Even When It Breaks Your Heart Part 3

08242016 Even When It Breaks Your Heart Part 3 

The GYN office was quiet the day I went in to tell Dr. “Mark” that I wanted to schedule a hysterectomy.  He didn’t say much, but he was sincere in his response. 

“I can’t tell you that you will 100% for sure get pregnant in your life.  But I can tell you that if you have a complete hysterectomy, you will 100% NEVER get pregnant in your life.  I will schedule this if you and your husband are certain you will NEVER want to get pregnant or even to try conception again.”

I was ready.  My husband was not. 

“I want to try one more time.” he pleaded. 

I didn’t like it.  I’ve felt all the feelings and I know that TTC or Trying to Conceive does not mean, look, or feel the same for the woman as it does for the man.  I was suddenly very afraid to say yes because I knew it could make a huge rift in our marriage.  But I was alternately insecure about saying no because that wasn’t fair to Rich either. 

We agreed to go to a specialist to see what they could do for us.  Florida Institute for Reproductive Medicine or FIRM was our next place to seek help.  They were clearly making big dollars on making babies for people, and in the world of infertility, that’s good.  In an infertile person’s world, it’s the hope you hold onto when everyone tells you things like, “relax”, and “you’ll get pregnant right away”.  It’s the place where people understand that it’s not always about relaxing.  Sometimes, there is a medical reason for not being fertile, sometimes, it’s a mystery.  When we made the appointment, one of the doctors offered to us was doctor “B”, the same doctor we had at the Jones Institute in Virginia.  What a crazy conspiracy this was turning out to be.  The same doctor that had previously seen me… twice.  In two separate locations.  One, a civilian, one, active duty.  In the elevator to the sixth floor, I felt something strange.  The feeling of suspicion and fear swept over me. 

If you’ve never seen the movie “Facing the Giants”, I would encourage you to do so.  It has something for everyone.  While about a football coach who seems to have everything going against him, yet clings to his faith, believing that God is not calling him to leave his team, but to lead it; it has a backstory about the coach’s wife, who is infertile.  It seemed like two birds with one stone – Rich likes football and I wanted the backstory.  In the movie, there is a man (Mr. Bridges) who walks the halls and prays over the lockers of the school.  You don’t know much about him, other than he walks and prays.  One day, when the chips are really down, Coach goes out into the hall and Mr. Bridges says to him, “Grant, I heard a story about two farmers who desperately needed rain; and both of them prayed for rain, but only one of them went out and prepared his fields to receive it.  Which one do you think trusted God to send the rain?”  Coach said, “The one that prepared his fields for it.”  Then Mr. Bridges said, “Which one are you?  God will send the rain when He’s ready.  You need to prepare your fields to receive it.”  It made me think about the times I had all those baby clothes saved up and then would get crushed in spirit when a procedure wouldn’t work, and I’d throw away all the baby clothes because it was too hard to look at.  Not only did I not have a baby, but God didn’t give me what I was asking for.  God wouldn’t give me what I wanted.  What my heart desired.  But this time, because of what Mr. Bridges said, “God will send the rain…”  I felt different about it.  God will send the rain.  I just must be ready to receive it.  What could I do to change myself to receive His blessings? 

Later in the movie, Coach Taylor’s wife went to the doctor’s office to take a pregnancy test, she didn’t want to have hope, but as all infertile women do, she had the desire, the dream, the wish.  She wanted to be pregnant.  But also as most infertile women do, she had an ounce of doubt.  Of course, the nurse came in and shook her head, as if to tell Coach Taylor’s wife that she wasn’t pregnant.  How that stung me.  It was awfully familiar territory.  I did everything I was told to do, and still, I got that head shake.  Side to side.  No. 

Coach Taylor’s wife goes to leave, and they show her breaking down in the parking lot.  A familiar scene for me in my personal life.  The car is always a safe place to cry.  She stands outside though and audibly talks to God.  Here’s what she says, “I will still love you Lord.  I will still love you.”    For me, it was a turning point.  In my entire journey, I had done everything in my human power to control and manipulate the story.  I had paid money, prayed, read books, hung baby booties on my headboard, and tried not to think about it.  I did everything, except acknowledge that God is God, and I am not and proclaim my love for Him regardless of the outcome of my situation.  When I saw Brooke Taylor do it, I realized that I had not loved God because God IS.  I had only loved the God who saved me and took care of me.  I decided that regardless of the outcome of any of the procedures I was about to have, I would still love God.  Then, I told Him so. 

Dr. “D” was an average sized guy with dark hair and glasses.  He sat behind a too-big desk which was full of papers and books.  Rich and I sat down in the two chairs that faced him and listened as he spoke statistics and answered the questions he asked us.  When he finished scribbling on his paper, he looked up at us and said,

“Without In-Vitro, you have a less than 2% chance of achieving a pregnancy.” 

My mind was reeling again.  Why would he say that?  For real.  If he didn’t want to help us, why not just say those words?  Why make it look so hopeless?  Unexplained Infertility was our label.  It made treatment exceedingly difficult.  They didn’t really know what was wrong, so they didn’t really know how to “fix” it. 

Why? What had we done to deserve this?  Why couldn’t we just get pregnant?  Was this another method a fertility clinic uses to get people to spend 10-15 thousand dollars on IVF?  I swallowed hard and looked at Rich.  He sat there, looking happy and content, ready to try again.  How could he accept the pain that’s about to overtake us with such wild-eyed excitement?  I said something particularly important to Dr. D. Then, we said that we would do it the old-fashioned way, except that we’d like the medication they offered us.  He sighed and accepted our terms. 

