As I start
this blog, the first in a long while, it’s barely Christmas Eve – 2018. I love
Christmas usually. It’s been a top holiday for my entire life. But this year,
is a real struggle.
I’m adding a
nice disclosure at the top here, because dudes… you may not want to delve in to
this.
And ladies –
if you have any infertility triggers this may not be the blog for you.
Ready – here
we go…
This year
caps off a 6 year fertility journey. I say that because it truly was a story
with twists and turns with some highs… and some crushing lows.
I say ‘was’
because that journey came to its official end on 12/13/18. I went in
for an exploratory surgery to remove a cyst on an ovary and left completely
barren.
I knew that
a hysterectomy was a distinct possibility. I knew from all of the scans and
studies of all things chick related, that it was quite possibly a big old mess
down there. I mean, two little lives had
started a journey there and checked out well ahead of their expected stay. The
ultrasound and CT scans from the ER both showed unmistakable issues.
The doctor
prepped Al and me before anesthesia to make double sure that I was ready. I laughingly told him that my uterus
wasn’t doing the job I’d hired it on for, so it might as well go.
It’s easier
to be all giggles about that in an abstract sense for sure. It was the right
decision for me. Out of my 28 day cycle – regular as clockwork – I had 3 days
of horrific pain cause by the cyst every other month or so. Then every single month
for the past 3 years I had close to a week of debilitating pain as the fibroids
that took over my uterus tortured me into submission.
Womanhood is
not for the faint of heart.
This season
always struck me as so full of hope. In each of our years since marriage I was
sure that we were closing in on our miracle. My “word of the year” often
reflected that – hope – joy – journey – renewal.
This year
that specific hope, the hope for biological children, is gone.
On the
bright-side, I don’t have people telling me they are sure I’ll get pregnant as
soon as we adopt.
Gone will be
the hopeful – all in God’s timing pep talks.
I never have
to smile through a “well at least you’re having fun trying…” K (just don’t… y’all).
Barren
I’m half
tempted to make that my 2019 word.
It seems so
final. It’s tinged with a grief I could not have fully expected.
And entering
into a holiday that begins with a miraculous birth, the finality of the ending
to this journey seems bitter… barren.
LATER
I waited a
week to start this back up again. It wasn’t intentional. I think I just needed
to sit with these ‘feels’ a bit. I got
nice and sick over that time. A cold took me fully down to my bed for hours out
of every day. I’ve spent a lot of time praying. I’ve spent a lot of time
crying. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking.
------Lest
you think me super devoted, I’ve also binged an entire series of baking shows
on Netflix-----
Every year
for the last probably 15 (I need to check my journal to be sure), I have chosen
to pick a word for the upcoming year. Resolutions are generally pointless.
In the past,
I have found focus in a word, just one word usually, that gave me something to
push into.
When I
started this, I jokingly said that maybe “barren” should be my word. Ok, maybe
not entirely joking. It’s that dark and sarcastic humor that has become a
pretty steady coping mechanism.
But barren
is definitely not my word.
So what is?
Harvest
As I am
awake again tonight going over so much in my heart, Psalm 126 keeps rolling
around.
I was going to
just pick a piece of it here – but it all applies.
When
the Lord restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who
dreamed.
Our
mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy.
Then
it was said among the nations, “The Lord has done great things for
them.”
The Lord has
done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.
Restore
our fortunes, Lord, like streams in the Negev.
Those who sow with tears will reap with
songs of joy. Those who go out weeping, carrying seed to sow, will return with
songs of joy, carrying sheaves with them.
Harvest
2016 – 2017 –
2018 I sowed with tears. I lost things that almost no one knows about. I
grieved hard. But I sowed. No to be all “own horn tooter…” I got the privilege
to share about my faith multiple times. I got the joy of leading a whole group
of people in a verse by verse study of Revelation – start to finish – every line.
I got to continue to help lead worship at church.
I chose to
sow. I wanted to give up. I wanted to give up a whole bunch of times. I had to
lay low a few of those times because of how dark some of them got.
My actual conversations on the way into surgery were about God's calling on us into foster care. The last thing I remember, was telling the nurse about the faithfulness of God in that journey.
I chose to
sow.
2019 – It’s
harvest time. I feel it within the
depths of myself. I don’t believe that a calendar flipping over defines a fresh
start. What I do believe, is that it is
a good place to plant a memory stone (see Joshua 4).
I’ll keep
sowing too, because some of these things still need planting (hello long lost
book writing) and tending to (hello old daily devotional).
Harvest –
2019 – It’s that year!
-Gina
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