Love You

Love you.
The words tear at my heart.
Insatiable longing for who is not,
at least not yet.

Love you.
Echos again in my mind.
Ripping my heart open
for what is not mine
at least not yet.

Love you.
Whispered this time,
as through time and space
from some unearthly place.
As if to say it is not time,
at least not yet.

Love you.
In sing-song lilt,
almost painful to hear.
Yet peace is some how near.
A promise of forever, no more tears to endure
the day that has not come,
at least not yet.

What God does with My Tears

Infertility is the cause of many tears I have shed over the last five years. Sometimes I was so raw that I felt the tears would never stop. A flood from some deep dark place that would only ebb for a few hours and then break loose again. What is truly amazing to me is that God knows. He is there. The Bible tells us, He is the God of all comfort, but we often forget that He remembers our tears.

Psalm 56:8 (ESV) says, “You have kept count of my tossings; put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book?” The word tossings means a lamentation, or wandering. Haven’t you felt that way? Not knowing what to do next, not finding relief from the grief, wandering, tossing. Oh and God has kept count of it all. He knows what is going on inside you. He alone can truly say, “I understand.” Not only that, but He keeps our tears in a bottle. God holds our tears in a bottle to remember them, to memorialize our grief, and to let us know He cares. He doesn’t let one tear drop to the ground without catching it. Isn’t that wonderfully amazing? That the God who holds the universe together, the God that made the mountains, the oceans, the Grand Canyon, cares enough about me. A person made from dust and to dust I will on day return. I am like a dandelion, here today and gone tomorrow. Yet God keeps my tears I have shed because He cares for me! Not only does He keep my tears in a bottle, where they get mixed up and it is difficult to know if that one tear was for my children I will never hold or for the time I broke my arm. No He wants to know why each tear was shed. So He records it in His book. Oh some of the tears I may wish I never wasted. Tears over toys or sin I thought I needed. However most of those tears written down to see will be an amazing testimony of God with me. I cannot wait to get to heaven and see those tear records. My bottle of tears. Honestly I suspect my bottle will be quite smaller than others. I suspect that I have lived easier times than many others. Yet God doesn’t say that I will only keep the tears of those who really deserve to cry, no He will keep all our tears. Recorded for us to remember. In heaven we will have the full picture, we will see God’s glorious plan through the tears. What an amazing way to see God glorified – through our tears!

Are you crying tears of longing, grief, and pain today? As you cry remember God is gathering up those tears, writing them down, and loving you through this difficult time. When you can, thank God for His amazing gift of remembrance that we may glorify Him in our tears.

What to do with Longings

As I sat in church one Sunday I was distracted. There was a precious child sitting behind me with his grandparents. He was cooing, drinking a bottle, smiling, and laughing. I smiled and a tear developed in my eye as my heart constricted. I wondered how any of us make it through Sunday morning at church. There are always children. Children of every age and yet it is the babies, still bald and chubby, learning to pull up, cooing, and laughing out loud in great delight, that tear at my heart. I smile at their parents, but my throat tightens. I can hardly breathe. Father I say in my head, please remember me. Oh how I long to hold one of those, one who is mine, no matter the color, or sex. Just a baby that is mine. I manage to hold it together, but it is a battle throughout the service. I am blessed that I get to hug the children I do have after service, but I am also saddened as I walk past the baby rooms.

How do we do this thing? How do we live a life of longing? I am praying that every time I long for a child it drives me closer to God. It hurts, I do not understand, but I pray it drives me closer to Him. As I come closer to Him, I pray I let Him heal the other things in my life. My life isn’t perfect, I don’t have it all together nor do I do it all right. I mess up. In fact I mess up a lot. I am thankful for a forgiving God. I am also thankful that He will not finish perfecting me until He takes me from this world. So as I long, I pray I draw close to Him.

How do you handle the longing? What are ways that you make it through church or baby showers? Let me know so we can encourage each other.

Strength in Waiting

Isaiah 40:31 “but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”

So we are waiting for God to perform a miracle. Right? A miracle in our bodies, so we can have a child, a miracle in circumstance so that a precious child who needs adopted comes to our door, or a miracle in our hearts so that we are content with our current situation. As we wait, we pray. We sometimes beg, other times we timidly ask, still other times we may practically yell our requests. However we wait. We wait for God to move.

