“Gosh I wish I kept a journal!” If I had a dollar for every time I thought that while I was writing Full Heart Empty Womb, I would at least have made more that I have from my book ;). Throughout my journey with infertility and then high-risk pregnancy, several people encouraged me to keep a journal. A couple even gave me a journal to help me get started.
Unfortunately, I never did write consistently about it. I didn’t want to dwell on my situation anymore than I already did… and that was A LOT. It really is divine the clarity I had about the emotions and events of my near ten-year battle with Infertility. Before I wrote, I always sat down in prayer and asked for God’s guidance. I also looked through old pictures to help jog my memory. My editor joked with me about how she could tell when I was sucked back in time because I started to write in present tense instead of past!
So imagine my surprise when I came across a couple of journal entries on my old laptop. I was moving documents from my big old white brick MacBook to my new sleek one. I found two documents from 2013 that were just titled with dates. One was October 21 (the date of my pregnancy test for my last IVF) and the other was October 27 (a week after the test). I don’t even remember writing these.
When I read the raw emotions I was feeling, I immediately stepped back in time and down right SOBBED. I decided to share these because I think it is a good insight into the complex emotions that a woman goes through during IVF… and the aftermath.
I have been waiting for 12 long days since my embryo transfer. The wait has seemed like an eternity. Time is literally crawling for me.
The good thing about going to bed at 8:30 last night is that October 21st came sooner. The bad part is that the day started at 4 a.m. for me. Two hours to do nothing but lay in bed. I held my hands on my stomach and talked to my sweet babies (aka my “totsicles”) in my head. I hummed a little tune to them. Still trying to convince them to stay with me. I would be a great mommy. I would love them like no other. I would hug and kiss them all day long. I would read to them. I would teach them all about God and His awesome love. I prayed. I begged for my babies until I cried. When my silent tears turned into sobs, Eric woke up and held me.
At 6 a.m., I dried my eyes, quickly got myself ready, and rushed to get breakfast on the table for the kids before I left. Eric came in to check on me right after I put my mascara on. I gave him the look and told him that we could NOT have a heartfelt talk right after I just put my make-up on!
My good friend, Devon, had given me the verse Ecclesiastes 11:5 to me while we prayed together the day before my embryo transfer. I had written it on a napkin and had held it close to me since that day. I carefully folded it and put it in my jeans pocket to take to my last pregnancy test.
I was on autopilot as I drove to Nashville Fertility Center. My chest got tighter and tighter with every yard I drove. By the time I pulled into the parking lot, I was sobbing. At first it was desperate pleas for my babies. Then when I parked, it was for the Lord to please give me strength to quiet the tears so I could just get out of the car. When I finally did, I saw a magnet of one of UT’s rivals that we had beaten 2 days before. I laughed and thought God had a sense of humor and was obviously a Vols fan. Silly as it sounds, that gave me the courage to keep moving. It lightened my mood as I snapped a picture and sent it to Eric. It helped me not feel so alone. I imagine he felt the same too. At that moment, he was sitting in drop off line with the kids worrying about me.
And then a week later . . .
This time last week I was so full of cautious hope. I really believed down to my bones that I was pregnant. I formulated the email I would send to my prayer partners and then chastened myself for being too confident. Then I dreamed about being able to joyfully announce to the world that I am pregnant on Christmas card. It would have pictures of Ethan, Ella and Matthew on it of course. And I was sure I would find something just precious on Pinterest to help me announce our new addition (or additions!!) to the family.
When we got the kids to bed, Eric and I talked for a little bit then tried to decide on a TV show to watch. Finally, I told him that I just wanted to go to bed and wake up tomorrow. At 8:30, I went to bed dreaming about how good I would feel at noon tomorrow when I finally got the voicemail that I was pregnant.
Today…almost a week later… I skipped church. Eric hardly ever travels, but he is this week. I couldn’t stand to go to church and face the same sweet prayer partners I have walked this painful journey with. I had 2 choices: continue to paint on the happy face and assure everyone that I am ok or cry and let it all out. I was too tired to do either of those things without Eric’s hand on my shoulder. I know that my friends want me to feel comfortable to share all my feelings with them, but it is hard. Hard because no amount of talking can help them understand the depths of my grief because we are in such a unique situation. And hard because of my pride. I don’t want to look as broken down as I am. It is confusing. I want people to see me as strong and reasonable like Phillipians 4: 4&5. However, I am afraid that by being that way, it diminishes what we went through in their eyes. That shouldn’t matter to me, but it does.
I agreed a month ago to go to a child dedication of my dear friend, Devon, for their child they adopted from China. They are a sweet, Christian family that we have grown so close to. I was so honored when they asked us to be a part of it. It was a service that had several dedications and most of them were babies. I don’t know why, but I was caught off guard by the wave of grief I felt sitting in the service. I looked at those sweet babies and realized that I would never have one of them again. The pastor spoke at the beginning and talked about how the parents’ responsibility was to teach about God’s love, teach them the Word, talk all the time about God. I do that!! I have proven I am a good, Christian mother. Why can’t I have another? No. Not just another baby. The babies I had. The ones I had inside me but didn’t stay.
It became evident to me tonight that I HAVE to write this book. I have to. I went through all of this pain the last couple of years. There has to be a purpose. I will not accept that. If it isn’t because I get a chance to love my babies and raise them to love the Lord, then I have to make good of this pain. The only way I can do that is to try to help someone not feel alone. To know that when they walk this walk of infertility they have to do it hand in hand with God.
It is quite emotional to read these gut wrenching words that I wrote 18 months ago and vividly remember that pain. I am still grieving for the babies that I thought were in God’s plans for our family. In fact, Ella has been asking me lately for a baby sister. Oh how it pains me. Oh sweet girl. Mommy tried so so hard to give you a baby sister!
But it is also so encouraging to me. October 2013 I was at the lowest point of my life. I have never felt so alone or misunderstood. Yes, today I still get sad, but I am healed. You can be at your lowest point today, but things will get better. “Cast all your worries on Him because He cares for you” 1 Peter 5:7.
If you want to learn more about my journey, how I coped, and what I learned through Infertility, please check out my book: “Full Heart Empty Womb: How I Survived Infertility … Twice.” To get your copy today, go to: www.amazon.com/dp/1503370879