Unfailing love in the midst of sadness

On Monday at 3:15 my phone rang. The nurse from the Toledo Fertility Clinic used (eerily) the exact same words as last April: “Unfortunately, I am not calling with good news. The test was negative. Your HCG level was less than one. You are not pregnant. I am sorry.” Our worst fear was realized: again. With that phone call, the reality of the situation came rushing in. We had now lost four children. Four of our babies, conceived through our bodies, had been transferred into my body and died there. Out of the six babies conceived in April, now two remain.

Sadness. I need God’s word to center my heart and calm my spirit today. The weight of sadness is so heavy. I need these verses to reflect my heart, with God’s help.

Psalm 27:13-14- I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living. Wait for the LORD; be strong and take heart and wait for the LORD.

Psalm 33:4- For the word of the LORD is right and true; he is faithful in all he does. The LORD loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of his unfailing love.

Signs of God's goodness in desolate places

Psalm 33:20-22- We wait in hope for the LORD; he is our help and our shield. In him our hearts rejoice, for we trust in his holy name. May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.

            That is our prayer: “May your unfailing love rest upon us, O LORD, even as we put our hope in you.”

            Until tonight I really have not been strong enough to write this blog post. I praise God and am so grateful for the outpouring of love, support, hugs, and even laughter from friends and family since Monday afternoon. You kindness has helped us start the journey of healing from this sad loss. I sigh as I think about this season of waiting we are in. It feels desolate. So far, our season of waiting has really been a season of heartache and closed doors. Closed doors to starting a family. Closed doors to all of the jobs we have applied for. This is where I come back to the verses about the goodness and love of the LORD. Hard to understand right now, but so very true, even now as we feel his love surround us.

            Yesterday, right before the phone call, I had been reading Psalm 138:8- The LORD will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O LORD, endures forever- do not abandon the works of your hands. I read that as a promise- the LORD WILL. I believe that he has a purpose for me, even though I do not know the details of what that purpose is. I believe that he will fulfill it, even though I don’t know how. And so I echo the words of the psalmist: “your love endures forever- do not abandon the works of your hands.” 

            And so, here we are, friends. We wait on the purposes of the Lord to be fulfilled in the life of our family. We trust that God will not abandon us. And we look forward with both tears and joy to the day when we will become parents to our children. Thanks for your love and support as we anticipate that great day. 

Season of waiting

It has been a long season of waiting. And now the waiting is the most acute: waiting for the babies to implant; waiting for the pregnancy test; waiting for God to open the doors to the right job opportunities; waiting to know where we will move next. Waiting is a lot like winter. There is very little movement. No signs of life.

I am thinking about new life today. Yesterday at 12:45, our two little tiny embryos were transferred into my body. Seeing the little picture of them, already visibly three distinct types of cells (which would soon form into placenta, amniotic fluid, and baby), was such an amazing experience. Even better, these little creatures (which my friend Kara suggested are roughly the size of chia seeds, and rapidly expanding!) already were both “hatching” out of their outer membranes as they grow. Within 24-48 of yesterday at 12:45, the doctor told us they would hatch and implant into my uterine lining. As the doctor left the room, he said, “keep praying. These lives are in God’s hands. There is nothing more we can do.”  

Relaxing after the day after the transfer, hoping and praying

            We learned this truth the hard way in the past few months. We had a 77% chance of having a baby the last time around. Yet, four months later, instead of being 18 weeks pregnant and finding out the gender of our babies, we have just begun again. I now have two 7-day-old embryos in my tummy.

            This week God brought me to an amazing verse that I believe is a promise for us. I don’t know how or when it will come to pass. But I have this sense that it is a promise for us.

“See! The winter is past; the rains are over and gone. Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. The fig tree forms its early fruit; the blossoming vines spread their fragrance. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.” – Song of Songs 2:11-13.