Ultrasounds and blood work began immediately, followed by education and training for the injections which would be the method of “try” we would use this time.  And we followed the procedure right down to the minute.  The dosages were easy to keep, they came in pre-measured vials.  All we had to do was get the injection in the right amount of fat at the right time and wait for the doctor to tell us when to get together.  Rich was a source of strength and confidence.  He was excellent at giving me the shots and listened intently as I whined about all the feelings I had because of the medication.  When the time came, we got together on the exact day at the exact time that the doctor ordered.  While there was a lot of love in our little house, and at that time, there was also a lot of scheduled “clinical feel” to much of what we did that month. 

I knew.  I just knew.  I don’t know how I knew, but I did.  Of course, I knew every time, and I had been wrong every time.  So really, I didn’t know.  But I wanted to know.  Rich told me I had to wait until my appointment with FIRM to take any test.  We’d spent enough on home pregnancy tests, so we were going to conserve our funds and just wait the two weeks until it was time for our blood draw, but I didn’t want to wait.  I was tired of waiting.  I knew I was supposed to start, and I didn’t, so I called the base and asked for a test.  They got me in right away for a “drop off”, which basically means that I went in before work, peed in a cup and left.  They said they would call me later with the results.  When Karen called me, I left my desk and went outside.  I didn’t want to cry in front of everyone when I heard “The No”. 

“Well, you passed!” She said with joy.  I could tell she was grinning over the phone.  “Passed what?” I asked. 

“The test”, she replied. 

“What does that mean?” I inquired. 

“It’s positive.”  She said. 

“Positive like meaning what?” My limbs go all tingly. 

“You’re pregnant.”  She giggled. 

“Are you trying to reach Amy Sara (blank)…? With the social security number (blank)…?” I asked, hysterically by now. 

“Yes, you.  You are pregnant.  You are positively pregnant!”  She asserted. 

“Are you sure?” I pleaded. 

“The test is positive.  It could be a false positive, but that doesn’t happen very often.”  She assured me. 

“What do I do now?” I asked. 

“Go home and tell your husband.” She directed. 

“Thank you so so much.” I said, voice shaking. 

In fact, my whole body was shaking.   At lunch, I went to Toys ‘R’ Us and bought a bib and a book, I think it was called, “What To Expect When Your Wife Is Expanding“, a light and funny read that I’m sure Rich never finished.  I put it all in a box and got a card.  I wrote in the card about our new addition and packed it all in my car and went back to work.  I was nearly bursting when he got home.  I knew he was leaving the state on Friday, and that was the day I was supposed to go to FIRM to get the blood test.  I wanted to see his face when he found out.  As soon as I got home, I gave him the box, and he reacted as I expected.  He told me he would not be excited until we got the blood test back from FIRM.  I sighed.  Too many “No’s. I released him from the obligatory celebration dinner and told him that I would call him when I found out on Friday. 

I called him, and he didn’t believe me.  He made me have the nurse call his cell phone directly.  And when she told him, he believed, but only because she was “official”.  It took a lot of time for us to truly absorb the miracle that had been given us.  We still look at her in awe.  She’s our first miracle, and we testify to it often.  But the day the nurse called him while he was on his way to a West Virginia hunting trip and the day I called my mom from Kingsley Avenue, bawling, were far apart.  It took a lot of letting go to get to the place where we were okay – really okay – either way.  It took being happy with my sister-in-law’s good news, and I mean to the place where I was honestly happy; not the fake, obligated happy that some people do when they don’t know what else to do. 

Faith requires you to walk around with a broken heart sometimes.  It’s not a wish list that Santa checks off if you’re good.  It’s not the genie in the bottle.  Faith, and a deep faith, is tested.  The Bible tells us our faith will be tested.  James 1:3 says that “For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow.”  and 1 Peter 1:7 says, “These trials will show that your faith is genuine.  It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold – though your faith is far more precious than mere gold.  So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world.” 

You don’t get to live the life I lived and witness the way our miracle children came about and say that there is no God.  Three of the top fertility clinics in the free world had given us a “NO”.  Even the doctors who helped us admitted that they had no control.  Even the last one, the one that God used to help us said, “Less than 2% chance.”  Across the big desk from Dr. D, I replied to that statement (the important thing I said was),

“Bring it on.  God specializes in the long shot.  He works best with low odds.”  It’s like a tuning fork for me.  When the chips are down in life, I remember that day, at that desk, with that doctor.  I remember that faith, and the little girl (young woman) who sat across and proclaimed that her God was big enough to beat any odds stacked against any human.  Her God could if He desired. 

When your heart breaks for a long time, it seems hopeless.  In human eyes, it appears impossible.  It hurts badly and deeply.  I’m so grateful I had a mother who would be hurt and broken with me all those years.  I could not have made it through without her prayers. And you know what?  God gave us a “bonus” kid, just because He can.  Without any doctors, without any notice.  God just made us a son. Now that’s testimony.  But you know what?  Sometimes, talking about my kids breaks my heart today.  Because there are still women who have been trying for years, whose hearts are still broken and empty and seeking to have that desire met.  My heart really, honestly breaks for them, because I know what that feels like.  So, I do what my momma did for me.  I pray.  I pray for them like she prayed for me. 

Which brings me to today… 

This is Part 3 of a 4 part series.  To read more, click a link! 

Part 1 

Part 2 

Part 4