I know they were wondering why God would put us through something so devastating so soon after the last difficult test. We were wondering too, honestly.

Yesterday I got this e-mail from my MIL. I’m glad she’s feeling better about things, and I found her words encouraging. Her e-mail is a good reminder that God is sovereign and he’ll see us through this.

I have just got to tell you guys that my whole thinking on the [infertility] matter has taken a turn. . . . Now, instead of questioning God, I am thanking him for orchestrating the moments and details of your lives to get you here into Houston for this time in your lives. The whole time we were wondering WHY? about the grad school business and the econ professor path . . . He knew that you needed to be here; in Houston; . . . a location that is monetarily beneficial, in a good-paying job. God didn’t wish this [infertility] stuff on you, but knew about it (since he knew all about you before you were born), and he has orchestrated your life with perfect precision to get you right where you need to be . . . for such a time as this!

“And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14 (I know this was so she could free her people, but I do think it applies here too).

Lately I’ve been feeling better about our infertility. I’m glad DH’s mom is feeling better, too. I tend to forget that this IF thing affects our families, too. It’s such a deep personal issue that it’s hard to see how other people we care about are also hurting and questioning why we’re going through this.

I still have some really terrible days, but on the whole I feel more at peace with what we’re dealing with. I’d still like that miracle healing, and I am so hopeful that we will be able ot have biological kids. But I’m okay with where we are right now. Ask me tomorrow and I might scream and yell and cry, but today I’m doing well.

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The Secret Life of Infertiles

We moved into our house in June, and we’re just now starting to get to know people in our community. We joined a great church and found a small group of young married couples. Since we’re in Texas, it seems like everyone has kids pretty early. Most of the couples in our group have been married right around a year and the next closest couple has been married three years. One couple got married in February and is already expecting their first child. Needless to say, DH and I feel a bit old to be young and married with no kids, and we’ll have been married five years this December. Of course, we’re not old; I’m 28 and he’s 27, but I guess we’re behind schedule by Texas standards.

I feel I get asked all the time why we don’t have kids yet or when we’ll have children. I find such questions infuriating. It’s so personal anyway, and, frankly, you never know if the person you’re asking has been trying–as we have–for some time. DH jokes that next time someone asks we should point out how personal the question is by responding with something like, “I don’t know when we’ll have children, but do you want to be in the room when we conceive?” I’m not at all sure I could pull that one off, but it at least makes me smile when I think of it.

Of course, when it comes down to it, we do want to have children. We’re over a year into TTC and I thought I’d be a mom by now. The hard part is knowing when to share that and when to keep it in. When we first started TTC, we told my mom and three of my good friends. Now that we know we won’t be able to conceive without medical assistance or a miracle, I kind of wish no one knew we had been trying in the first place.

Today I had my first friend-date since we moved; I met up with a woman from our small group and we had coffee together at Starbucks. We sat outside and chatted for a couple of hours, and it was lovely to have someone to talk to. She didn’t ask the dreaded question, but we’re at that stage in life where having children seems the next logical step. I know in the past, many of the things I said today would have been peppered with “when we have kids.” Now they’re “if we have kids.” And I guess I kind of made it sound like I was indifferent either way, like, maybe we’ll decide to, maybe we won’t. I didn’t mean to do that, but I have trouble knowing how to have a normal, honest conversation about life and plans without throwing our infertility out there. And I’m not ready to let just anyone know about our infertility. Maybe someday, but not yet.

I hope my new friend didn’t find my comments too out of place or odd. She probably didn’t.  I’m probably just overly conscious of this giant part of my life that is undisclosed. I’m not good at having secrets, but I’m also not ready to share.