            I don’t know if I have already mentioned this story in here, but this is what I think of when new life from dead ground comes to mind. Last Valentine’s Day (the first one of our marriage) Josh gave me a beautiful white and fuchsia Phaleanopsis Orchid. Valentine’s Day there was a blizzard in Michigan, where we were for my 10-year Calvin College reunion. This kind of plant cannot ever be in temperatures below 60 degrees. So, needless to say, it was looking very droopy by the end of the day. We had to transport it back to Ohio, too. Within a few weeks, all of the flowers had fallen off and the branches were barren. There were no signs of life at all through the long, cold, dark days of winter. Months went by. I read a little, watched some YouTube videos from Brad’s Greenhouse, and decided to clean it up a bit. In early May, after we lost the babies, I decided to give some TLC to that little dead-looking plant. I rimmed off dead roots, sprayed down the leaves with a special cleaning solution, and polished all of the branches. I consistently stuck with the meticulous placement of three ice cubes on the moss each weekend.

The Hope Orchid

            And then it happened. Buds started to appear. As the days grew longer and the sun streamed in, the first flower opened. Within two weeks, we had 14 brand new orchid blossoms! New life from dead branches.

My back patio- early June... 

            I have been thinking the same thing lately as I watch my garden grow. The morning glories especially have me marveling… from such little tiny seeds, such a prolific mass of leaves, vines, and a glorious burst of pinks, purples, lilacs and blues every single morning. And not just where I planted, but trailing and climbing all over the rest of the patio garden bed, chairs, siding, grass, pots, and everything else they can get to. These beautiful morning flowers represent life coming from latent ground that had not been sown in quite a long time.

My back patio- last week

                I guess I am somewhat philosophical now as we abide in our waiting period. My greatest comforts are in knowing the Presence of my God with me, and the constant love of my husband. In the love of my husband I can sense the love of my God. What a beautiful place to be. Even in the waiting, I am content. We wait and we hope. In fact, we join the sentiment of Abraham from the Bible: “In hope against hope, he believed.” (Romans 4:18) The book The Power of Hope explains what he was expressing, “when there was absolutely no hope, he hoped anyway.”

            That is where I am today. Whether or not we become pregnant, whether a child (or twin children!) is born to us come next May, is only in our Father’s hands. What I mean is that, at this point, our only role is to pray and to hope against hope, waiting on our God. We know we can trust our God, no matter what happens. 

As always, thank you for keeping us in your prayers, and for joining us on our journey of faith toward becoming parents. 

Here we go again!

Giant pink zinnia from seed- a symbol of God's new mercies

Here we go again!

Yesterday I got the calendar of dates for our second IVF cycle. I have struggled with doubt and fear over the last three months since we lost the two poppyseed-sized babies the doctor put into my uterus. “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness!” (Lamentations 3:21-23)

God has been faithful to us repeatedly in our lives. There is even faithfulness in the peace, the hope, and the inexpressible joy he gave us after we lost those two little babies. We praise him for his faithfulness in creating not just the two embryos that we lost, but also four more embryos that are just waiting to grown and become our children. I am confident that I can place all of my hope in Him because he is faithful and his compassions never fail.

Isn’t it interesting how we can fret and analyze over a decision for so long, then when the moment comes to make the decision, there is a grace and a peace that illuminates the right choice so clearly you do not even see the other choices? That is how this decision was for us.

After we lost the babies, many people asked: “when are you going to try again?” Some prayed with us for a miracle, that we would get pregnant naturally in the months following the IVF failure. Initially, it just hurt so badly that I could not imagine trying again. I was scared to lose two more babies. I was afraid of how much money it would cost. I feared we would find out something even bigger was wrong with us. I was anxious about the timing of when to get pregnant and when to have babies since my job in Ohio is ending soon, and neither of us have jobs on the horizon yet. Josh and I talked, we prayed, and we waited.

