Embracing This Place

I really enjoy being a Mama. It is a brutal, amazing, humbling, rewarding, life giving, exhausting, beautiful and frustrating calling. Even when it's hard I am so grateful for the opportunity, the experience and the serious spiritual/character development motherhood has brought to my life.

 

And I as I stand at the end of my 30s, looking at the not-so-little people growing up before my eyes I am struggling with this being 'it.' Am I really done with Kindermusik, smocked dresses, finger paints and preschool soccer forever?

 

We never intended to stop having children after the triplets. I declined the suggested tubal during my C-section because we were open to God blessing us with a spontaneous pregnancy. (That's what we fertility veterans call old-fashioned 'natural' conception that doesn't require intervention.) But as a result of my heart failure, a subsequent pregnancy was forbidden by multiple doctors. I have a greater than 50% chance of recurrence with a more devastating prognosis--including death--from pregnancy. 

 

I am an advocate for foster kids and have been actively involved in ministries supporting them since before my children were born. I mentor, transport and love on foster kids--but it has not been a call my husband and I have felt yet for parenting them in our home. Several years ago we even attended the training to be approved, only to discover at that time we were disqualified by the number of small children we already had.  That door (for now?) is closed.

 

As I've experience 'the itch' for another off and on, while not having the certainty of a mutual calling within my marriage, it has led to some soul searching about my motives for 'wanting' another.

 

The answers have often been an interesting look into the condition of my heart.

After our journey through infertility, a complicated pregnancy and a highly unusual baby stage I just wanted a chance to raise one and enjoy the ride a bit more than the 'drinking from a firehose' experience I had with triplets. It just seems so idyllic.

 

Recently I was talking to my husband about my renewed interest in a toddler (because, honestly, I am too old for middle of the night feedings and require 8-9 hours sleep.) As we were discussing my desire, I tearfully confessed I just wanted another chance--a do-over--a chance to put into practice the 1000s of lessons I have learned so far.

 

My husband, with great wisdom and tenderness, looked right in my eyes and said, "It's not too late with the three God has given us."

 

And I realized he was right. I have no idea what God has in mind for our family down the road, but for now, we are five. And instead of escaping the hard days TODAY by overly romanticizing what a do over might look like. I must accept the reality, subsequent children would have their own bend. We would have to learn them--and in the process relearn ourselves--through the assured sanctification each trip down the road of parenthood requires.  

 

I have a beautiful life with people I adore. My boundary lines have fallen in pleasant places.

 

As if on cue, I came across this quote last night:

Wherever you are in your parenting journey, be Present in it. Embrace today and savor where you're at." -Rachel Anne Ridge" via Twitter

 

And so, on this gorgeous Saturday, I will embrace the Legos that now cover our old train table, the comic books that have taken over the board books, and the smelly socks that I wash now instead of smocked john johns.

 

I get to sleep through the night, have delightful conversations about the differences in red-tailed hawks and peregrine falcons. My children can help around the house. We go on adventures and travel pretty light. They tie their own shoes and wipe their own bottoms. Most of the time, they love me well. There are many gifts to this season.

 

This is my God ordained life--and when I pause to really drink it in instead of missing it by daydreaming about something else-- it is good.

When the Answer is No

I got an email today that took me back to a tender bruise on my heart. A mother of three was writing about her disappointment and sense of loss over discovering that despite her and her husband's desires to have more biological children, her womb appears to be closed for business.

I have another friend struggling with infertility right now as well. She has yet to bring a child to term.

I can identify with them both.

When I discovered that I would be unable to conceive without medical assistance (and that was not guaranteed) I mourned. I mourned that it wouldn't get to be surprising, random and miraculously joyful. Something so natural was going to become clinical, scheduled and emotionally trying. Pardon my frankness, but I mourned that I would never just skip a cycle, tee tee on a stick and get to creatively break the news to my husband. I wanted the fairy tale.

What I didn't know when I received the news of my ovarian issues was that I would get my own kind of surprise (triplets!) and because of the very struggle I had dreaded it would feel even more miraculously joyful. It has been a very different kind of fairy tale.

