Had a discussion with DH after church yesterday. In place of the usual sermon, two members of the congregation spoke about their faith journey. One of the them explained how it was a "born-again moment" to be at the birth of his children. I almost lost it at that one. (On a side note, I truly wish DH would not insist on sitting so close to the front of church, so I could escape at times like these.) The other speaker commented that even in the midst of her struggle that she knew God was there; He might not take away the pain, but His presence was a comfort. DH asked me if I felt that way about infertility. And I admitted that, for the first time in the fifteen years that I have been a Christian, I don't feel like God is there. I have had bad thigns happen to me and I have always felt able to turn to God, but now I feel veyr much alone. I know intellectually that bad things happen to good people and that a physical ailment is not necessarily a manifestation of sin (cf. the blind man whose parents did not sin but was blind so that God would be glorified) and yet, as I explained to DH, there is part of me that screams inside, "what is wrong with me? Why do I deserve this?" Not that I think anyone "deserves" this struggle.
DH explained to me that he doesn't question why. He doesn't look at having a baby as something that anyone "deserves" least of all, him. He truly doesn't have a preference about how we bring a child into our family- whether through biology or adoption. He doesn't feel that going through the process is something he will miss. And he truly doesn't understand my reluctance or pain about the loss of that opportunity. I finally was able to come up with an analogy that he could understand. It is like a wedding. many women spend their entire lives "planning" their weddings in their heads. They have expectations for what they want it to look like. And eloping to Vegas might get you married, but you won't get a wedding out of it.
Having a baby is similar. I have pictured in my head all of the "moments"- telling DH, seeing baby on ultradounds, decorating baby's room, talking to baby in my womb, having baby showers, going into labor and a rush to the hospital, and that perfect moment of holding my child in my arms. DH thinks that bringing an adopted child into our home for the first time would have a similar feeling and it might. But I want all of those other things too.
3 comments:
Another MF blog! I hate that I have to cheer like this, but it's comforting to have strength in numbers you know? Ill definitely be checking back and adding you to my blogroll if you dont mind.
We got our diagnosis almost exactly the same time you did...isnt this a fun ride?
Its hard to bring faith into all this--Ive had really hard days, but I am holding on--there has to be a reason we are dealing with this-and some days its easier to tell myself that than others.
Getting to the same "point" in this journey with your significant other is tough-my husband and I deal with this a lot--I hope that you all will be on the same page many days out of the journey.
Thanks again for your comment--and I hope your journey is a short one.
I know how your faith can waver in this journey. I am experiencing the same lack of understanding right now. I just don't know why evil things happen to such good people.
I have talked about this a lot lately in my blog. I am mourning my losses and I am seeing that I may never have the life that I had always planned for myself. I may never have that "fairytale wedding" like in your analogy.
But I have come to realize that it is not pregnancy I seek - but to be a mother. The more I have come to learn about adoption, the more excited it makes me. And I never thought I'd be in this position.
I do hope that you can have your dream wedding. You do not deserve IF - none of us do. It is so unfair and all I can do is send you some hugs. (((HUGS)))
R.J.- definitely keep in touch. I will be reading you too.
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