He Gives and Takes Away

Obviously, there was no need for my last post… all I really had to do was ask Suzanne. It's pretty apparent to me that we all need Suzanne to come to our consultations… talk about advocating for ourselves: she nailed it. Pretty impressive stuff. If you're thinking about IVF and missed the post, go check out all of the helpful responses I received!

Totally switching gears now… My heart is absolutely broken. I am so confused. So lost. So frustrated. So sad. So overwhelmed. So in awe. But let me back up. The last several weeks have been pretty awesome for my little corner of the blog world… babies everywhere! It was hard not to get caught up in the complete wonder of it all. Beautiful, glorious, loved, fought for babies came home with several mommas and it is amazing! It is absolutely awe inspiring to see these new mommas and daddies lay eyes on their child for the first time. Simply amazing.

But there's another side to this story, and it's a story that is all too familiar in the infertility and infant loss communities. My heart is absolutely broken for several friends right now. Words simply cannot express the depth of my sorrow. Many of these women have become close friends; I pray for them, I laugh with them, cry with them, we chat during the work days through email. My pain is only a fraction of their pain, and today I feel broken, defeated, frustrated, abandoned, and so on… I can't imagine what they feel.

I was pregnant for one brief nanosecond of time. I barely had time to wrap my head around the idea before the word miscarriage popped into our vocabulary. So in some ways, I know this pain. In other ways, their pain takes mine to a whole new level. Take Risa for instance. She just completed her first IVF. From the beginning, IVF wasn't what she had hoped for. Words like "poor responder" were tossed around, which I can only imagine was surprising and disheartening to say the least. But she completed the IVF cycle with hope… one embryo survived and was transferred back. No one ever expects for IVF to yield only one embryo, but it did, and she and her husband were so hopeful. And it worked… positive pregnancy tests showed that her little embryo had implanted. Sadly, her sweet Adam left her and her husband behind. They are now mourning what could have been,  picking up the pieces of their broken hearts, and processing where they want to go from here. My heart hurts so much for them. To lose a child, even when you've only known about it for a few days in an intense pain... but for most people, IVF is all about the back up plan, the embryos on ice. I'm sure that neither of them ever expected to go through IVF and have nothing left over... it's another loss in and of itself, the loss of a second chance, the loss of potential. It's all just so hard.

Then there is CP. This sweet lady seemed like she was on her way to her miracle take home baby. She did IVF in February only to discover that it worked on their first attempt! She and her husband were over the moon at the prospect of bringing home a baby. They found out early due to testing that they were having a son, but with that news also came some worrying findings. With time they learned that their precious son had a life threatening condition called CDH, but they never lost hope. They sought out awesome doctors, and prayed over their son. Even when her water broke unexpectedly at 24 weeks, she never gave up hoping that her son would come home with her. I learned on Sunday that Jackson Dean died last Wednesday, two hours after his birth. Tears streamed down my face as I read her honest, uplifting post of thanks for her precious son. To lose a child at any stage is heart breaking... I can vouch for that, I lost mine about as early as possible, but to lose a child you gave birth to, a child you held, a child you could do nothing to save... the pain is simply unfathomable.

My  heart was so broken as I read her post on Sunday, I literally wanted to crawl under the covers. But I didn't. I went to my church's community worship event and cried and prayed and told God that I didn't understand His ways. I agreed that His ways are not mine because I would never let that happen. Big picture be darned, she deserved her baby (and this is why I'm not God, obviously). I got home to find another post from one of my favorite women I've met in this terrible journey. Suzanne's story is nothing like mine in terms of infertility diagnosis, but there has just been something about her since I found her blog that has connected me to her story and called to my heart. Tears are literally falling as I type... this is just so hard. I got home last night to find that Suzanne's miracle story had also ended. Suzanne's story is frustrating to say the least... she was learning to let the dream of a biological child end. She was in the midst of happily embracing donor eggs. She was excited about her future again. And then out of nowhere, on the heels of a failed IVF cycle, she became pregnant, with her OWN egg, with no treatment... it was shocking, it was amazing, it was a miracle. Surely a miracle like this, a light where there is so much darkness, life where there has been only death will make it, I told myself. I prayed with her, waited anxiously with her for each new beta, each step led me closer to believing I was witnessing a legitimate, God breathed life, kind of miracle. To hear that it's over is crushing. My heart hurts so badly for her. I know that she will go on to find her donor, to cycle at CCRM, and I'm praying with everything I've got that she brings her baby home... yes, there can still be a happy ending to this story, but right now, in the midst of the brokenness, in the very center of all of this heartache, I just want to know why.

Today I feel so very, very crushed, so low, so confused, and ultimately so sad. My friends don't deserve this. And the most frustrating thing is that I have no answers for them... they don't need trite responses, they need love, and hope, and understanding. Ladies, my heart breaks for all of you... for all of you who have, who are, or who will experience the loss of a child. Nothing prepares you for that kind of pain. I'm so sorry that this is a part of your story.

Father God, I love you, but if I'm being really honest, I'm not sure I like you today. You give and take away, but I don't understand why. Your ways are not my ways, and I fully trust that there is a plan, that that there is a reason, but the not knowing, the not understanding... that is so hard. Father, even though there's pain in the offering, blessed be Your name.