As I deal with the emotions I struggle with each day, I try to flashback to 3 years ago before my first miracle to remind myself of before. The picture in the words below show me in my most vulnerable state. The bitterness, the anger, and pain a woman feels in this situation is often hidden under her rug. Swept away when company comes, it is embarrassing to that woman. Please give her grace.
I
crumpled to the bathroom floor. Eyes streaming…unbelieving. I stared at that
damn stick, showing only one pink line. Again. I hated these sticks. The whole
process of using them. Anxiously carting myself to WalMart, perusing the
brands, Maybe E.P.T this time…but
First Response is cheaper, and I can get three sticks in one box…Seeing the
mother of three dragging her children past the toy aisle. Eyeing the teenage
girl, belly protruding from under a shirt with “Hello Kitty” splashed across
the front. Shooting daggers at the employee on her cigarette break as she
scratches her blue-clad baby bump. Watching the family clicking through the
tiled produce section obviously wearing their Sunday best from church….one
quick errand before heading home from the service.
Church.
I hated that process now too. “Let’s turn to the congregation for prayer
requests…” What am I supposed to say? It’s not like raising my hand and asking,
“Please pray for my cousin in Afghanistan” or “My uncle goes for another scan
this week, pray the cancer is gone.” Those are the kinds of prayer requests
that are accepted and expected. I can’t say, “Pray for me. The damn stick was
negative for the 48th month
in a row. I’m a jealous creature who hates other women who are ripe with child.
In fact, I’m desperate and angry. So angry with God, that I think I hate him
too.” I can’t say that. Those old women would “tsk, tsk, tsk” look at me
bewildered. Confused….Did she just say she hated God?
Chris and I had been trying for years. We had undergone multiple treatments.
Wiped out our savings account…several times. Had surgery. Had garage sales….what
else do we have that we can sell? We
had prayed. Attended church, politely asked for prayers from others. None of it
worked. I was to the point that I couldn’t speak about God without the sarcasm
slipping into my voice. Why had he done this to me? Why did he create me, a
soul who loved children, became a teacher even, then refuse to give me my own
child? What did I do to deserve this? Is it because we had premarital sex? Is
this my punishment? Forgive me!
This month was the last shot. The 9th intrauterine insemination. The doctor had informed us the only other option
was Invitro Fertilization. $15,000. We had nothing left. No choices. No money.
No patience. No hope. No faith. Only pain and tears and resentment.God had sure showed me. He stripped me down. He humbled me. He forced me to
turn to him. I couldn’t turn to the bank account, I couldn’t turn to the
doctor, I couldn’t just work harder, get a moonlight job, sell more trivial
junk from the garage. I had no choice but him.
I
begged. On that bathroom floor, I poured out my heart. I asked for forgiveness.
For mercy. For help. For healing.
Soon after I was directed (by whom? God?) to a website that I hadn’t come
across yet in my addictive midnight googling for answers. A brand-new charity
called BabyQuest, was offering up grants to help pay for treatments. It was a
long shot…but hey, we tried everything else. Chris and I put together an
application and mailed it off. Waited, checked emails…prayed.
The day we heard from Pam at BabyQuest, was the day I knew God hadn’t abandoned
me. This was going to be done His way. BabyQuest was a prayer answered. A
mother of two girls who struggled to create their children, woke up one morning
thinking how unacceptable it was that fertility treatments were a solution only
for those who could pay up. She launched BabyQuest, and we were her first
chosen couple. With her help we scheduled the big tamale. We underwent IVF. We
allowed God to just guide us.
Now, I sit here on the couch, computer on my lap, trying to finish this story,
eat, and fold this basket of laundry before my son, Noah, wakes from his nap.
Did BabyQuest make this happen? Or did God? Did He lead Pam to start this
charity? Did he humble me, and guide me to find BabyQuest? We will never know
what happened behind the scenes. But I do know that I am healed. I am a mother,
and I am happy. My faith is paramount to what it was, and I am ever grateful.
BabyQuest Foundation was a gift to us from God, and my answered prayers.
Stay tuned for my next blog post on more information about Baby Quest, and tips for being
chosen as a recipient!
Photo Credit: Rug http://claire-marsh.com/sculpture/
Image of Noah Taken by I Spy Photography https://www.facebook.com/pages/I-Spy-Photography/219612748060806
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