God Never Changed

Quick update: We went to see a fertility specialist last week. More testing has been ordered with the goal of ruling things out. In the end, both of my doctors have stated that that believe all of my tests will come back normal. They believe that we still have an 80% chance of carrying a healthy baby full-term. Sounds good, right? I'm still trying to believe it.

I have learned a difficult lesson over the past year. In fact, it is something that I still question from time to time when I am feeling low. It is something that humbles me, breaks my heart, and completely satisfies me all at the same time. I have learned that God is always the same.

I'm sure that some of you are thinking, ummm yeah, we already know this. We hear it all the time..."God is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow". But, I don't think you are getting me. God is ALWAYS the same.

Like I said, I still don't get it all the time. Sometimes I don't believe it at all it seems. There are days when I find myself questioning God's character. I find myself trying to find the kind, gentle God that I was loving and worshiping the day before. And, I would swear on those days that I had perhaps misjudged the God of yesterday. Perhaps I had only thought that God is near, that He knows my every thought and desire, that He loves me. Yes, that must be it because today certainly doesn't feel that way. Instead, today feels cold, lonely, and void of everything good. God must have changed.

Then there are the good days. And man, they are really good. It's on those days when I sense God. Maybe not physically, but I just feel an overwhelming sense of peace. I know that God is near on those days. I have joy in my heart on those days. I have hope on those days. I love those days. God must have changed.

As I write this today I see how silly this really is. I may not see it tomorrow, but today I see it. The fact is, God never changed...I did. It was/is me all along.

You see, God never promised that every day would feel great. He never said that I would never feel lonely, hurt, or sad. God never ensured that doubts would cease to exist. In fact, God promised that I would encounter trials. He made it perfectly clear that no one, including His own Son, would be without pain, struggle, and frustration.

But, what God has allowed me to do is make my own decisions on how to cope, believe, and respond. It is my choice. The fact is, when I am feeling that God is distant it is usually because I have pushed Him away instead of drawing near to Him. Because if I draw near I may hear what He has to say and be responsible for taking action. When I feel that God is cold or unjust it is usually when I have become entitled and believe that I deserve better instead of praising Him for how exceedingly blessed I am. When I become hopeless it is usually because I have decided to soak in a tub of self-pitty instead of basking in His truth of salvation. It is my choice.

God never changed. I did. And while I change God continues to wait for me to draw near after pushing Him away. He continues to bless me despite my naive entitlement. He continues to love me through my self-pitty. God never changed.

Please Pray

I have been scheduled to see a fertility specialist on February 27th...exactly one year to the date after finding out that I was pregnant for the first time.

This post is really more of a request for prayer from all who are reading. This week has been the most difficult that I have experienced in some time. I have recently been overwhelmed with deep feelings of fear, self-doubt, and anxiety. I don't question where these feelings are coming from. I know.

You see, our experience with infertility and child loss has affected so many aspects of our lives. Aside from the physical/mental/emotional pain; being involuntarily childless; and fighting against fear and worry each day, there so many other factors that have come into play. I will warn you that some of this stuff is very intimate and personal. But real and present.

Our infertility experience has had a great financial impact on us. I continue to recieve bills for tests, doctor visits, and procedures that were done last year. Each bill brings about a reminder of how much we have lost. And, how expensive those losses have been...emotionally, physically, spiritually, and financially expensive.

Our infertility experience has had a great spiritual impact on us (probably more on me, though). I have questioned God's character, love, and abilities. I have questioned my own commitment to faith and wondered if I will ever be worthy enough to have this burden removed from me. I have lost my love of worship and quiet time with God...found it...and lost it again. This goes on and on. And honestly, I have questioned God's existence in my darkest moments.

Our infertility experience has had a great impact on our intimacy. The loss of our children has created a deep fear in me. A fear of getting pregnant. A fear of never being pregnant again. What if we get pregnant again just to lose another child. But, what if we stop trying? I have this battle in my mind each and every time we are intimate. Doesn't really set the mood that we were hoping for. It's infuriating, sad, and unpleasant. I just want to make love to my husband...with no inhibitions. Just pure, true love.

These are just a few areas that our struggle to become parents has touched. It's overwhelming to say the least. And, I could use some extra support. As I write this post I can feel the anxiety rising up in my stomach. The pure and absolute crazy sensation of wanting a way out so bad. I liken it to being sentenced to a life of solitary confinement despite your innocence. There is nothing you can do or say, no amount of screaming or pleading, nothing that will set you free.

Now, I understand in my mind that my God is a good God. He loves me, is here always, and ultimately will give me the freedom that I desire. But, right now my heart is having a hard time grasping it. Instead, all it feels is the brokenness, shame, fear, and helplessness that I continue to fight every day.

So, please, make it a point to pray for me...for us. Pray for peace. Pray for wisdom. Pray for patience. Pray for guidance. Pray for a miracle. But above all else, pray for my heart. Pray that I will fully surrender this to God and that I will trust in His will despite understanding or feelings. Pray that my bond with Christ will only get stronger.

Thank you.