The amazing thing is that God promises to renew our strength as we wait on Him. More than that, as we wait, God wants to give us a new perspective of Him. So He mounts us on eagles wings. He promises that we will run and not be weary. Ladies, He wants us to serve Him as we wait. Whatever form it takes, let us be faithful to run hard after God. Let us never waste our waiting on sitting like a bump on the log.  However God isn’t done with us yet. On those difficult days when we just don’t have the energy to run, God promises us that we will walk and not faint. Ladies that means that on those hard days when we are struggling with God over our infertility. When we barely have strength to put on foot in front of the other, God is going to sustain us to keep us walking in Him.

In other words, as we wait, we grow in Him and we become stronger. I don’t know about you all, but I certainly could use more strength for the journey.

Father, thank You that as we wait for You, You will renew our strength. Father help us to wait on You and not on that pregnancy test or the next exam or the next blood draw. Help us to wait on You, on Your wisdom and Your direction. Father that our strength for the journey through infertility will come from You alone. In Jesus’ name we pray. Amen.

Dodging Arrows

I confess I am not always eloquent, nor do I much grace. I am a klutz who is too familiar with the taste of foot because I often find my foot in my mouth. When it comes to infertility it seems the world around us has foot-in-mouth disease. People say things that must seem funny or insightful to them, but feel like arrows piercing our aching hearts. At least that is how I have felt lately.

I have been dodging arrows. People hear I have three kids or see me with them and jokingly ask, “Are you ready for another.” They think I will quickly say, “NO!” They don’t know that I desperately want more and that I am sad that I have lost so many. I try to dodge the arrow, to pretend I didn’t hear or to laugh it off. Some days I answer, “I would like more, but I can’t have more.” Other days I even explain myself further. “Two of my three are IVF babies, but we don’t have any more embryos, so we can’t have more.” The explanation could drag on and on about the miracle I am praying for and waiting on God to accomplish. In the mean time I am dodging arrows.

Sometimes those arrows hit home and hit hard. I get mad or frustrated. I can really let those emotions drag me somewhere I don’t want to go. So instead I have been praying for wisdom and discernment. I have been praying that as I don the armor of God, I use it wisely. That the belt of truth will be my foundation, that the breastplate of righteousness will guard my aching heart. I pray my feet will be ready to go to spread the gospel regardless of my unruly emotions. I hold high that shield of faith because it helps me ward off the fiery darts Satan throws at me. I pray that my salvation will guard my mind as my helmet and that I will use God’s word as the sword of the Spirit in gentleness and love. (Ephesians 6:10-18)

Sisters, infertility is a battle we are walking through, but God didn’t put us on this battle field helpless, defenseless, or offense-less. We have Godly armor available for our use, as others toss hurtful, crazy, off-the-wall comments toward us. We have to choose to wear it and pray for wisdom about how and when to use certain parts of it.

Father God, we are longing for children and You have said no, at least for now. So we pray that You will give us the strength to don Your armor. Help give us wisdom about when to use Your sword and when it is time to dodge arrows. Father, we thank You that through Your power and wisdom, we do not have to face these hurtful comments alone. Thank You for Your love and provision. Amen.

What are some arrows you have and thrown your way lately? Share with me some of the crazy or even uneducated things people have said to you.

Contentment and Power

I have been praying for a miracle. A miracle within my body so I can somehow conceive another child naturally; or a miracle that lands an orphan on my doorstep ready for adoption, no strings attached; or the biggest miracle of all, the one in my heart for contentment for my current situation.

I am not talking about liking the fact that I cannot without a miracle from God get pregnant naturally. I can never fathom enjoying the fact that against my will, I cannot add another child to my family. I am talking about the contentment that is found in God alone. Not the kind that I muster up, denying my true feelings, and hold tight to because I am afraid if I breathe wrong I may blow the peace and contentment away. I am talking about the type of contentment that is contrary to my human nature. The type that says, “God I would prefer to have more children, I know You are able to do it, but Your will, not mine be done.” This type of contentment is the kind Paul connects with Christ’s power.

When I lay down my preferences, my plans, my dreams, my hopes, my directions for life, and I allow God to have His way in me, then I can have contentment in Him despite my circumstances. In Philippians 4:12-13 Paul writes, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.” So when I find contentment in Christ, I have His strength to do anything. Through contentment in Christ I have His power to face infertility. I have His power to not personalize comments that unintentionally pour salt on the wounds infertility has worn. Finding contentment in Christ empowers me to move beyond myself and my wounds, so that I can reach out to comfort others going through the grief and pain of infertility too.

Contentment in God empowers us to face infertility without tearing ourselves and our relationships apart. Christ’s power is ready and available to us. Are we ready to find contentment in Him?

