During the month of December of 2012, I spent a lot of time alone with my thoughts. I could pinpoint certain emotions I was feeling, but I was so quick to try and dismiss them without really thinking through why I felt the way I felt. I decided to do some journal-writing that month. First I wrote down the individual emotions that I was feeling, then I took some time to expand on each emotion separately. It has always been helpful to me to write down my feelings. I am not very good at verbal emotional expression, so the best way for me to really process my feelings, is to write. In this post, I'm going to be sharing some of my journal entries from that time, because it does the best job at explaining how I actually felt then, and not just my memory of how I felt.
The first "feeling" I wrote about in my journal was entitled "Mixed Emotions." I remember all my emotions were combating each other. I was so emotionally confused, so I just started to write. Looking back at this, I know I can see things much more clearly now than I did then. I remember not feeling much resolve after writing this particular entry.
I have so many mixed emotions regarding my infertility issues.
I want to know exactly what is wrong, but I don’t want to know at the same time.
I want to keep trying to conceive naturally, but I want to quit all together.
I want to get pregnant, but at the same time I don’t want to.
I hate when I am "late" now and then, but at the same time I kind of like it.
I feel like my feelings are having a giant tug of war match with themselves and no one is winning.
I want to know what is wrong because then we can move forward. If I find out that a simple operation can solve our problem, great, easily fixable! But what if I find out that I will never have children? How will I take that? What if I find out that I will have to take some sort of fertility drug to get pregnant? Will I be tempted to take a drug because it would be easier than the long and difficult road I’ve been travelling on for the past few years? If there is something wrong with me, will I blame myself?
I want to keep on trying, because part of me continues to think, “this really could work!” If we keep on trying each month, there is always a chance that we could end up pregnant. If we don’t try, there is no chance we could end up pregnant. I want to quit trying too, though. As long as we’re continually trying, my mind wanders, and I think so much about what it would be like if it worked this time. But if we stop trying, I won’t be heartbroken when I am "late." I’m not a quitter, I never have been, but sometimes I just want to quit.
When I think about why I want to get pregnant so bad, the answer is easy: I want to be a mom. I've wanted to be a mom ever since I was a little girl. I always thought I would have kids right away when I got married. Had you asked me 5 years ago where I thought I would be at this stage in my life (knowing I was going to be married at 21), I would have thought I would have a couple kids by now. More than wanting some sort of a career, or a nice house, or pets, or things, I have always wanted to be a mom.
When people ask if I want to have kids, the answer again is simple: yes, I do. But wanting to get pregnant has absolutely nothing to do with the desire to have a child grow inside of me (although it would be rewarding), or to have my own biological children, or to have them grow up to look like myself or like Mitch. The reason I would like to get pregnant is because it is easier. It would be so much easier if I could get pregnant and effortlessly plan a family.
But I am grateful for the difficulty of starting a family that I find myself in. I am not saying that I like my situation, but I am grateful for it. I am grateful because the Lord has taught me to trust in Him more. It is in our weaknesses that He is made strong. It is in the times we are waiting on the Lord that our strength is renewed, and for that I am thankful.
Really, I just want to be a mom. I can do that by having my own biological children, but I can also do that through adoption. I know some people are turned off to the idea of adoption because they are afraid that if they adopted a child, they could never love it like they would love "one of their own" flesh and blood children. But I really don’t feel that way. And I am not trying to convince myself I don’t feel that way, I truly don’t. I think I could love an adopted child just as much as I could love one of my own flesh and blood children. If we adopted a baby, that baby would be grafted in to the Black Family Tree, just like we have been grafted into the Family of God. God’s love for us is perfect and we are adopted sons and daughters. God designed adoption and I think it is beautiful. This time of infertility has warmed my heart so much to adoption that even if I were to get pregnant, adoption would still be an avenue I would pursue in life.
Also, I look at my step-dad Brian. He never had biological children of his own, but he always introduces me as his 2nd daughter. I really think he looks at us as if we are his own. And the truth is, we are his own. Even though we aren’t his flesh and blood, we are his children. He really is my dad. No, I don’t call him “dad,” but sometimes I refer to him as my dad, because that really is who he is. If he could love me as much as he does, even though I didn’t come into his life until I was 13-years old, how could I not love a child that I raised from infancy, just because he or she was not of my own flesh and blood? It just seems ridiculous.
Sometimes I am afraid to get pregnant. God has taught me so much during this time of infertility and I am afraid that if I were to get pregnant, that I would be so overjoyed that I would quickly, and easily forget what this feels like right now. I don’t want to forget what it feels like to sob and cry out to God, pleading with Him for a child. I don’t want to forget what it is like to think, “I cannot get pregnant on my own, I need God to do this.” I even don’t want to forget the pang of grief I feel when someone makes an insensitive joke about pregnancy or starting a family.
I think that is why I hate being "late" and I like it at the same time. In the 2 or 3 day, sometimes more, spans of time where I am late, my mind does a lot of wandering. When I start to think that I might be pregnant, even in those few days, I start to forget what it feels like to be helpless and barren. And then, when I do start, all the old feelings come rushing back. I guess, I like being late, because I have a chance to forget my grief, and pretend that I have a little life growing inside of me (and not just in my heart, but in my womb). But I hate being late for the same reason. I feel like being late gives me a false hope, and causes me to forget all that God has been teaching me. I don’t ever want to forget what this feels like, right now.
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