As the time drew closer (the end of the month of June), a deep peace started to settle over me. I am studying a book called The Power of Hope, by Dutch Sheets. A friend from church has been reading and discussing it with me weekly, and is it ever exactly what I need to process through this decision! Hope against hope was the theme in the chapter last week and we studied it the very night that our hopes for natural pregnancy last month were dashed. Many times during our struggle, believing friends have prayed for us and said that we will be like Abraham and Sarah from the Bible. God will provide children for us, and we will be the parents of many little ones. Now, our situation for child-bearing has sometimes felt quite hopeless. Even trying one of the most advanced methods for getting pregnant, we failed. When I should be 15 weeks pregnant, instead we are preparing to try the process again. But there is a verse in Romans 4:18:

Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, ‘so shall your offspring be.’

That is a hope against hope. That is hope in the face of hopelessness. And for Abraham and Sarah, quite honestly, the situation was even more hopeless than for us! They were 100 years old! We are extremely blessed to have the technology of IVF, to have one of the best medical teams in the nation performing our process (Dr. Shamma is ranked number 4 nationally on live births from IVF cycles), and to have such supportive, generous friends and family walking the journey with us. I cannot forget to mention the healing from Fibromyalgia that God provided as I weaned off of my medications before we first started trying to get pregnant. That was a mighty display of faithfulness and the power of God, and a sign that he would provide for us all that we needed.

So, here I sit, staring out at my garden and contemplating the upcoming process. Before I share that process with you, let me share my garden. 

Backyard patio garden... out of uncultivated ground, all of these seeds sprang

Experiments in vegetable growing

True- heaven is closer in the garden

  These beautiful plants have been like a tangible expression of God’s new compassions every morning. New life springing up from dead ground, ground that has been flooded and drowned so many times this summer. Yet, God keeps these plants alive and flourishing. I am often reminded, through looking at my flowers, herbs and vegetables, of the way that God cares for me. Even after a strong flood and the risk of drowning, his light comes out, the sun dries up the floodwaters, and life springs up again.

On Sunday night, I started my first medication. Next Friday, July 24, I will need to have surgery up in Detroit to check for fibroids and remove any that have returned. A few days after that, the clinic will administer a $900 shot to me to suppress my ovarian production in the next cycle. I will have two ultrasound appointments in August- perfectly timed so that Josh will be back to go with me! I am so grateful God has orchestrated the dates so he can be present for the entire process this time. Then on August 19, we will travel up to Detroit to stay overnight before the big day. On August 20, the doctor will transfer two more embryos into my uterus. (already praying fervently for the thawing and the selection of the right two embryos!) My nurses (my sister and my neighbor, both named Mary J ) will give me shots until the pregnancy test. And, hoping against hope, we could find out we are pregnant on August 31, 2015.

Here we go again!

Thank you for journeying with us through this adventure of God’s faithfulness through infertility. It has meant so much to me when many of you have approached me and talked to me about our journey. Thank you for your love, your support, and your prayers. Please continue praying for us, and as always, leave a comment- they encourage me so much!

It is well

Somehow part of my heartache healed when I heard my baby niece Maya’s first cry and saw her take her first breath. As we passed the one month mark of the miscarriage just a few days after Maya’s birth, my heart ached, but I also felt a release, like the worst of the pain was over. A new life had begun.  This week will be the two month anniversary of the conception of our children. I have sensed God moving me forward in the last couple of weeks. 

            So many things have happened spiritually in the last weeks. Sunday night at church, after such deep grieving and the peace of God’s presence at Deeper Night, my body and mind were at rest and weary in a content sort of way. Still, the question I asked that night to my dear friend Ann, as she hugged me, wept with me, and prayed with me for a healing and a miracle, lingers in my spirit.

            We were singing the song “It is well,” by Bethel Live. The tears overwhelmed me. I went to the front for prayer. As Ann and I cried for the little babies Josh and I lost, a question welled it within me. “Will it ever be completely well with me?” In my mind I know that God is faithful. I know that He has a plan. I know that it is well with me, because God is enough for me. Those beliefs I hold so dear bring me hope. I feel peace deep within my heart. Yet it still hurts. How it be completely “well with me” when it hurts so badly tonight? I am mourning the fact that I will never hold those babies’ hands or snuggle them in my arms. I will never feed them and kiss them good night. I will not meet them on this earth. I believe with all of my heart, though, that I will meet them in heaven one day.