Leave a comment about what you are struggling to lay down at God’s feet so you can find contentment in Him. I’ll be praying that God give you the strength to lay it down so He can empower you to face infertility. Bless you sweet sister!

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Anchor in the Storm

While trying to conceive, each month feels like a storm. The storm starts brewing as you plot and plan, watch and wait for the “perfect” time to baby dance. The clouds get darker and stormier as your hope increases because the timing was perfect. The winds start to howl as your hormones are whipped into a frenzy. The day has come and there is no sign of your monthly flow, you celebrate. As you head to the store (or cabinet) to get a home pregnancy test you ignore the first drop of rain, deciding it was only your imagination. As the urine dries on the stick, and there is no second line appearing, the storm breaks loose. You feel as if the walls around your house are closing in and a stick that says you are not pregnant is battering you. What is there to keep you safe from the storm of raging hormones, dreams deferred, and dashed hopes?

We who know Christ as our personal Savior, who trust in Him for our eternal security, have an anchor to keep us from being knocked off course. Despite the storm of possibility and dashed hopes, we have a hope that is secure. In fact Hebrews (ESV) 6:19-20 says, “We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf..” Our hope as children of God goes beyond ourselves and this world. This verse says we have a hope that is beyond the curtain, in the inner place. That is referring to the Jewish temple and the Holy of Holies. The Holy of Holies was where a holy God met with unholy man. After Jesus died for our sins, God tore the curtain to the Holy of Holies. Through Christ’s sacrifice everyone could have a personal relationship with God. Therefore our hope and our anchor is the cross in the most holy place, God’s dwelling place, heaven. We have the hope of eternal communion with God. That anchor, that hope, can keep us from dashing into the rocks of bitterness, anger, and self-pity.

When we cling to our anchor despite the storm, we can find true hope. Not hope that we will one day hold of child of our own. No, a hope that does not disappoint. The hope of eternity with a loving God who comforts, loves, protects, and understands our pain.

Thank You God for true lasting secure hope. Help us to hold tight to the anchor of hope you have for us, as the storm of being unable to conceive rages around us. Help us to rest in Your anchor, trusting You for our future, knowing You have a plan for us that is better than we could dream. Thank You for Jesus. Amen.

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Infertility and Relationships

Infertility often brings out the worst in us. Hurting and sad, we lash out and turn inward. We covet what others have and we have a difficult time entering their joy.

I remember vividly the day my older sister called me to tell me she was pregnant. Do not get me wrong. I felt excited for her. I was glad I would be an aunt again, but there was also pain. Pain that she had conceived easily, at least from my vantage point. Let’s be real. I was not a fly on her bedroom wall. I did not know how many months they had “tried” nor if she used some form of ovulation prediction. I just knew she was pregnant and I was not. I also knew she was pregnant naturally and natural pregnancy was not an option for me. I was already taking shots and on hormones for my first IVF experience. Those hormones were wreaking havoc on my emotional and mental health. I was a wreak. Add in my desperate desire to conceive and voila, instant craziness.

The pain was real and the joy was too. I continue to struggle with this dichotomy. I still wish away my ashes ofinfertility and my pain of loss. I hate that I get teary going to baby showers. I do not wish infertility on anyone. Oh, but my grief and pain still rear their ugly heads when baby announcements come. I struggle. I am joyful and I am sad. I am joyful for them and sad for me. I am sad for the me who could fully enter my friends’ joy. Yet there is something more. I am also more joyful than I had been for my friends. I realize it doesn’t seem to make sense, but it is true. I know the pain of being unable to birth a child. I do not want any of my friends to have to go through that pain. So although there is a pang of wow that hurts, when I hear of a friend who is pregnant, there is also more joy. I am more amazed at the miracle of conception and bringing a healthy child into this world than ever.

Yes, my relationships have changed because of my infertility. Being invited to a baby shower or hearing a friend is pregnant, not only brings joy, but it also brings pain. Sometimes the pain is so real, I choose not to attend the shower. Other times the pain is so mingled with the joy that I can go to the shower and fully enter my sweet friend or sister’s joy. There are even some times when pain is not involved at all. Those are the times I praise God for His miracle in my heart. I have discovered, when I am honest with my friend or sister at the appropriate time (not at the baby shower), that she will mourn with me as I rejoice with her. Thus together we fulfill what God tells us through Paul in Romans 12:15, “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.”

