03 July 2008

heart talk

This post is a long time coming. Like every time, I procrastinated in getting it up here b/c of the constant struggle I have with sharing.

I am plugging along with the infertility issues. I think that I have gone through more emotions with God in the last several months than I have in my whole lifetime. I've been angry, hurt, depressed, amazed, joyful, and so much more. It has been and continues to be the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Being a mother has not only been what I have always wanted,it's the only thing I've ever been absolutely sure about. Even though I haven't yet had kids, I almost feel like I already am a mother, as weird as that sounds. So to be presented with the possibility that I might not be who I always thought I was, is quite a life shattering revelation. When I finally faced up to the possibility that I may never have my own children, it was a very, very dark day. All of a sudden my future looked bleak and I wasn't sure I really wanted it anymore. Ever since that day, I have been looking forward to the day when I move past this, when I can look back on this trial and empathetically share it with someone else who is going through something similar. When I can look at my child and smile, thinking about the pain that brought me to this place.

That's when the next wall hit. I realized that this pain may never go away. Never. In a conversation I had with a friend who went through the same trial of infertility, she told me that for her, the pain has never gone away. She has a baby girl now and she said that obviously she is happier than ever, but when she has conversations like these, it brings her right back into the middle of the pain and she remembers it and experiences it like she never left it. At that point I thought, okay, so the pain may never leave, so I guess I need to get to the point where I'm okay with that. How in the world do you come to the point where you say, Yes, I understand that this thing that I have always wanted, this thing that not having it causes more pain than ever, may never be in my grasp. I may always wish for something I can never have for the rest of my days. I understand this, and it's okay. Wow!! I actually came to a point where I told God that He may be telling me that I need to get to that place, but I didn't want to get there. Ever. I don't give up easily, and I never have. And to come to the point where I'm okay with the fact that this may never happen for me felt like I was giving up. I think that I am finally coming to the point where I am searching God and willing to "work it out" with Him.

I am realizing that letting go is not giving up. One of my previous posts was a verse, Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know the plans I have for you", declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." This is the verse that I have been claiming in the last couple weeks. I have been in contact with a very dear friend who has been such a gift. We both are going through this time and while I know we both would love to see the other be blessed with a child, it is comforting to know that someone else is experiencing this hurt too. It's good to know I am not alone, and it's good to know there is someone praying for me who knows exactly how I feel. She said something to me in an email that really encouraged me. Rather than butchering her words I will post her words here, with the use my friends, Copy and Paste...

When you look at the verse (Jeremiah 29:11) in context, the Lord gives them (Israel) a series of commands in vv. 5-7 that seem kinda ridiculous. Build houses, plant gardens, eat, marry, have chldren and grandchildren, pray for Babylon.

Pray for Babylon? Why? "For in its welfare, you will have welfare," He says. These people were under a death sentence. They'd be in captivity for 70 years - none who were alive at the time would see Jerusalem again. But He said, "I have plans...for your welfare." I, like them, probably, often think that my welfare will happen when I'm on the *other* side of the trial, when it's over, when I'm out of captivity and back in Jerusalem. But not according to this passage. The Lord's plans for their welfare start NOW, while they're IN Babylon.

We don't have to define God's goodness as after we're finally fertile and pregnant and a new life is growing in us. God's goodness, because He IS goodness, doesn't stop and start. He just IS good, all the time. And His plans for our welfare INCLUDE the "captivity" of infertility...if we will just see it with new eyes.

Not that infertility isn't painful. Of course it is. I battle the rising hope every day that maybe, just maybe, it'll happen on the first try. I'm sure it won't, but what if...? But God is still good right now. Even if I can't see it, I know it's true, and I have to trust in that."


I have been yearning for the time that God will bring me out of this b/c then His blessings for me can continue, but that was totally the wrong perspective. He has a perfect plan for my life, and that plan includes this trial. I don't have to just "get through" this trial to learn what I need to learn. His timing is perfect and good, His plan for me is perfect and good. His plan for me is not to harm me, but to prosper me, to give me hope...HOPE! and a future. God is good, and He always keeps His promises. He does not promise that it won't hurt. Things on this earth are twisted, difficult, and hurt like hell, but we do have hope.

Despair is such a vise. When I'm in it I don't think I can ever possibly be joyful. But I can! I can claim God's promise that He will never leave me, that He knows my hurt. To quote my sweet friend again,

Grief doesn't equal a lack of acceptance of God's plan, either. This is something that only works in God's economy: you can cry and still be joyful. Obviously not happy, but joy isn't happiness.


So, through the tears, through month after month of not conceiving, I will be joyful. I choose to be joyful, because my God is bigger than infertility. I will serve Him with my broken self, because that is the way He wants me to come to Him. Just as I am.

3 comments:

  1. I love you, Susie! Praying for you...

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  2. Although I have never faced infertility issues, my older sister did. I saw what it did to her for years. She grieved. All she ever wanted was to be a mom. Just like you! When it I started to desire children, I was so afraid! What if it "ran in the family"? I worried I would have to walk her road. I didn't have to. I don't know why, as I do not deserve the two that God gave me. My first child was a blessing in more ways than you would think. With my first pregnancy came the "blessing" of health issues....then my second...and more (blessings) health issues...and I continue to sit in that "room" of health issues. Those health issues forced me to have to go through a hysterectomy in my 30's....I grieve for the children that may have been...but were not God's plan. I am thankful for what He has given, but still sense a loss. These trials have been used to do amazing things in my heart! That is a blessing.

    Through all of this I have become convinced that it is possible to sing "Whatever my lot thou has taught me to say, 'It is well! It is well, with my soul!'...and still have tears in our eyes! There is the will that chooses to accept God's plan. There is also the human emotion that we cannot separate ourselves from. The tears. They are there.

    It's a minute by minute, walking through the valley, trusting...

    I don't know what your future holds. I will pray that God's grace will be poured out on you that you might be able to make it through today...then tomorrow...then the next day...

    Keep clinging!

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  3. Susan,
    I love you and am praying for you! I miss you and our old good times together. Maybe we'll get to be roomies in heaven for a few thousand years or so just for old times sake! :) Now there's a scary thought I know.....Renee alphabetizing your CDs for an eternity! haha.
    Know that I read your blog each time you post and care and love you despite the miles separating us.
    Hugs and prayers,
    Renee

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