            This brings back to my mind another very difficult time when I often asked, in not so many words, “is it well with me?” In 1994, my Aunt Carol was diagnosed with Leukemia. Aunt Carol was my mom’s older sister and best friend. We spent every holiday with Aunt Carol, Uncle Tom, and our cousins when we were growing up. After Aunt Carol was diagnosed, they lived with us for a little while. Aunt Carol was sick for two and a half years. I remember my mom telling me that one time, when she went to a local church’s women’s event, one of the other women said something like mom, “if you just have enough faith when you pray God will heal your sister.” Well, my mom had faith. Aunt Carol had faith. We all had faith. Yet, on April 11, 1997, my Aunt Carol died in the hospital after being in a coma for a couple of weeks.

            Even though I was only 14 years old when Aunt Carol died, I was devastated. It took many years of tears (and some counseling) to get to the point of coping and moving forward with life. For many years, I thought often of that woman’s comment to my mom. I have thought of it anew after losing the babies. We truly believed. Josh and I had faith. Our family, our church, our friends, and even our doctor all had faith. We prayed fervently. But God’s answer for these two babies lives was different than we prayed for. They most likely lived less than a week, although we will never know exactly.

            No, our faith does not determine God’s answer to our prayers. I do not dispute that God DOES miracles and he DOES answer prayers in accordance with our requests sometimes. He has done it in my life. He has directly answered my prayers. The biggest example, among many, is the immense blessing of God giving me my husband, Josh. I prayed many, many years for him to come along. There were a lot of bumps in the road and moments of discouragement. But God knew he was preparing Josh for me and, when the time was right, in February 2012, we met. There are so many more examples. God has been immeasurably faithful in my life. He has done miracles of healing, miracles of language, and miracles of changing lives through showing his love through me. Praise Jesus!  

           

            So here is the ultimate question: how is it truly “well with me” when the answer we fervently prayed for and believed God for is NO? Will there always be a part of me that hurts when I think of the babies we lost, or when I think of Aunt Carol’s tragic death? I do not know the answers to these questions, not really. Maybe “it is well” does not mean, “it is all okay and I am not sad anymore.” Maybe it means something like “I feel God’s presence and have peace in the midst of sadness, and I will wait expectantly for how God will use this loss for good according to his plan.” I have a friend who I pray with regularly. She and I have talked many times about how God can still be good in the midst of tragedy. She too has lost a baby, and she loves Jesus. In my daily life, I have met many people who have suffered loss of a child, a spouse, a friend, a family member, or a dream of some kind. I think all of us lose something or someone dear to us at some point. I think that, if we are honest with ourselves, we all struggle with this question as our heart breaks: “how can it be well with me?”

            Perhaps the question is not HOW but WHO. Of this I am confident: Jesus is the Comforter and the Healer. He is the Prince of Peace. He weeps with me when I weep. The loss of our babies grieves Jesus’ heart, too. Although I do not believe He causes tragedy and death, I do believe He is able to turn the brokenness into something beautiful. In my darkest moments, these are the core anchors that give me hope and keep me going. Jesus is my anchor.

            My prayer now is simple: Come, Lord Jesus, Come. I need you. I will rest. I will wait. There are so many unknowns, so many questions and uncertainties (when should we try again? how will we pay for it? what if it does not work?), but now is not the time for answers. Right now, I only need the Presence of the Spirit of Jesus.

Hope in the sunrise (Botswana, Good Friday 2009)

           I was unsure of whether the post this journal entry, but something inside me said that someone else, perhaps another woman who struggles with infertility or loss of a child, needs this.

         As always, thanks for journeying with me. Your love and encouragement have helped me immeasurably.