In the months leading up to the delivery of my children my OB asked if I desired a tubal while he was already operating (during the C-section.) My husband and I declined. Many, many women overcome infertility after a successful pregnancy. We had no intentions to use reproductive assistance again, but wouldn't it be just like God to surprise us with another miracle baby, spontaneously conceived after our trio? We hoped so.

After my cardiac issues were addressed I was informed that I had a 50% chance of death with a subsequent pregnancy. A tubal was scheduled for as soon as my heart could handle the surgery. It felt like getting another infertility diagnosis. All of my hopes for a second chance at the fairy tale were crushed.

I had several well intentioned people attempt to comfort me with the reminder that I should "praise God for three healthy children." While I certainly agree that there is MUCH to be thankful for--I don't think you can really understand the mourning that happens (regardless of how many children you have) when the decision is just MADE. So much of a woman's identity, role, dare I even say worth seems to be connected to our womb. Knowing that a chapter is closed takes some getting used to.

Tonight as I was thinking about all this I was reminded that fertility is just one example of the many losses people mourn--the chapters that get closed for us--the fairy tales that we don't get to live out. Sometimes God just says No.

May we never forget that His plans are not random. His Sovereign Will is not arbitrary. He has a purpose. In the words of Beth Moore, "Every No from God is because there is ultimately a better Yes."

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. Isaiah 55:8 (NIV)

Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the LORD's purpose that prevails. Proverbs 19:21 (NIV)

Opening A Can of Worms

Fertility issues are so deeply personal and unique to each family's situation that I have purposefully stayed away from that topic (for the most part) on this blog. I have written about it only twice in almost 4 years. The recent fallout from the 'Octo-Mom' situation in California has brought so many feelings to the surface--and cast fertility treatment in such a negative light--that I feel compelled to address it.

As I have mentioned before my husband and I discovered very early in our marriage that conception was going to be very difficult for me. I was diagnosed with PCOS and it was determined that my body did not ovulate regularly (if at all). Since the production of eggs is essential to the conception of children, medical assistance would be required if my body was to become pregnant.

We prayerfully struggled with what God's Will was for our family. We both desperately desired to be parents, but we did NOT want to 'take the reins from God' and attempt to manipulate the outcome of our family life. We approached each step of the journey with much thought, consultation and prayer. I won't attempt to outline the place God brought us to on each of the specific issues (for the sake of privacy and because I do not want to send any sort of message that our decisions were 'right' and others are 'wrong.') I will mention, however, that if you have never walked this road, it can be easy to overlook the many slippery slopes concerning how far is too far in assisted reproduction.

My sister-in-law, Amy, had some of the most comforting words for me during our contemplation of our options. She drew a parallel between my use of medication to conceive and any other use of medication to help one's body do what it was designed to do. Your body is designed to fight infection, afterall. When it doesn't do you hesitate to use an antibiotic to help your body do its job? Do you just lay down and decide this infection must be God's Will to take your life?

We elected to use medication to remind my body how to ovulate. The first few times we tried, it did not work. The medication that finally worked, really worked and my out of sorts ovaries overdid it a bit. The result was three precious children.

We did not use IVF, primarily because we were hung up on the issue of what to do with leftover embryos. As pro-lifers, we firmly believed all embryos would be our children--and therefore might find ourselves with an extremely large family. It is a dangerous game to start playing 'what ifs' because changing the variables changing everything. Yet, I cannot help but ponder the predicament we would have been in had I been forbidden to get pregnant again due to my heart condition and we had leftover embryos to implant, donate or destroy. (I actually know of someone this happened to who had to employ a surrogate to transfer their remaining eight embryos over 2 pregnancies. None of them took.)

Then there is the issue of adoption. This strikes particularly close to my heart, as I have such a burden for foster children, but through much prayer, God did not draw us there initially. So far, He seems to have the plan for our family to involve supporting the greater system of fostering teens, rather than bringing them to live in our home.

