So, Lord, do you remember how I always planned to be done having babies by the time I was thirty? I’m not sure why, except that my mother had her last one while in her mid-twenties so it seemed like a good plan.
I had no idea that one day I would be facing my thirtieth birthday without a pregnancy lasting longer than 6-8 weeks.
Tonight, as I was struggling through chores with a frozen water hose and a nosy heifer and a hissing cat, I felt a little like crying. Sometimes I feel like screaming but tonight it was just tears that bit at my eyes. Continue reading
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As with any list, every book here may not be helpful to you. Many were just what I needed, some I included because while they did little for me, others have shared how greatly they were impacted by them. You will quickly find that most are faith-based and there is a reason for that. As a Christian, I believe there is a unique way to look at trials in life– and I naturally turn to others who are also looking to God for answers.
This is not a list of books that offer ways to get pregnant, but rather, ways to deal with infertility from in the middle. Continue reading
She was infertile, like me. Yet, somehow, someway, God opened her womb and she bore children. But then they said no more. Impossible.
The last baby, he wasn’t suppose to be. The doctors said no, so we feared something was wrong, but it wasn’t cancer or questions, it was another son.
When we got the call, I sat down and cried. Great heaving sobs. Joy unspeakable. I scrawled into my journal, “It’s almost like something deep inside me sighed and said, Oh, yes, God IS good. I knew it, but I doubted. I’ve tried so hard not to, but I did.”
Something settled hard into me that day. I looked around with clearer sight. I saw things for what they were, instead of what the enemy was whispering. Continue reading
So many times I wondered, “Why, Lord?” Why the storm of infertility, why the pain of loss, why the trial of physical issues?
In the midst of it all, I truly felt as though God was sleeping while a furious storm (of hurricane proportions) swept through my life. What did I have to do to wake Him up?
I knew the God who commands the wind and waves was more than capable of calming the seas in my life. He could heal up my pain, ease my trials, touch my broken body. But He seemed to sleep on.
Did I need to pray more? Believe more? Why was God allowing this when I had surrendered all to follow Him? What more did He want?
I was reading through the Bible, searching desperately for an answer, and I read the story of the storm in Matthew 8. The disciples, fearing for their lives, woke up Jesus. “Oh, you of little faith,” He said to them, “why are you afraid?” That’s me, Lord, that’s me. I’m terrified. Won’t you wake up and calm this storm? Continue reading
The hallway of the maternity ward was empty. My shoes were squeaking against the waxed tile. My sister-in-law was in one of the first rooms. Her belly was round and she was calmly sitting, watching the monitor as a heartbeat jumped across it. A few minutes later another monitor located the second heartbeat. The twins were happily content to sit quiet in their mama’s belly.
It was evening, over forty weeks into the pregnancy, and we were all more than ready for the baby girls to arrive. Little did we know that it would be just two short hours before they appeared. Continue reading
Some evenings, my heart aches. It’s just a fact of life. Hearts beat, they bleed, they ache.
I ache for all that is wrong in me. The ways my-will rises and crashes within.
I surrendered it, you know. Years and years ago, under an ancient pine tree in North Port, Florida. I had been so angry, so livid, that God would ask me to give up what I wanted and accept-with-joy what He had for me. But I finally fell on my knees and gave up.
And then, little lessons, one after another. Friendships, plans, hopes, desires…
“Surrender,” He whispered in the damp, humid air. And I laid them down– built mini altars of faith. I knew the practice of faith in small things would prepare me for big things.
But how was I to know how big the things would become? And how was I to know that giving up my-will would mean surrendering my whole self?
I had no idea that I was embarking on a life-long journey toward learning to accept-with-joy.
I had always planned on motherhood. On middle-of-the-night feedings, hauling around car seats, wiping up spit-up, learning to change diapers one-handed. I studied all the tricks on getting littles to eat vegetables and the easiest ways to swaddle.
I was a teacher by nature. I learned the best by teaching others and motherhood seemed like the perfect fit. In teaching my children to know God, I would know Him better. Motherhood would please both Him and me.
The truth is that motherhood looked a certain way to me.
It involved a wedding and a 9-12 month wait. It involved a midwife and labor and a fresh squalling infant.
It didn’t involve a hormone crash, and years of silence. It didn’t involve a miscarriage and dreams that burned to ashes in my heart.
And because motherhood looked different than I expected, I almost missed it.
Oh, thank you, God, that You didn’t let me miss it. Continue reading