I Lift My Hands

I like organizing my life. I like lists. I like instructions.  I like predictability. I like structure. I like planning. I like knowing (re: hate surprises).  When starting this fertility journey, I had NO idea how much I'd learn that this would have to go out the window if I really wanted a child.


In the infertility community, there's a term people use. TWW.  It stands for "two week wait," referring to the two weeks between ovulation and when you can expect a period (or hope NOT to get one).

For a type A, control freak like myself, the two week wait is excruciating.  Not in an emotional way, but frustrating in a humbling way.  It's a period of time when there is literally NOTHING we can do to help things along.  You can eat things, drink things, time intercourse, lift your hips afterwards, use the right positions, take vitamins, etc.  But once the "deed" is done, you're done.  There is nothing a woman (or man) can do to make conception more likely to take place.  And that fact is extremely humbling.

This two week wait window is an opportunity to trust.  To lay myself bare and show God that I trust His goodness.  That He will take care of me during the two weeks and beyond.  It must be a constant walk though.  Not a talk, but a walk. A belief in my heart.  That's extremely difficult, since sin has created a selfishness inside me, wanting things my way in my time.  But deep down, the Holy Spirit speaks and calmly prods, "But truly, isn't His idea of what's best what you really want? Not your idea of what's best?"  He's proven that He's a far better type-A planner than I could ever imagine.  You are faithful, God. Forever.

"Be still, there is a healer
His love is deeper than the sea
His mercy, it is unfailing
His arms are fortress for the weak

Let faith arise
Let faith arise

I lift my hands to believe again
You are my refuge, You are my strength
As I pour out my heart
These things, I remember
You are faithful, God, forever"

All This Time

I've been saying for awhile that this particular month felt like a turning point in our fertility journey.  I wasn't sure what would happen, but God made it CRYSTAL clear that we were to WAIT and trust.  And this month the wait was over.

We had to go to the urologist to get the results of the Hubby's varicocelectomy.  I'm the type of person to get my hopes up.  For this though, I had the opposite mentality.  I wasn't expecting wonderful news or terrible news. I was expecting how-hum-nothing's-really-changed-grey-area-now-what-do-we-do news.

We sat down with the urologist and at the end of his introductory sentence telling us about the results he said the phrase "much better."  I was floored by the dramatic increase in certain test results.  I mean amazed.  Of course, there will be yet another follow up in a few months, but sitting there in his office, I could hardly feel my toes.  God had come through.  Like He promised.

Remember the necklace He gave me, showing me He's got it and I need to hang on a little longer?
Remember those FIVE people we reconciled with where God showed us that we need to trust Him because He's been taking care of us for a LONG time?

All those trials and tests and situations were steps to get us exactly where we are today.

I'm not picking out baby names or doing a registry, but yet another step gave us another glimmer of hope.  He keeps reminding us that He's been with us in this process all this time.  He's still in charge, clearly. I'm merely along for the ride.  And in awe while He does what He does best.

"Ever since that day, it's been clear to me
That no matter what comes, You will never leave
I know You're for me
And You're a story

Every heartache and failure, every broken dream
You're the God who sees, the God who rescued me
This is my story

All this time, from the first tear cried

'Till today's sunrise
And every single moment between
You were there, You were always there
It was You and I

You've been walking with me all this time"

Gratitude

I wrote this post a little while BEFORE my last post but saved it instead of publishing it since it seemed a little personal.  However, after rereading it and my last post (see: "Everywhere"), this post now makes so much more sense in hindsight.  I think it's important to be transparent and share honestly for the sake of growth, both for me and others, so here it is.  If you haven't already, I encourage you to read the other post first.

16......
Some of the hardest days are the days when you know your period is coming.  You begin to get the symptoms that you always get. For each woman it's different.  Mood swings, bloating, cramps, tender breasts, crying.  The signs come in many forms.  But what it does to a woman struggling with fertility is the same.

It's crushing. There's really no other word for it.  You desperately want to cling to the hope that you may still be pregnant. But deep down you know.  You know your body best and can read the writing on the wall.  I often find that in this time I struggle with guilt.  Am I not trusting that God still COULD make me pregnant? Or am I being realistic?  This is truly a emotionally draining fews days, for me at least.

