It is epiphany. The official end to Christmas and our entrance into what is known as "Regular Time." I kid you not, this is the official title the Church has given to all time that is not Lent, Pentecost, Advent, or Christmas. Usually, I like to wait until Epiphany to pack away Christmas, but we had to get rid of the needling tree to make room for the buckets of toys that the Pickle received.
But this year's regular time is anything but regular for the Phillips family. It is an advent of sorts for us as well. No, no, I'm not pregnant. Just having the itch to be. And I hate being pregnant. Not even mentioning the whole bed rest in the hospital ordeal, I was not a happy pregnant camper. (Or maybe I was as about as happy as a camper who is pregnant could be.)
But this time around, the advent is different because I know more about the trials of getting pregnant, the heartbreak of not being pregnant, of loss, of "spotting," and the efforts it takes to keep me pregnant. So this itch to have another baby is mixed with a lot of fear. And I hate being fearful. I'm pretty sure it is the opposite of being faithful. But if I'm going to be honest, I am afraid.
Afraid of the hurt that will inevitably be mine should I not get pregnant. Afraid that God's plan for our family is for Henry to be an only child. Afraid that what God really has for us is adoption. Afraid of the monetary cutbacks that will need to be made to make a way for me to get pregnant or even to adopt (which is MORE expensive than IVF!) Afraid that we will get pregnant and that the surgery to keep me pregnant will hurt. Afraid that I'll get pregnant with twins and I'll end up in the hospital again. Afraid that I won't be able to hold on 34 weeks and a day and our child will be born too early and then afraid that I won't be able to Mommy adequately to a child with all the needs a preemie can have for a lifetime. Afraid that in the midst of all this pain and fear I'll believe the lie that I've done something to deserve all this and that it's just further proof that God isn't who He says He is and is, in fact, out to get me.
I had an ultrasound yesterday to find out how my uterus is doing. It was some weird type of ultrasound, but it appears that my girl parts are all in working order and so I won't need to have surgery before trying to get pregnant like I did last time. So that is a blessing. But I was sort of hoping to need surgery. Which is weird because it would mean finding childcare for Henry and recoup time and all, but on some level, it would be something I could do that would be a successful step towards getting pregnant. And to me, that beats waiting on the Lord any day. (Having surgery would also give me a 2 week "get out of going to the gym without guilt" pass, and that would be freakin' awesome!)
We also got a talking to by my wonderful OB/Gyn, Dr. Murray. I love Dr. Murray and I know she loves me, Sloan, and Henry. But she was very candid about the risks of multiples with IVF and the difficulties that presents with my incompetent cervix. She said that even with a stitch to keep me shut, twins would be difficult, but doable. But with triplets, she feared that my body wouldn't hold up and so she would be forced, as my doctor, to recommend things she knew we wouldn't agree to. She even confessed that she wouldn't want to make those ethical decisions, so that we should just put in 2 embryos, no matter what the fertility specialist says. When Henry was born, he was the result of 3 embryos being transferred. But I know she is right.
But this fear is strange. I have no doubts as to what God can do. I have no doubts as to His goodness to me and my family. I see it clearly every time I look at Henry and his snot covered face. And I'm even certain that my heart will make it through it. No matter what happens. That on the other side of things, I will be blessed by my adversities. That what seems treacherous will be for my good and are all part of a plan devised by my Father who loves me. I know and believe all these things. And yet, I still fear the hurt. I wish there was another way.
I wish I could really enter into regular time. Get pregnant the regular way. Stay pregnant the regular way.
But God is not content with me being regular, which I guess, is a compliment.
5 comments:
Oh my, could this be any closer to my inner dialog today? In many ways, I need to find my own faith to see this path through -- that somehow it's not a big joke, that the larger picture has a place for children in my home, that somewhere in my gut I can find the patience and the kindness to raise them right. I fold the concept over in my head time and time again, with no real answer yet. Longing is such a perfect word for it.
Give Henry a squeeze for me, okay?
:)
Praying for you...
(ps I have always called it common or ordinary time. regular reminds me of bowel movements!)
every night before we go to sleep lily and i ask for a baby for our best friend. we will start asking for a baby for ej as well.
i am guessing that i am the best friend that mollie and lily are praying for. (i happen to be mollie's older sister and have been reading your blog for awhile.) thank you for saying all the things that are so hard to say. my attempts at trying to become pregnant have been futile so far, but we are hopeful that it will work one of these days. as i write this teary eyed, i hope and pray that the Lord would bless you in his timing as you think about expanding your family! keep the faith (i'm trying to!).
I was just doing the ugly cry trying to prevent tears from spilling onto my keyboard.
I can relate to a small degree with your fears and worries. Nate was my second pregnancy (the first was an ectopic), and thankfully his time in my belly and his birth went off without a hitch. I do have worries about getting pregnant again, but I look at his perfect little face, realize how much fun it all is, and I can't wait to do it again.
I will pray tonight that you get to do it all again as well (but hopefully without all the yucky, scary stuff...).
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