Father help us to enter into our friend, sister, co-worker’s joy as she has a child. Help us not to harbor jealousy or bitterness. Instead let us rejoice with her. Please give her an understanding and compassionate heart so that she may weep with us as we rejoice with her. Give us wisdom about how and when to discuss our pain with our friends. Help us to run to You with our pain, and rest in knowing that You can do a miracle in our lives, in our bodies, and in our hearts. We patiently wait for You. In Jesus’s name we pray. AMEN.

What Happened to the Nine?

I will be honest, the idea of having ten children, remember I had one living child prior to IVF, was frightening to me.  My first child was, well, strong-willed to put it bluntly.  So the idea of having nine more children with similar dispositions scared the wits out of me.  I wondered what God was thinking, and yet I also knew it was quite unlikely that all, much less most would survive.  I was conflicted to say the least.  I had friends tease me about having a basketball team of my own.  That was a true incentive for me since I LOVE basketball, but honestly I was hopeful and scared.  I didn’t know how many I could handle.  I cried often over what God would do with those precious babes.

My first transfer resulted in a pregnancy.  I was elated and yet there was loss even in the pregnancy.  You see both embryos implanted in my uterus.  However at about 8 weeks, I lost one.  I felt devastated.  I felt blessed.  Again, I felt conflicted.  I wondered if I could separate the loss and grief from the joy of being pregnant.  Grief and joy went hand-in-hand so often through this journey.  Joy that I didn’t die when my tubes ruptured, grief that I lost my babies.  Joy to have eggs harvested and embryos created, grief to lose some to stunted growth and others that did not implant.

I now see God’s sovereign hand all throughout the process.  When I didn’t understand, when I felt conflicted, He knew, He had a plan.  So now Dan and I have seven embryos left in a freezer two and half hours away.  It is actually surreal to wrap my brain around that.  I had babies, who were essentially in suspended animation for four years.  Periodically, when it was “time,” we would have them defrosted to transfer them to my womb.  You don’t need the sci-fi channel when you are doing IVF, you are living it.

So God blessed us with a beautiful baby.  Yes, her delivery was missing someone, her twin.  However her delivery was a God ordained miracle as well.  More about that later, first the other 7 babies…

My doctors agreed that waiting at least a year from delivery to another embryo transfer was best to allow my body to get back to normal.  You see, artificial hormones and I don’t get along.  If I thought I had morning sickness with my first natural pregnancy, then I had all day and all pregnancy sickness with my IVF pregnancies.  Regardless, it was time for another transfer.  My heart was heavy.  I wanted to get pregnant, yes.  I wanted to give each embryo a chance at live on the outside of a dish, yes.  I didn’t want to do shots, multiple doctors visits (two and a half hours away), and discuss what was going on with mommy to a precocious four-year old.  However, this was the journey God had me on, and this was the road I had to walk.

The first transfer was unsuccessful and full of grief.  My bad attitude seemed to have seeped into my uterus and no baby would want to implant in there.  However God brought hope again, the following month after the unsuccessful cycle, we tried again.  My four-year-old was in school at the time, and thus I had to warn her teacher about potential comments.  Comments like, “The babies in my mommy’s tummy died.”  The day I mentioned this to her teacher, she came home with a painting titled, “Mommy with babies in her tummy.”  Praise God, I listened to him and warned her teacher or she may have been calling DHS (Department of Human Services) on us.  This cycle was successful, but only one embryo implanted.  There was still grief.  Grief that there were only three more embryos waiting.  Grief that only one embryo implanted.  Grief that the previous cycle saw a loss of two precious babes.  However there was joy and the joy was a handsome boy.  Then there were three embryos.  That is another story.

It amazes me that God often uses joy and grief together.  One only has to look at the cross to see it.  Oh the grief and shame of my sin that caused my Savior so much pain.  However, joy comes in the morning when he rose victorious over the grave.  Jesus knew the pain he was to endure, He said, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.”  Luke 22:42  Jesus knew the ending, the resurrection, the victory over sin and death. However He also knew the grief and the pain.  He knew that God could take the grief, but if God removed the grief, the victory would not come either.  In great grief there is often great joy.  I am not saying I have some great astounding victory at the middle of this journey.   I don’t have it all figured out, but I do know that I am closer to God.  I know Him more fully.  I have more compassion than I ever dreamed I lacked.  God has brought great joy through the grief.  He has brought triumph through the tears.  Psalm 30:5b “…Weeping may last for the night, But a shout of joy comes in the morning.”

For those of you in the night, I am praying for a quick return of the morning.