16....
We have been trying to conceive for 16 cycles.   That number shocks even me as I type it.  That means I've gone through this process 15 times. The waiting. The deep-down knowing of the yet unconfirmed.  While I've done it 15 times, and it's tremendously difficult, those days don't last forever.  There's always a new day.  A new chance.  A new lesson.  A new hope.

I recently reconnected with a friend, who suggested a song to me that she felt encouraged by.  It's a song about finding gratitude and hope even in the darkest of moments.  Even in the droughts of our hearts. Even in the sorrow.  The Lord has blessed each and every one of us.  There's a message of hope, forgiveness, rebirth, peace in every situation God has put us in.  While it's ok to feel overwhelmed and cry and not quite understand, it's important to step outside ourselves and see the whole picture He is painting, even if we can't see it right that second.  We should trust that He still has the brush.  Because He IS painting it.  And He isn't finished yet. As Mark Schultz, one of my favorite Christian artists sings, "You never said it would be easy, but You said You'd see me through the storm."
"Send some rain, would You send some rain?

'Cause the earth is dry and needs to drink again

And the sun is high and we are sinking in the shade

Would You send a cloud, thunder long and loud?

Let the sky grow black and send some mercy down

Surely You can see that we are thirsty and afraid

But maybe not, not today

Maybe You'll provide in other ways

And if that's the case . . .

We'll give thanks to You

With gratitude

For lessons learned in how to thirst for You

How to bless the very sun that warms our faceIf You never send us rain"

Emotions can often cloud our perception and objectivity in situations so that we aren't ready to see what God wants us to see.  Or perhaps God uses it to prevent us from seeing a lesson until the timing is right.  Shortly after this post was written, God showed up in a very special way, that was for me and me alone.  He did exactly what I wrote about days earlier:  He showed me how He's still painting. He's still in control.  And for that, I'm eternally grateful.

Everywhere

I was on Pinterest a few weeks ago and saw a picture of a very cute necklace.  I went searching online to see if I could find one locally and it was nowhere to be found.  The only place I could find it was Etsy.com, which is a site where people make their own stuff and sell it.  The ones on there were expensive and even though I love it, I decided I would wait to get one.  See, it was 2 lovebirds on a branch and the ones on Etsy, you can get letters printed on leaves that hang from the branch.  Adorable.  So I figured I would be patient and wait until either a) I got pregnant or b) knew I would never get pregnant and could therefore afford it. I put it out of my mind since that was my decision.

I was at Target this morning and perusing the jewelry section for a completely different item when I look down and there's the necklace.  Exact. Same. Necklace.  At a price that was ridiculous, in a good way.  I was so stunned.  I picked it up, waited until I got out in the car (after paying of course) and started to cry.

Seems ridiculous, right?  But here's what it felt like: God gave me a gift.  It was a way for Him to tell me I was important or special.  But as I drove away, I realized it was even deeper than that.  He knew a deep desire of mine. Without me having to say a word.  I never told a single soul about that necklace. Why would I?  It was a desire that I kept to myself.  But He KNEW.  He knew without me asking or saying a word.  That's a tremendously overwhelming feeling.  Especially in the midst of something as huge as fertility struggles.  To have Him give me this scenario is Him gently whispering, "Trust me.  Hang in there a little longer.  I've been hearing you this whole time.  Just trust me because I love you."

It may seem foolish to get so emotional about a necklace.  And yeah it probably is.  But it's what it symbolizes to ME that makes it significant.  HE knew it would mean something for me to find that.  And He knew I needed it right then.  This week has been particularly difficult and for the first time in the process, I've felt inklings of wanting to give up.

This small gesture has encouraged me to hold on with Him until He's done, whichever way it turns out.  I'm extremely moved that my Savior loves me enough to speak to me, encourage me in ways that are unique to ME.  He's everywhere I look, as long as I keep my eyes open, looking for Him.

"You’re every time I turn around 

In every sound
You’re in the very air I breathe
You’re up above
And now I know
You’re in my soul
You’re in the very depths of me

And every step I take
I take by faith
Oh and now I see

I believe"