The Gift of Infertility

My heart is full and my mind is not sure where to begin. The beginning seems the best place, but overwhelming since it was over 14 years ago that our story began. Actually, to be more precise, the dream of a family began in early childhood when as all (or at least most) little girls I made plans to grow up, get married, build a house and have 2-4 children with a station wagon, a white picket fence, a dog--you know, "the works"--the American Dream. It is the way things are "supposed to be," right?...or at least that is what I used to believe.

I was only 18 when I met my future husband--the man who would become my best friend, lover and companion through infertility...but I am getting ahead of myself. Chris and I married during college and began the adventure of leaving and cleaving and starting a family. However, things did not go according to plan (MY plan, that is), which was to finish college (check), complete graduate school (check), start a career (check), buy a home (check) and get pregnant (nope)within 3-5 years. Everything went according to plan except the pregnancy part. For one thing, my precious husband was not as motivated toward parenthood as I was. During our first year of marriage, I worked at a daycare and the maternal instinct kicked in full-force. Waiting for our agreed timetable (at least 3 years) was a daily struggle, which seems humorous now. If only I had known what lay ahead...thankfully, I did not.

In 2000, we started--what the infertility community refers to as TTC--trying to conceive. We had been married for 5 (long) years and I (daily) made sure Chris remembered our agreement (OUR PLAN) and the timetable we had set. So, he reluctantly agreed to start the process of "starting a family." As if it were all in our hands...It is actually pretty amazing/conceited to think that I actually believed it was something we could control...that we could just "create life" or bring a human being into the world by our own actions, will, plan, etc.!

And, so the struggle began. The struggle to create life. The struggle to fulfill my own selfish dreams. The struggle to maintain my sanity. The struggle to control my life. The struggle to make God in my own image. And, ultimately, the struggle wandering through the personal wilderness I refer to as "my decade-long crisis of belief." The worst part of infertility was feeling utterly alone, misunderstood and out of control (emotionally and physically). And, it is not that I was actually alone. I had a supportive network of family, friends and a great husband. But, the pain of barrenness is a wound indescribable, unbearable and misunderstood by many (or so it seems to the one experiencing it). To tell the whole story would be more than this blog allows, although I hope to share portions of it in future entries in case it may be helpful to someone else on the journey. But, for now, let it suffice to say that infertility has been simulaneously the toughest and the most precious experience of my life. It is the gift that lead us to the blessing of adoption.

And, so begins the next part of our journey... Because of God's great mercy and in His perfect sovereignty, He alone has conceived in our hearts the desire for adoption. These words bring fresh tears because I realize that only God could birth this desire in me. It was through the heartbreak of infertility that God has proven Himself thoroughly Trustworthy, perfectly Faithful, immensely Present and supremely Loving in my life. I have experienced more of Him because of the trial of infertililty than I would have ever experienced without it. And, so I can FINALLY thank Him for infertility. And, though I do not understand His ways, I would not trade it for the world.