One-Note Nancy

I'm afraid I might be becoming a bit of a one-note Nancy.  I'm not sure if that's even a real phrase.  It is now, folks.

Babies. Fertility. Ovaries. Conception. Labor. Doula. Cyst. LH levels. Ovulation. I sometimes search for baby clothes on Amazon and add them to my cart for later.  

That note.  No, we're not actively trying to have a baby.  But I find myself researching things like, "Is it safe to have natural birth with ovarian cysts?"  But really, though.  Is it?  Can you...pop a cyst when you have a contraction?  Will labor make me lose an ovary?  

Train rides leave me too much time to wallow in my anxiety.  Today, I sat next to a very smart 8-year-old boy who told his dad that the new Wilson stop, when completed, will allow transfers from the Red to the Purple.  A few stops later, a young dad brought his 3-year-old daughter on board.  He carried her on but she got her own seat, and I could see the multi-colored speckled soles of her tiny sneakers.  She smiled and babbled and made funny faces at her daddy, and he made them back.  

I wanted to cry.  Out of joy for the sheer innocence and wonder these kids have.  Out of pride for this little genius sitting next to me.  Out of fear that I may never know what it's like to carry my own three-year-old anywhere.  

Because that's productive.

There's some sort of timeline in order.  I daily ask hubby if we can move the start date to today.  I try to chart my cycle so I can learn about my fertile and infertile days, and catch myself dreaming about accidentally conceiving.  Am I ready to be a mother?  Is he ready to be a father?  Will we be able to give our hypothetical child the love and discipline and nurturing and education they deserve?  Much of my time not dreaming about a child is spent worrying that I will mess it up, and hurt them forever.

As I type this, my right ovary is throbbing.  It's been complaining all day, and I do my best to ignore it.  

But every time I feel the stabbing pain, or the throbbing ache, or the pulsating pain that radiates through my legs - I mourn.  I imagine it's another kamikaze egg that imploded inside me.  Another egg that couldn't bear to be my child and just quit while it was ahead.  More proof I'm not fit to be a mother in so many ways.

This is how I Imagine my Ovaries.

Ah.  This wasn't meant to be some self-pitying rant.  Forgive me.  It's just the evil self-doubt trying to wrestle away my peace. 

In all honesty, I find it more difficult to confide in a loved one than to write this "open-for-the-whole-wide-world" blog.  I can talk to my husband about anything - he is my partner, he is my safe space.  And yet, this desire is difficult to voice.  I imagine I am worried of pressuring him into parenthood when he isn't prepared.  Or afraid that he'll tell me yet again that we are on a timeline and, "there's no reason to move that up." 

Ouch.  He's right in so many ways, but ouch. It hurts to hear that no matter how my heart aches, or my throat squeezes - it doesn't justify a change of plans.  But why do we make plans anyway?  God is the only One with a plan that actually works, that actually happens as it is designed.  Am I ready to learn what that plan holds for us? 

For all my verbosity, I can't find the words to explain this hurt.  I can describe in detail the fear of infertility.  I can delineate the advisable treatments for PCOS, and the means by which one can become pregnant.  I can cite the cost of an average domestic or international adoption.  I can rattle off the medical terms used to explain the state of my womb.  I even know if our insurance covers a Reproductive Endocrinologist.  But I don't know the name of this pain. 

I do know the name of Mercy.  I breathe in the warmth of Light.  I cry out to the Shepherd that I am lost.  And He gives me the words:

"But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord;

I will wait for the God of my salvation.

My God will hear me. 

Do no rejoice over me, O my enemy. 

Thought I fall I will rise;

Thought I dwell in darkness, the Lord is a light for me." 

Micah 7:7-8

Lord, I pray that no one who reads this ever has to feel the pain of their own body betraying their heart.  If they do, Lord, I hope they will turn to You to heal.  I beg of you to take this pain from me, if it is Your will.  I have faith in Your providence; in your ability to perform miracles; in your promises made to me.  You will never leave or forsake me.  When I feel forsaken, give me the strength to tell my enemy that I will rise in the Light.  Draw me nearer to you as you perfect me, no matter how painful it is to die to myself.  Help me to live my death daily, to put Your will over my own, to honor Your purpose above my wants, to trust Your plan before drawing mine.  Embolden me to live my life without fear, but with love and mercy and grace that is as wide and long and high and deep as the love of Christ.  

Amen. 

The Wait is Over: Part One

You might remember this recent post about waiting for God's timing.

Well, the wait is over.  For now.

We've gotten the chance to share the news with some of our family and friends, and it is probably a good thing to process this development by sharing it further.

To begin, I guess I should back up a little.

A few months ago, I was suffering from a seriously overwhelming case of baby fever.  There were tears, there were hurt feelings, there was serious doubt.  Not pretty.  I had this sinking feeling - a fear, really - that I would be infertile and that if we waited, we would be too old to enjoy our children or grandchildren.

I still have those lingering fears, for sure.  I think parenthood will just replace those with other, more urgent fears.

While I was having this baby-panic-attack, everyone on FB was getting pregnant.  With twins.  And their third baby.  And so on.  A few friends of mine were very pregnant and getting close to their due date.  I felt like my womb was the only empty one and it would forever be barren.  Granted, I knew in my mind that we weren't (and aren't) ready for children.  That didn't stop my heart from hurting and trying to urge me on to motherhood.

Jealousy is not flattering, by the way.  I learned this the hard way.

