W is for Wellness

I am participating in the 2016 A-to-Z Blog Challenge. My theme is the music of my life.

After all of the miscarriages and six years of trying to have a baby, it took a long time to feel like myself again. Physically my body was a mess. I was black and blue from shots, and my digestive track was a continual mess from all of the fertility drugs. And I need not speak of my emotional state. Even though we came out of that dark era changed and with many war wounds, the experience strengthened our marriage and our faith.


I knew that all of that tragedy, stress, and pain had been allowed for a reason. It sounds strange, but I knew God would use it for our good. Somehow. I think of those years as those that the locust ate. On top of the losses of all of the babies, we also lost Stephen's sister to cancer, my grandmother to old age and dementia, and our cat Sam to some strange nasal-cavity malady. The final blow was the loss of my heart-dog, Tessa, who had been my fur-baby for eleven years. After all of  that, Stephen and I both said we were through with loss and tragedy.


Then, three blessings occurred. We adopted a retired racing greyhound that we named Chase. He was a five-year-old, seventy-five-pound goof ball who turned our life upside down (in the best possible way). My little Tessa dog had been a quiet, self-sufficient dog who required very little. Chase needed a lot of time and attention. In fact, he was sort of like caring for a child. We loved him instantly. After Tessa died, we adopted Trinity--a twelve-pound Italian greyhound who became our "little baby girl." She was affectionate and cuddly and really filled the "baby void" for me.

In 2013, my husband suggested that we do something that we couldn't do if we had kids. We decided to go to England, Scotland, and Wales where I was able to show him all my old stomping grounds from when I'd once lived there. What thrilled me more than anything was how much he loved it. The trip meant as much to him as it did to me.


We now define that period in two different eras--before England and after. We were different people when we came back...we felt strangely healed. It was as though blinders had been removed from our eyes and we no longer mourned. An emotional wellness settled over us both, and we thanked God for these seemingly small blessings that had such a huge impact on our lives.


During this time, the song "Blessings" by Laura Story meant a lot to me. I think it holds true no matter what the tragedy or the trouble. Sometimes blessings do come through raindrops.

  

Gifts of Raindrops and Tears

A few years ago, my husband and I were desperately trying to have a baby. I was thirty-four when we married, and by the time we got serious about trying, I was thirty-six. After five miscarriages and six rounds of IVF, we finally admitted defeat in 2012 and threw away all the horrible fertility pills, hypodermic needles, and pamphlets on fertility foods (all a constant part of our life since 2009).

We briefly looked into adoption but decided against it after weighing the costs, stress and anxiety, and the fact that we were basically too old to pursue traditional adoption routes (I was 40 by that time; my husband was 47).

Despair settled in. It was over and we both knew it. For me, it sparked an intense period of anger with God and everyone around me. I could not be in the presence of a pregnant woman (it made me physically ill), and even someone discussing adoption raised my hackles.  I felt like an inferior specimen of humanity, and more importantly—I felt sure that God was withholding from me the one thing that I’d actually been designed to do (bear children). Yes, I believed that lie. I was sure it was some kind of punishment.

My long suffering husband had already come to terms with the losses and accepted that God had given us a final and resounding NO. He really wanted to be there for me emotionally, but he also didn’t want our lives to revolve around the label of infertile couple. He finally suggested that we do something that we could never do if we had kids: travel abroad. So we planned a trip to the United Kingdom, and that summer we traveled around England, Scotland, and Wales. It was the best decision we ever made.

When we returned, I was miraculously healed. I know. It sounds crazy, but it’s completely true. When we returned from the U.K., I was like, “You know what? I really don’t think I want kids anymore.” Part of me felt that this would be a passing emotion, but just the other day we were talking to family members, and I realized that I still felt the same. Nope. No longings there. It was a praise-worthy moment. God simply plucked those feelings from my heart and replaced it with his assurance--"My grace is sufficient."

Later, my husband and I talked about the fact that God really did know what he was doing when he withheld this gift from us. (Imagine that? God knowing what he was doing!) For four and a half years, the desire to have children had become an idol, taking over our lives. We'd been slaves to the doctors and fertility experts and everything they told us to eat, drink, and inject. Our marriage was swaddled in pain and loss, and there was very little relief as we careened through one failed IVF cycle and pregnancy after another. It eclipsed absolutely everything for a few years, including my relationship with God, as I remained in a perpetual state of anger.

The true, supernatural gift arrived with the release from obsession and idolatry of children. Next to  the gift of my husband, I consider this peace the best gift I’ve received in my life so far. I don’t know why we had to endure those tides of unrest, but I feel I’m a more secure person with a better relationship with God as a result. Realizing that the Lord is not an ATM machine or a cosmic Santa has made all the difference in my life and in my marriage.

At the end of the day, I know I will see my miscarried babies again one day on the other side. If I ever looked forward to heaven, how much more so now!

Yes, God answers all our prayers, but he doesn’t always give us what we want; instead, he provides what we need. Most importantly, his most precious gift is in our need for him. He longs for our faces to be turned toward him at all times, no matter if our cheeks are glowing with joy or bathed in tears.

"It is the one and only Spirit who distributes all these gifts. He alone decides which gift each person should have." 1 Cor. 1-11 (NLT)

 Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!