As we wind down the year of 2018, I wanted to share my heart and thoughts with you all. These past two years have been something else. Definitely the hardest and most painful. But this year . . . I like to think of it as the year of healing and growing.
January of 2017, My husband and I found out we were expecting our first child. We were amazed it finally happened since just months before, I had an ovary removed due to a tumor and we weren't sure how difficult it would be to get pregnant with only one ovary and the fact we already struggled to get pregnant in the first place. So getting this wonderful news felt like a miracle! We were ecstatic! But then just a short while after, at 8 weeks pregnant, I began spotting. Within the next two weeks, it was clear our little one was not going to make it. I can still remember the anguish I felt as our baby left my body. Horrible pain matched with denial and the wish that I could somehow make it stop . . . the harsh realization that it was completely out of my hands and was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not.
I was left empty and devastated. At first I blamed myself. I thought maybe I did something wrong or maybe I was defective as a woman. Soon, my anger turned towards God. I was told by well-intentioned people that it was a part of His will. Or maybe He didn't think I was ready. I believed them. I believed that for whatever reason, God took my baby from me.
That whole year, I was in such a darkness that I can't even describe. The silence that surrounded me each day while my husband went off to work was sometimes too much to bear and all I would do was cry. My thoughts were my worst enemy, but I couldn't do anything to silence them. I felt like a big part of me had died inside and feared I'd never find my way out of the dark. I had been robbed of so much. I'd never get to rock my baby to sleep, hear their contagious giggles, or watch them grow up. Many people tried to comfort me by saying at least now I know I can get pregnant and can have another one. While I could take some comfort in knowing that, I knew no other baby would ever replace the one I lost.
By the time we had reached a year since the miscarriage (February 2018), I was still not in a good place with God, but I decided I needed to pick myself back up and focus on bettering myself for me and my husband. I finally started to feel the weight of the darkness lifting off my soul. Then just a couple weeks later (March 2018), I found out I was pregnant again! Before I told a single person, I was home all alone and I prayed to God out loud asking Him to please keep this baby safe. I tried bargaining with Him, suggesting I'd stop doubting Him and start going to church again if only He would save my baby. But alas, I lost that baby too. My anger was turning to hate. I hated God for taking my babies. I hated Him for not hearing my prayers.
Throughout this whole time, I was constantly searching, trying to make sense of everything. Trying to figure out who God is and why all this was happening. After all, the Bible says "pray without ceasing" and "ask and you will receive". . . but what did that mean, if not that He would answer our prayers?
June of 2018, I went in for another surgery. I had another tumor that they were able to remove while preserving my only remaining ovary, and had fibroids and polyps removed from my uterus. But my doctor was concerned we would struggle to get pregnant, if at all, and suggested fertility treatments. We agreed upon a method and went through some more testing before beginning treatment. I didn't fully have peace about it, but I figured I was just scared.
In the meantime, I had reconnected with an old friend who I feel God has used in a big way. She listened and encouraged the best she could, but I was mostly encouraged by her life and story. She invited me to attend the church she is a part of. It was both difficult and wonderful walking into that first service. I knew I was ready, but I was also scared. I knew my heart was healing and was even opening back up to God and I decided within myself that I was going to trust Him.
I couldn't get over the fact that I didn't have peace about doing the fertility treatments, so I discussed it more with my husband and it turned out, he only agreed to do it for me, so we decided to forgo fertility treatment. I didn't know if we'd ever be able to have kids of our own or if maybe He would lead us to adopt. But I knew I'd be okay either way.
Through all of this, I came to realize that all that time I had been praying all wrong. None of us will ever be exempt from the heartache and pain that comes with living this life. I was trying to ask of God something He simply is not. His promise isn't to keep us from pain, but to be with us through it, to give us strength, to help us grow, to help us heal . . . THAT is His will. I hated the one who could help me get through one of the hardest things I'd ever have to go through. He was still there nonetheless, I just couldn't hear Him because I wasn't listening.
Now here we are, with a miracle of a baby growing inside me! We have almost made it halfway through the pregnancy, which I find absolutely amazing and exciting!! I so look forward to the day we will hold our little one in our arms.
I still think of our two other little ones often, and it still makes me sad that I wasn't able to keep them here with me, but I will surely carry them in my heart with every breath I take.
Would you believe me if I told you I had some sort of peace after my second miscarriage earlier this year? That I just had this feeling that something good was coming? I didn't know what it was or if I was just crazy, but throughout the rest of this year, its been there like a still small voice that calms me through my fears. It calmed me when the doctor told us we'd likely not be able to have kids on our own . . . just as it's calmed me through this pregnancy when things got scary. Even though my stubborn self would panic and cry, that little voice has reminded me it will be alright.