I confess that I feel really guilty about this quite often. Do people perceive that we wanted to 'design our own babies' as opposed to adopting potentially damaged goods? I would really like to foster, but for now, that door is closed for us. I must trust that just because something is a 'good thing' doesn't mean it is a 'God thing' at this season in my life. I am reminded that we each have different paths through this life. God calls us to different things. I know our hearts. Should that be enough to bring me peace?

I have spent the last 5 years watching people's twisted expressions as they ask questions about how our triplets came to be. Their body language and their words often convey their own beliefs about the road we travelled. It is particularly offensive when I am asked if my children were 'natural' or 'a miracle' (through smiles) or did we 'use those drugs?' (with an uncomfortable expression) as if one somehow negates the other.

I am taken back to the Psalms and the reminder that God, and God alone, knit my children together in my womb. He designed them--not me. He breathed life into their bones and He has a plan to achieve glory and honor through their lives. That knowledge is enough for me.

Barren

I watched an old Oprah tonight about a woman facing her 4th year of infertility--and it hit me much harder than I thought it would. As this precious guest, Jenna, was talking about how she felt using words like bruised, ashamed, disappointed and frustrated I just wanted to hug her and say, "I know." It brought all the tears I shed and desperate prayers I prayed right back to the surface.

At one point Jenna said she feels so ashamed because 'having babies is what a woman is supposed to be able to do--it is the one function a woman's body is designed to do that a man's is not.' I can remember saying that exact thing. I felt like I owed my husband, especially, a huge apology. He was never anything short of supportive, but I felt terrible that he had unknowingly married a reproductive lemon.

I remember well-intentioned, kind people making ill-informed statements that were supposed to make me feel better--but wound up making me feel more alone and misunderstood. No one could 'fix' me except God and He was choosing not to intervene in the way I desperately wanted Him to.

I rarely talk about my infertility because I am not a wallower. I don't advocate living in the past. I like to move on. I do, however, think it is necessary to periodically revisit the places where God has delivered you from, if for no other reason than to fully appreciate the gifts we have been given. God eventually answered my prayer for offspring--and He answered it abundantly. This family that exhausts me and pushes me to my limits is nothing short of a God-given miracle.

But what if He hadn't answered me the way I wanted? God does not answer every prayer specifically as requested like some sort of Divine short order cook. I must be careful to not equate His goodness with how large my bank account of blessings is (or isn't). He is who He is. He does what He does and He is the same God in times of plenty and in times of want.

I am in the middle of reading Job in my quiet times. It is a poignant reminder of God's ability to give lavish gifts and allow times of pain and agony in our lives. Do we understand His methods or His purposes? Not always.

All I know is that the fire He has brought me through so far has been for His glory and my refinement...and tonight that is enough for me.

Infertility

He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children. Praise the LORD. Psalm 113:9

I have never really written about our struggle with infertility, primarily because I am not one to dwell on the past. I prefer, instead, to move forward full of faith for the future. I have a dear friend going through her own difficult journey to motherhood and it has caused me to spend a lot more time remembering my feelings from those dark days.

Yesterday our Bible Study discussed God's covenants to Abram in Genesis. I thought a lot about God's promises to Abram about decendants and how the fulfillment of that promise defied "common sense."

We also noted how many times God told Abram, "Do not fear." This was evidence that he was fearful. He was human!

Thankfully, we discovered my reproductive health problems shortly after we were married. My journey was not marked by YEARS like so many others. It was, however, marked by the same overwhelming feelings of sadness, fear and emptiness.

I remember feeling like such a complete disappointment as a woman..isn't having babies what our bodies are built for?

We struggled with the prospects of medical intervention. Were we playing God? We sought wise counsel. We prayed. Ultimately, we decided what our parameters were for treatment (i.e., how far we would go).

God chose to bless us with 3 tiny heartbeats, despite the doctor's pessimism about our chances of conceiving even one child during that method of treatment and encouragement from health care professionals to terminate at least one of the babies to insure our best chances of a healthy outcome.

We plan to be open with the children about our journey. It is an amazing testament to the faithfulness and sovereignty of God. While I certainly do not plan to dwell in the pain of our past, I do think it is appropriate to revisit it from time to time.

Often, remembering is necessary to fully appreciate how far we have come.