At some point in my fervent prayers, I felt God was telling me that He wasn't punishing me - that instead, He was trying to prepare me for the difficulties of parenthood.  And then He gave me some very hard-hitting examples of just how difficult it can be.

Within the week I had this realization, a friend became a first-time mom to a beautiful baby.  She messaged me, asking me to pray for her because she was having a rough time - the sleep deprivation newborns bring, the constant worries - she wanted to be a perfect mom from day one and it was harder than it looked.  I told her that (from my understanding) practice makes perfect and that she was doing great.  But my heart broke to hear her so distraught at that happy time.

The very next day, a dear friend informed everyone through FB that her son was diagnosed with a terminal illness.  My heart just fell to pieces.  I sobbed, my husband held me.  I called my mom.  It seemed so unfair, but my friend had faith of many, many mustard seeds.  This young boy is now undergoing treatment in the very *first* clinical trials for any treatment for the disease.

As his mom said:  "It's got God's timing written all over it."

And God was using these hardships (of my friends, not even my own trials) to mold my heart and prepare my soul.  I had no idea what He had in store for me, but I felt so loved and at peace with the knowledge that He was preparing me to be a parent someday.

I began praying, "God, please, anything that is selfish in me, anything that will make me a bad parent, tear it away from me.  Rip it from my hands, take it from my life so that I will be the kind of mother that would honor You in her life."

And He did.

Continue this journey at The Wait is Over: Part Two.

The Waiting Game

My very wise sister-in-law once reminded me that the Bible commands us most often to simply obey.  That's it - the most common command in the Bible.  It is not a command to honor your parents, to avoid lying, to wear your hair a certain way (although those first two are still pretty important, folks).

It is much simpler: Obey.  

One word with so much weight.

The Lord has brought me firmly into a season of waiting.  There is no shortcut, no way to go around this trial.  He has brought me to it, and He will bring me through it - eventually.  On His time, and most certainly not my own.  

Sorry if it seems I'm being vague here, but I'm not yet ready to share details.  I am still waiting on some answers myself, and I'm not interested in stirring up emotions until I am sure there is a definite need.  

When I pray, I ask God to give me eyes to see Him and a heart to listen to His will.  I ask big, huge things - like curing people of illness, or bringing change to a stubborn heart - because I believe that my God can do anything.  If I shy from asking Him for these monumental favors, then I am doubting His authority to grant them.  However - I always end with an acknowledgement that His will is better than my own, and His plan will glorify Him in ways I cannot imagine possible.  

And it has.  

This season of waiting has urged me to pray more frequently and more fervently.  Many times, I feel that prayer is the only thing I can actually accomplish.  When I feel trapped, I throw myself at my Lord's feet.  There is nowhere else to go.  I praise Him for drawing me nearer to Him, although my body protests in this life.  

Here are a few things I've learned in my prayers and reading during this time when I am adrift.  

1) My situation may change, but God never will.  He will continue to provide for me, to bless me, and to protect me.  His peace is sweeter in my uncertainty and His strength is greatest when I am unable to carry on myself.  Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. - Hebrews 13:8 

2) Although I cannot understand where this road is leading me, He knows every step.  I can trust God blindly because He not only knows the way - He designed this path specifically for me.  My only command is to walk it with trust in Him and Him alone, or I will surely make a misstep.  He is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path.  - Psalm 119:105.  

3) In this particular season, faith means going where I am called without understanding - and without question.  I may hesitate in this earthly body, but who am I to balk at God's plans for me?  Jesus said to Peter, "If I want him to remain until I come, what is that to you?  You follow me!"  - John 21:22 

4) Faith is essential to surviving this trial.  I must not lost hope, I must not lose my nerve.  Whenever I feel weak, I can hear the doubt creep into my mind.  My aching heart cries out, "Why, God?!?!  Why me?!?!?  What did I do to make you take your blessing from me?"  This is *very* dangerous territory to tread.  Yes, my heart aches.  No, I do not understand why.  But how can I justify accusing God?  What proof do I have that He has taken His blessing from me?  For all I know, God could be sparing me grief and heartache that my faith, and thus my soul, would not withstand at this time.  I feel darkness encroaching when I cry out this way, and I reject it.  I will not allow myself to be swallowed by darkness again.  Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.  - Hebrews 11:1 

5) God has a great inheritance planned for me.  I may never receive the news that I long to hear - but I will receive a place in Heaven.  I will walk by faith into the land which God has prepared for me.  I do not know what it holds - richness or poverty, abundance or famine, health or plague.  But I know that God has knitted me together with His strength for this very purpose and I am honored to carry this weight.  By faith Abraham, when he was called, obeyed by going out to a place which he was to receive for an inheritance; and he went out, not knowing where he was going.  By faith he lived as an alien in the land of promise, as in a foreign land, dwelling in tents with Isaac and Jacob, fellow heirs of the same promise; for he was looking for the city which has foundations, whose architect and builder is God.  By faith even Sarah herself received ability to conceive, even beyond the proper time of life, since she considered Him faithful who had promised. - Hebrews 11:8-11

6) I am never alone in this wait.  I have nothing to fear.  Have I not commanded you?  Be strong and courageous!  Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.  - Joshua 1:9 

What has God taught you by bringing you to a waiting room?  How have you drawn closer to Him in times of uncertainty?  

May God give you eyes to see His will, and a heart to hear it.  

Amanda