Rest Ashore

Well, we got our lab results back this week. Normal. Everything turned up normal. I am both relieved and frustrated by this. I am pleased that there appears to be nothing medically wrong with me. However, I feel that we are where we were before the testing...with no answers. Nothing to "fix". Absolutely no further insight as to why this has happened. Nothing.

As you can probably tell, I am feeling a bit more defeated than relieved at this time. Although I never wanted anything really terrible to be causing these losses, I guess I was hoping for some answer, something I could blame this on and then fix...easily. Instead I am left still wondering what went wrong. I'm left wondering why this happened. And probably the most frightening thought is wondering if this is going to happen again. Will I experience the loss of another child? That thought makes me sick.

After each doctor's visit, lab test, or any event that forces me to directly face our situation, I am thrown back into an unforgiving sea of sorrow, helplessness, and fear. With each wave I am slammed into a rock that tells me that I will never get out of the dark, murky water. It happens every single time. Sometimes it's short lived, other times it seems to drag on for days.

I learned the results of my tests on Tuesday and feel like I am still trying to find my way back to the shore. A place that is filled with uncertainty and sadness. But in this place I can find truth and hope when I scour the sands long enough. I believe that the shore of my life is also filled with all the wonderful feelings of joy, peace, stability, and strength. I just haven't traveled inland far enough to find them.

My sea is a dark, cold place made up of chaos and restlessness. It's seems to have no end in sight. It's a place I don't want to be. I don't navigate it well and fear I will drown with each powerful wave. My toes barely feel the sandy floor only when the water recedes in preparation for the next watery blow. But that's the only chance I have to make it back to shore. It is in those times when I have to dig my feet in as deep as I can and begin pushing forward against the undertow of failure and the rip tide of hopelessness. I have to will myself to use the demanding waves as the propeller that inches me closer and closer to my sandy destination.

On the best days the water has calmed to large swells allowing me to gently paddle my way back to the shore. The beach greets me with the warm, cushiony sands of truth and rest. As I lay on this shoreline today, exhausted and overwhelmed, I cannot help but peer out into the debilitating sea and rest in the satisfaction of defeating it yet again.

Psalm 139 7-12 says, "Where can I go from Your Spirit? Or where can I flee from Your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there; If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there. If I take the wings of the dawn, If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, Even there Your hand will lead me, And Your right hand will lay hold of me. If I say, "Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, And the light around me will be night," Even the darkness is not dark to You, And the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You."

I'll be honest, I was only going to share the last part of this, as it had been on my heart since earlier this week. However, when I went to copy this from my Bible today I was struck by the David's words about dwelling in the remotest part of the sea. Actually, I wasn't just struck, I was giddy with excitement of how God's word addresses every last situation that I find myself in...He leaves nothing out. There is no place that I have ever been or could ever go that God will be absent from.

I know that I will again find myself back in the harsh waters of the sea...a place filled with the presence of God and His desire to calm the waters and gently carry me back to the shore of His truth.

A Bittersweet Anniversary

I never really understood why people are often so affected by the anniversary of a traumatic event or someone's death. I had a friend in high school who mourned her grandmother's passing every year. She would reminisce and cry for a couple days, reminding us of how special and missed her grandmother was. Although I understood the reality of her sorrow, I did not understand why she was still so emotionally connected to her grandmother's death.

I was not very acquainted with loss of any kind until last year. Yes, I have lost a grandparent, my great uncle, and my father in-law. And, I still miss them and think of them. But, those experiences have not impacted me in the same way as my high school friend.

2011, however, was different. Almost one year ago I found out that I was pregnant. After four years of trying, we were finally going to be parents. Because of that one precious day I now understand what my friend experienced each year.

There is nothing I don't remember (or can't forget) about the weeks surrounding our exciting realization. I always had pregnancy tests on hand - just in case. I knew something was different this time around. Chris and I had just returned from our yearly church network conference. It was the weekend of my birthday...I hadn't been feeling well all weekend. On Sunday morning, February 27th, I decided to test. I immediately got a positive reading. Because Chris was already at church I had to call to let him know. That morning I literally fell to my knees praising and thanking God for this answered prayer. A few days later I remember telling Chris that I did not believe that God would allow this pregnancy to end in miscarriage. A few days after that, on March 3rd, I began to miscarry.

I remember my excitement, the pregnancy magazines my husband bought, and the plans we had about our soon to be nursery that filled those five precious days. I remember the physical pain, helplessness, and utter sadness that filled the next several weeks even more. I remember begging God to save our child. I remember the sleepless nights, the late night movies I watched to pass time, and the spot on the couch that I stayed for several days. I have grown to hate that couch.

Unfortunately I now completely understand how such an event has the ability to capture and hold you despite your desire to move on. How one day in your life can change you for what seems like forever. I am scared, hurt, sad, and hopeful. I am scared of facing the upcoming months and the memories that I have involuntarily associated with them. I am hurt that I seem unable to move on. I am sad that another year has gone by and despite our pregnancies we are still childless. I am hopeful that I will still become a mother. For these reasons I call this year to come "A Bittersweet Anniversary".

And not only this, but we also exult in our tribulations, knowing that tribulation brings about perseverance; and perseverance, proven character; and proven character, hope; and hope does not disappoint... Romans 5:3-5