Waiting

I have never been good at waiting. I’m the person who is inpatient waiting in line, or behind someone driving slow while in the car. It’s almost ironic that infertility has reduced (or should I say, focused) my life on that one thing. Waiting.

Obviously, waiting goes hand-in-hand with control. I’m the oldest of two daughters, and I have been bossy my whole life. I want things the way I want them. Infertility has changed that for me completely. I can’t bully, or debate, my way into having a child.

My husband and I have been married for 8 years. We both have always wanted children. My first job was babysitting. While in college, I worked as a childcare worker. After I graduated college, I worked as a preschool teacher for a few years. I never thought that there would be a chance that my future wouldn’t involve children.

After six years of trying, we decided to see a fertility doctor. Before that, I would say from time to time, I bet there is something wrong with me. My husband always told me I was wrong. Turns out I was right. In a nutshell, my ovaries keep my eggs for too long, and by the time they release them (if they even release them), they aren’t the optimal “age” for fertilization. Luckily, there are medicines that can correct this. My doctors seemed positive that this could be fixed, and compared to other people, I wasn’t looking at something that was complicated, or that I had no chance of having a biological child. (Luckily, my husband is perfectly fine and has no fertility issues.)

After hearing this, there was a part of me (OK, a big part) that thought that this would be resolved quickly. I’d take the medicine and we’d be pregnant in a month or so. But that’s not what happened. Cycle after cycle, nothing happened. I began to doubt. I began to get bitter. Why me? What did I do? I felt alone, and guilty. I began questioning God.

A few months ago, at one of my lowest times, I went to God instead of trying to figure it out myself. As much as I don’t want to see it, things happen for a reason. Every time I’m doubting God, I’m saying that my plan is better then his. That I should get what I want, when I want it (like a spoiled toddler). I realized that I should look at my life as positive as I can (some days are better then others). God has a plan for me. I repeat Jeremiah 29:11 to myself at least once a day. Sometimes it makes it easier, sometimes it doesn’t. But I’ve finally realized I’m not in control. I don’t know the future. Most of all, I have to trust. God, my doctors, my support group.  I have good days, and bad days. But when I doubt, I remember I have the big guy upstairs on my team. And it doesn’t get better then that.

Unfortunately, infertility can be a lonely, sad, depressing journey. It hit me a few days ago that maybe a reason I was going through this was to share my story with others, and to be a support to them. That’s why I started this blog. To record my journey, and show others with infertility that they aren’t alone. I am here struggling with you. I cry at night too. Sometimes I don’t want to be around children. Sometimes I don’t want to go to work. But if I can say one thing about those going through infertility, they are some of the strongest people you will ever meet. They get up every morning and do it all over again. And most of all, we wait. And hope.

 

Isaiah 30:18   Therefore the LORD waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the LORD is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.

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